Back in 1995, I and my three kitties came back to the States from Europe... soon afterwards, one of the three, my first red tabby girl, became gravely ill.
Long story short, she was hospitalized for two months, and I visited her daily and helped with her feedings, and in mid October I brought her home [where she lived very happily for another five years].
In December she developed kitty bronchitis. It was relatively mild, but it needed treatment, especially because it was affecting her appetite and a lack of appetite was what had started the whole awful mess several months earlier.
So I was giving her antibiotics, and an antihistamine to stimulate her appetite, and a vitamin formula. The antibiotic was an awful fruit flavored pediatric formula, and the antihistamine was a pill, and the vitamin was a gooey paste I had to smear on the side of her mouth. Cats hate tutti frutti... almost as much as pills and gooey pastes. And we had to go through this ritual three times a day.
Christmas Day arrived. She'd been quite good, all things considered, but by Christmas she had simply had enough. She saw me getting the torture implements out, and disappeared.
After a ten minute search, I noticed a third pillow in my bed, turned back the comforter, and there she was. Grabbed her, took her into the kitchen, and administered the tutti frutti. Put her down to get the antihistamine, and she disappeared.
After a five minute search, I noticed that third pillow was there again. Turned back the comforter... nope, she was under the top blanket? Nope, she was under the second blanket? Nope, she was under the comforter, and the top blanket, and the second blanket, and the sheet. Grabbed her, took her into the kitchen, and administered the antihistamine. Set her down to get the vitamin goo, and she disappeared.
After a thirty second search, I noticed that third pillow was there again. Turned back the comforter... nope. The first blanket... nope. The second blanket... nope. The sheet... ... ... nope? Nope? NOPE? Where on earth was the cat?
And then I saw the little red tail.... hanging out of the pillowcase.
She had crawled INTO THE PILLOWCASE ON TOP OF THE PILLOW.
I laughed so hard I cried, and I picked her up and hugged her half to death, and I took her back into the kitchen, and after I administered the vitamin goo I wiped her mouth with a wet paper towel, and administered an entire jar of ham baby food, one fingerfull at a time, to much loud purring, and then I put her right back under the comforter and lay down next to her on top of the bed and laughed and laughed and laughed... and thanked God that she was still alive, and had such a sense of humor, and had not as much as bared a single tooth or claw on that day or any other day when she was being tended to.
If I live another fifty years, I will never get a better or more meaningful Christmas present.
