Don’t let the photo of our kitty, Miss Sophie, fool you. She is one tricky cat and she likes to amuse herself at our expense. Miss Sophie suffers from seizures (not the funny part of this story) and so earlier this year, the vet put her on phenobarbital, which is a sort of kitty-downer. We were a bit afraid she’d end up all doped up and unresponsive, but actually she’s much the same except not so skittish and she sleeps more deeply. She’s still very active (there’s a chipmunk racing up and down the hallway while I write this, thanks to her).

You’re probably all familiar with that essay, How to Give a Cat a Pill. Well, we thought we were above anything like that happening to us. We’re good parents and she’s a good cat, right? After a couple of days of docile acceptance of her fate, she began to get really good at spitting the pill across the room. That’s when we changed to plan B: dissolve the pill in water and shoot it into her mouth via a syringe (or shoot it all over her while we try to pry her mouth open). We’ve been doing this for about three months now. Miss Sophie has mixed feelings about this. On one hand, she’s a total druggie and she needs her fix. On the other, she knows it’s against the Laws of Cat to just take medicine willingly. She’s solved this dilemma by making us chase her.

The other day I tried to sneak up on her having her morning nap in the sunshine but she heard me coming and jumped just out of reach. Sometimes I’m patient and just sit there and pet Mr. Fatboy until she can’t stand being ignored and comes within reach, but that day I was in a hurry, so I took the bait. I ran after her. My husband was standing on the porch, doubled up with laughter as she and I raced across the yard. Back and forth, she’d slow down, wait, and just as I’d lunge for her, tear off again! When she got tired of making me run after her, she headed for the dirt pile. She then lay down in it and rolled and rolled until she was almost completely brown. And then she gave herself up. I was totally covered with dirt, but she got her meds.

I have to admit, I didn’t really get how funny I must’ve looked until I watched my husband do it today. She was jumping, hopping, flying, racing, but always just out of his reach. He was running after her across the lawn, arms pumping like he was trying to win the race, and you could just see her laughing on the inside! When he got winded, with tears streaming down my face, I took over the chase. She headed for the dirt pile again, but this time I got her before she could roll. Okay, who am I kidding? She “let” me get her before she could roll. I held her over my head like a trophy, shouting, “I got her! I got her!”

My victory will be short lived though. Did I mention she gets her meds twice a day?