Why I agreed to cat-sit for my friend is still a mystery. She asked me to look after her two cats while she was away. "How hard could it be?" I thought. She mentioned one cat, Lucas, needed medication for dry skin—two pills a day and Neosporin on a sore. "No problem," I said.
I arrived at her house to find detailed instructions. The cats drank bottled water from the fridge (while I get tap water), and I was directed to "poopy bags" in a specific holder. My friendship needed reevaluation.
The real challenge began with Lucas's pill. I tried hiding it in veggie cheese, turkey, and tuna. Each time, Lucas expertly ate around the pill, leaving it untouched. I then attempted various gourmet cat treats—salmon, beef, chicken—but Lucas, now full, wanted none of them.
While waiting for him to get hungry, I tried applying the Neosporin. After a 45-minute struggle and multiple scratches, I succeeded, only to see Lucas lick it all off. In a moment of inspiration, I even tried coating the pill with Neosporin. It failed.
Three hours had passed for one failed medication attempt, with three more days of this ahead. I needed a new plan.
Thus, "Plan C" was born. I calculated the total pills needed (eight), disposed of them, used the Neosporin on my own wounds, and only visited on the last day to refresh supplies. My friend returned, grateful and unaware. Do I feel guilty? Perhaps someday, after my wounds heal. But between the time, blood loss, and my tap water grievance, I saw no other choice.