The acre is mowed and tidied up – again. Lush, soft grass is hard to mow this time of year and have it look even. I could not believe what I heard at the supper table . . . “I am getting tired of mowing.” This from the ole cowboy that is ready, willing and able from early spring on.
On another note: we crushed the pill from the vet that was to calm Butter Ball enough to get him in the carrier for his yearly checkup, and hid it in a treat that he has liked to eat. Butter Ball was the only cat in the porch when Dennis put the loaded treat in Butter Ball’s food bowl with several pieces of his usual food. This was to be a sure winner as Dennis had withheld all food from the cats overnight, thinking that by morning, Butter Ball would be ready to chow down. We then acted nonchalant and left Butter Ball to indulge. Dennis went back into the porch a bit later and Butter Ball had eaten around the loaded treat. Ugh! Scratch that for the day.
Late this afternoon, I slightly heated several tablespoons of milk. Butter Ball was lounging on the patio. I set the milk dish down and walked away. From around the corner of the porch, I watched as Butter Ball slowly got up and approached the milk dish as if there would be a jack in the box ready to jump out and attack him. He did lick the milk dish dry. Hooray! Saturday and Sunday, we will repeat the milk ritual. On Monday there will be another tablespoon or two of warmed milk with the calming meds from the vet – in the milk set out for Butter Ball.
Ya know, with my kids, I could threaten them if they wouldn’t swallow the pill that would make them feel better. With cats . . . I’ve got nothing.