Grant Me Patience

Do you ever have days where you just feel like the next person to complain is going to drive you off the deep end?  I don't have human children, but I'm guessing it's the same whether your children have fur or not. 

Indiana and I prepare for battle against each other three times a day: breakfast, lunch, and dinner.  Some days she opts for peace, and that's happy.  Other days, we only battle over part of the meal.  And some days, oh my gosh, are a full-blown nightmare. 

Luckily, today, so far, is just a partial battle day.  She ate her breakfast well, which I was grateful for.  Then she took her pills, which went okay, but not awesome.  We already have to wrap her pills in liver sausage, and no more than two pills are allowed at a time.  And if you put too much liver sausage on it, she'll spit it out.  Or if you don't pack the pills right.  Or if she hears a squirrel fart out in the yard.  Whatever.  I haven't figured out all of the rules yet.  But Jim did discover that if she spits out the pills, then you can pick them back up, dip them in cat food, and she'll take them.  Which is true.  But it's totally gross.  Not only do I now have a handful of wet, slobbery liver sausage, but I also have to dip it into canned cat food.  And touch it again.  Yum.  But at least she'll eat it with no complaints.  So, there's that.

But during these times, I get so frustrated!  And then I feel guilty.  For eleven and a half years of her life, she never complained.  Not during chemo.  Not at vet appointments.  Not even when she had a biopsy without sedation.  So, if she wants to be picky now (and I'm sure she has a good reason, I just don't exactly know what it is), then I should thank my lucky stars that she's still alive to be picky and shut the heck up. 

But still, I'm human, and it's hard not to get frustrated.  Especially when one of your cats is inside wanting to go outside while another is outside wanting to come inside and instead of just GOING THROUGH THE FREAKIN' PET DOOR, they stand on either side of the pet door and smack at each other and make annoying (but kind of adorable and funny) spitting sounds at each other.  Or when you're trying to type up a blog post on your laptop but your cat, who was missing for over a year but miraculously came back to you via a friend and therefore has earned anything he wants for the rest of his life, ever, wants to lay in the middle of your lap, which is where your laptop is supposed to go, so instead your laptop has to go to your side, on a pillow, which makes your left wrist feel really awkward and uncomfortable, and it starts to ache after about two sentences, and you make a gazillion typos because you're at the wrong angle.  And it's 9am. 

It's going to be a long day.  But at least I have my family with me, safe and sound.  Alive for another day.  Except maybe for the cats at the door.  They're treading on thin ice.