I am the first to admit that it has been a pretty full on last 12 months for me. So much has happened that has challenged me mentally and emotionally, but I am pretty happy with the way I have handled it all and I remain upbeat and enthusiastic about the future.
The same can not be said for Penzance, my ten year old cat. Penne has had a rough time. First he lost his best friend Twinkle. Then his horrible mother had bathroom renovations which meant his home was invaded by lots of strangers. Then his horrible mother bought a kitten home (who tried to attack him). Then his horrible mother decided that she would put him on a plane and move him to a strange country. Then she made him live in a room for 2 months with the kitten and would not let him outside.
Poor Penne - while he is usually a friendly and happy cat, he has become anxious and sprays everywhere. And who can blame him?
On the weekend he went outside for the first time, and unfortunately he ran into a neighbourhood cat who was not as welcoming as the Kiwi reputation would have us believe all New Zealanders are. The result was a large cut on Penne's leg. Off to the vet we go, and stitches are required. At the same time I mentioned to the vet about how miserable he has been and she has suggested kitty Prozac. While I am sure that is not the technical name for it, it essentially does the same thing as human Prozac and will help him feel less anxious.
Now I appreciate that there are a couple of funny things about this. Firstly, in order to give him the drugs, I have to corner him and shove a pill down his mouth - an act that is surely going create the very anxiety that we are trying to avoid. Second, I realise I must now embrace that I have turned into a "crazy cat woman" - a label that I have tried valiantly to avoid. After all, if Penne can accept his need for medication, surely I can accept that I am no longer "one cat short of being a crazy cat lady" and am now well and truly in that camp.
I will reassure you with the fact that I am not sending Penne to kitty counselling............yet.
The same can not be said for Penzance, my ten year old cat. Penne has had a rough time. First he lost his best friend Twinkle. Then his horrible mother had bathroom renovations which meant his home was invaded by lots of strangers. Then his horrible mother bought a kitten home (who tried to attack him). Then his horrible mother decided that she would put him on a plane and move him to a strange country. Then she made him live in a room for 2 months with the kitten and would not let him outside.
Poor Penne - while he is usually a friendly and happy cat, he has become anxious and sprays everywhere. And who can blame him?
On the weekend he went outside for the first time, and unfortunately he ran into a neighbourhood cat who was not as welcoming as the Kiwi reputation would have us believe all New Zealanders are. The result was a large cut on Penne's leg. Off to the vet we go, and stitches are required. At the same time I mentioned to the vet about how miserable he has been and she has suggested kitty Prozac. While I am sure that is not the technical name for it, it essentially does the same thing as human Prozac and will help him feel less anxious.
Now I appreciate that there are a couple of funny things about this. Firstly, in order to give him the drugs, I have to corner him and shove a pill down his mouth - an act that is surely going create the very anxiety that we are trying to avoid. Second, I realise I must now embrace that I have turned into a "crazy cat woman" - a label that I have tried valiantly to avoid. After all, if Penne can accept his need for medication, surely I can accept that I am no longer "one cat short of being a crazy cat lady" and am now well and truly in that camp.
I will reassure you with the fact that I am not sending Penne to kitty counselling............yet.