What I hate

What I hate is the Nextel chirp. Apparently someone at the house across the street (they're completely gutting the insides and re-doing it) has to use his two-way ultra space communicator pod to talk to the Mothership every seven seconds or so. Since I'm across the street and my windows are open, I hear the "go ahead" chirp. I don't hear any conversation, though.

Chirp.
Chirp.
Chirp.
Chirp.
Chirp.
Chirp.

Why can't people stick to traditional radio protocol? You learned how to pres butan to talk, what's a little extra slang in your life, anyway? Wouldn't it be infinitely cooler to treat the two-way feature like a military walkie-talkie -- or at least like a kid's walkie-talkie, giving the phone the "boop" morse code button and the little guide to morse code on the bottom panel? And what about the people who do still use phrases like "over" and "go ahead?" Can they disable what would then be a completely superfluous and redundant chirp?

What a way to spend a day off. The idea of going over to Harvard Square for a burger anna book is looking more and more appealing.

Chirp.
Chirp.

Cannonballing the cat

Abbie had himself an infection while he was sick, so the vet prescribed antibiotics. I currently have 30mL of Amoxicillin for the ol' fellow, which he is to receive in 3mL doses twice a day for 10 days.

As you may have well guessed, that's a lot of medicine for a cat. The problem is compounded further by the fact that the cat absolutely hates to take his medicine. He simply won't take pills at all. Thankfully in a brief flash of foresight I asked the vet for a liquid prescription -- there's no way in hell I'm gonna hold an 18-pound cat down, pry his jaws open, and shove a pill down his throat twice a day for 10 days on my own. After last year's medicinal adventure when we tried liquid meds for the first time, I've hit upon the proper way to give Abbie medicine in liquid form.

You just have to get it all over him.

Ok, that's not exactly the primary strategy, but it seems to work well as a backup. I have to hold the cat down and gently place the tip of the dropper in his mouth near the back teeth, gentle pressure applied on the bulb ready to deploy, and when he opens his mouth to go "ack! ack!" that's when the medicine goes in. It's surprisingly effective, even when he lashes his head back and forth and tries to push the dropper away with a paw. The liquid goes everywhere, though, and I figure that if I get any on his fur, that's all right, because he's only going to lick it off anyway.

I've also noticed that not only is amoxicillin a bright pinkish purple, it's also hard to get out of clothing.

The dropper I have only takes 1mL at a time, so 3 a day twice a day can be a particularly exhausting ordeal (hint: prepare the first dropperful before you secure cat.) To help morale today I decided to play Caddyshack with Abbie, cause it's his favorite movie. I took the part of Carl Spackler, barely-coherent assistant groundskeeper, and Abbie played the role of Ty Webb, best player on the course who runs into Spackler late at night while practicing for the Big Game.

"Here, here, you gotta cannonball it," I told Abbie, dropping medicine down his throat. "Cannonball! Cannonball comin!" Somehow he refused to appreciate the reference and squirmed about as defiantly as usual.

In retrospect I never thought I'd be sitting in a chair holding a cat down trying to squirt medicine down his throat while hollering "Cannonball!" but there you go. That's life in the big city.