Jake is a thirteen year-old orange cat and he is dying. He has a terminal illness and my husband and I decided that putting a cat of his age through chemotherapy would be for us, not him. In fact, with each decision we always say that extreme measures would be for us not him.
Still, the other night, I found myself trying to force my will upon this guy. He was balking at eating the treat that concealed his medicine. We both ended up upset and angry. He crawled under the bed and I cried into my husband’s shoulder. After a couple of hours, having calmed myself and realizing that if Jake refused the medication, there was nothing I could do about it, I tried again. Jake just scarfed it right down.
Still, the other night, I found myself trying to force my will upon this guy. He was balking at eating the treat that concealed his medicine. We both ended up upset and angry. He crawled under the bed and I cried into my husband’s shoulder. After a couple of hours, having calmed myself and realizing that if Jake refused the medication, there was nothing I could do about it, I tried again. Jake just scarfed it right down.