Tussle update.

Manny officially hates my guts right now. I had the temerity to put more antibiotics in his eye when he was sleeping next to me, all trusting like.

Cue the crazy chase music, because Manny decided to pull a Bad Wolf.

(Thank you, Pinterest.)

So I had to call THE cat queen of Pigtown, and ask for a crate favor. So this afternoon looked like:

You. Did this. To me.

Tippi, on the other hand, is well pleased.
Flash to four hours later. Manny has howled, batted things, and basically tried to squeeze through bars.

So I’m trying a work release program. If he doesn’t make me work? He’s released (into the wilds of the second bedroom.)

Monday he gets a follow-up. I’m dreading it, because he hates it so. But fingers crossed for healing! Because I can’t put him through much more. And there’s still 8 12-hour treatments to go. Poor binnie.

Off to get him his favorite Thing On A String. I’m a pushover.


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