...and blood was shed. J's blood to be precise. Lars lacerated J's left index finger in the process of me trying to actuate the inhaler the first time tonight. Sigh...

The AeroKat chamber contraption is really quite something. It came with two masks--one that was about two inches in diameter or Lars size and one that was about 1 1/2 inches or kitten sized--obviously we went with the larger. Got everything prepped, Lars none the wiser, and set to trying to get him properly medicated.

We figured he'd freak so J tried to do it on his own, scruffing Lars and holding his head while I held the inhaler/mask to Lars' face and actuated the inhaler. HA! The lacerating happened within the first minute of that fiasco. Onto the floor we went, with Lars' body pinned to the floor, J struggling alternatively hold back paws, scruff, and hold his face for me. The goal was for me to actuate the inhaler, get Lars to take seven breaths with the mask to his face, then be done with it. He was so squirmy and out of control I think we might have managed two-three breaths before it became futile to keep trying.

But it wasn't over yet! No, it was time for the remainder of his evening meds--the Lactulose and the Prednisolone. That didn't go well, either, with Lars wearing more than a bit of both meds. J was understandably irate that he'd gotten quite nastily lacerated and I was freaked out that my cat was so freaked out AND that my boyfriend was so badly lacerated. Sigh.

We've got a grooming bag we can restrain Lars in if needs be for future use--I bought that "just in case" before I knew he was even an asthmatic cat, because he's so notoriously difficult to medicate and trim his claws, too. Hate to traumatize him with that, but who knows? He might actually get some comfort from being bound down.

Lars is simply NOT good at being a chronically ill kitty. Though he's not done it in the evenings just yet, he's taken to hiding in random places around the house every morning after he eats his breakfast in efforts to avoid getting his AM medications. :/ When he first started doing this, simply shaking the Mystical Bag of Treats would get him out of his hidey holes--reward him with a bunch of treats, medicate him, then reward with a bunch more treats. But now he's gotten wise to that and won't come out for that. :/ We search the house (and it's not a terribly big three bedroom ranch) seemingly endlessly for that fucker every morning, which is a drag, especially on mornings when J has to be at work early. We can't medicate before food because the prednisolone is rough on the tummy and the lactulose isn't much easier on him without a food buffer, either, so the reward with breakfast trick is straight out. Sigh...

He's still my sweet soulmate cat, though, all the troubles be damned. My heart breaks for him; I know how much of a drag it is being a chronically sick being, and I can cognitively understand my situation, whereas he obviously cannot. Poor floofy fella... :/


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