Showdown at the O’Kitty Corral

I showed up at Eviljob today to dope Mehitabel and have the likkle slattern spayed by nightfall. I was well-prepared: I had the day off, I purchased a kitty carrier, went to a trendy pharmacist who offers pet prescriptions and got a splash of the fish flavouring they put in pet medication, had my tuna, and had crushed the pills into the finest powder imaginable. I took a small bit of the tuna, dumped my powder in there, mixed in the triple-fish flavouring, and presented it to Mehitabel, who ate it voraciously. Then I fed her plops of the left-over tuna (plops because I had to toss them towards her) whilst I waited for the kitty roofies to kick in. Dr Vet (the superhero one, not my regular Dr Vet) said they take approximately fifteen minutes to kick in, so I fed Mehitabel s-l-o-w-l-y. And since I had a long time to look at her, I couldn’t help but notice that she is looking pregnant again. But that is ok, I reasoned, because I am just a few short minutes away from having her ass aborted and spayed. It’s all good. Sigh.

Mehitabel started looking woozy almost half an hour later; I tried to approach her, and she walked away, so I backed off and waited to give it a little bit more time. As soon as Mehitabel had cleared a reasonable distance from me, she sat back down again and started blinking. So I waited.

I am the most patient person in the universe if it is for a good cause; you name the task, and I can perform it until further notice if need be, no food, no rest, no wishing-I-was-elsewhere. So I held off and watched her. And watched her. And watched her. A little bit later, she was still sitting, but now with her body slightly rocking back and forth, and she looked like she was about to fall over. I gave her a little bit longer to see if she would go ahead and fall over, but after about ten minutes she showed no signs of it, so I started over towards her again.

The moment I moved, her eyes snapped open but she still sat, so I slowly walked closer. When I got to about three to five feet away from her she walked away from me another foot or so, and sat. I took another step, and she walked another couple of steps, and sat. I took *another* step, and she walked another couple of steps, and sat.

It was pretty obvious that Mehitabel was swacked out of her mind, but was still intending to avoid me.

I tried rushing her, but she would get up and walk (by that time almost in a crouch) an equivalent distance away from me, and then sit--weaving, blinking, and yawning the whole time.

I figured that perhaps I had not been patient enough, so I backed off and watched her; she sat for about ten minutes, looking like she was getting sleepier, and then she finally staggered into a bush. I waited and looked, hoping she would *now* pass the fuck out like she is supposed to.

When I saw her head go down I slowly snuck over, but when I came close Mehitabel woke back up (if she had ever been asleep), looked at me, and meowed. I tried talking to her, but as soon as I put my hand on the bush she got up, exited the other side of the bush, and sat. And blinked. A lot.

So I slowly walked over there, and she walked a few steps away and sat. I tried rushing her again, but as soon as I moved she got up and stared crouch-running a few feet. I could *tell* she was woozy and sleepy, but the cat kept going by sheer force of will!

I tried getting another can of tuna and calling her over, but she was sitting in a tuxedo-haze and wouldn’t come. So I went over to her with it, hoping I could perhaps trick her into exercising bad judgement and coming close to me, or something. I tossed tuna (intending to get closer and closer with my throws until I could grab her), but she wasn’t interested. I walked over to her and she walked away (drunkenly) and sat. I tried again and again, each time figuring she has to give in any minute; I tried waiting out of her sight, hoping she would fall asleep, but no. Mehitabel of the Iron Will refused to go to sleep or stay still enough for me to get close—regardless of what I did, regardless of how bleary-eyed and staggering she got. All, seemingly, through her simple kitty will to survive.

And this went on for five hours. Mehitabel and I slowly walked all around the North lot of Eviljob, until I had to face the fact that she was back to walking normally, implying that the drugs were wearing off. I am sure it looked ridiculous; if only there had been some appropriate cat-chasing music (probably some kind of hoedown-style fiddle-playing), the scene would have been complete. I step; Mehitabel crouch-walks a few steps, and sits. I wait. I step; Mehitabel crouch-walks a few steps, and sits. Over and over. I could have sworn I heard her mumbling, “I am loyal to the parking lot…I am loyal to the parking lot…”

I am considering changing Mehitabel’s name to G. Gordon Kitty.

So tomorrow I guess it is back to the vet to get a double-order of kitty roofies. I still have one dose left, so I will either double it or get something to go along with it to knock her little furry butt out for certain.

Your ass is mine, Mehitabel; my will is stronger than yours, even if my brain isn’t as big. Give it up. I’m sending out my ‘Surrender, Mehitabel’ smoke, you wicked cat.