Nice try, old man...

Rufus is a big boy.  He is also a strong boy.  Very mellow most of the time, but he is strong-willed, as well.

A week or so ago, we stopped at the vet's office and got some "kitty downers" to mellow him out for some grooming needs.  "Grooming needs?" you ask.  Kinda nosy, aren't ya.  He does not like to have his nails clipped and especially doesn't want anyone near his... um... nether regions.  He is also a furry boy.

If you read the book Cat On A Leash, you may recall the part where I trimmed the fur around Molly's hind-end because she had some butt-crusties on there.  Yes, this was before she was officially ours... I always wondered if her former owners noticed that someone had trimmed their cat's ass.

Rufus needs a bit of trimming.  Yes, there.  He's a big boy - he poops big.  You do the math.  Apparently he was taught to not let anyone touch you in your bathing suit area.  No, he does not wear a bathing suit.  Really?  That's what you took from this?

Anyway, we decided today was the day.  I crushed up half a pill and put it in a bit of his favorite food.  He sniffed at it and said, "That ain't right."

"Yes, it is, Buddy - go ahead and eat it."

He said, "Now I really know something ain't right."

Joan tried putting half a pill in a snack for him... "Phatoooey!"  Yes, that is the sound of a big cat spitting out half a pill.

As lunch time approached, I added more of his favorite soft food, and a bit of hard food.  He always eats the soft food first.  Nope... he looked at the food again, didn't even sniff it, and ate the hard.  Didn't touch the soft food.  Looked up at me and said, "Nice try, old man."

I'm OK with him calling me Pops - I don't like "old man."

I am convinced that he understands what we are saying.  I understand him most of the time.  The boy is sharp.  Joan and I are going to have to meet in secret to plan further.