A bad habit of imbibing household pests and other unsavoury snacks was what probably caused a minor inflammation in the lower tracts of the Meep last week. Rendered feeble and incapable of biting the hands that feed him, the Meep spent half the week in convalescence, straddling sleep and stupor in the midst of laboured breaths and listless attempts to eat and shit. He managed to eject a pill from his maws with rocket-like trajectories and ghastly coughs, so each morning dose was instead crushed into powder and sprinkled on fish mash, which he nommed none the wiser. Recovery was swifter than expected, but a brief window of scruffiness had resulted in damage to his brows and a kink in one that adds little to what dignity resides in a muzzle of impulse and indignant precocity.
Aw, poor moggy! It doesn't matter how crook they are, they can always spit out pills. It's a talent.
Posted by: Snail | 17 June 2011 at 03:19 PM