Also titled : Pickle and the Pill
My Husband’s Cat, Pickle, is just that. His cat. Though I’ve been around much longer than she has, and I’ve been as much of a constant in her life as my husband, she loves him and tolerates me. It would suffice to say that I don’t like her all that much either, or I least I thought.
She follows my husband from room to room, sleeps in bed with him, cries and scratches the door if she can’t get to him, is constantly in his lap, rolls over for him to get her belly. While she insists on leaving the room I am in, won’t get in bed with me unless provoked, and if I even say the word “belly” she attacks my hand in a frenzy. She is definitely not my cat.
Pickle loves to chew plastic if she finds it on the floor. We try to keep it away from her, but she’s a crafty little bitch sometimes. Last night, she found a particularly interesting item, a muscle relaxer my husband had dropped. Of course, the plastic capsule was irresistible to her, she must eat it…EAT IT NOW. So she chewed on it, but didn’t swallow the capsule, as he found the remains on the floor as she commenced vomiting around the house.
Then he started to freak out, his poor little baby was sick. He investigated, found the chewed pill remains, and was concerned. He woke me up (this was around two in the morning), and though I claim not to like her, I sure jumped up out of bed to ensure she was alive and well. With a quickness at that, as if it were my child.
She got sick a few times and was pretty lethargic for a while. We called an emergency veterinary clinic, and they said just to keep her awake for a while, give her plenty of water, and she’d be okay.
She seems fine now, but I doubt this has taught her not to eat mystery items off of the floor. Cats never learn.