Vet visit a mixed blessing

On the plus side, my food has gotten better. The vet gave my mom some big cans of meaty dog food. “One half can three times a day!” they said.

“That’s a lot of food,” my mom said, but she’s feeling desperate. She hates those late-night trips to let me Do My Business. So I lucked out.

On the other hand, my mom has been shoving these sour-tasting pills down my throat twice a day. She tries to disguise them in something called a “pill pocket.” I may not be literate but I know the difference between a pill pocket and a treat. The vet fooled me into accepting one pill pocket so my mom bought a whole box. I spit out the first one. Now she’s back to prying my jaw open and tossing a pill down, because I am too well-mannered to snap or resist. Biting the hand that feeds you is not my style.

“Worse than giving pills to a cat,” the mom says.

Do I feel better? Too soon to tell. But I’m getting feistier about resisting those pills.

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