Rufie...

Not to be confused with roofie, the date rape drug.

Sometimes I call my big furry boy "Ruf"... or "Rufie"... but mostly "Rufus."  And, when he's in trouble, which is almost never - Rufus Murphy.  You know you're in trouble when your middle name gets used.

Joan had a plan.  Oh, I should state that we are still trying to get Rufus to allow us to trim his nether regions.  He does not like anyone to touch his nether regions.  We still have the cat "happy pills" that we got from the vet.  Joan's plan: give him half a pill before I feed him this morning.  I cuddled him in, put the "pill shooter" we got from Amazon in his mount, launched the pill in, and... he spit it back out.

I put the pill back in the pill shooter, put him on his tower, opened his jaws, and he clenched them tight.  It took both hands to open his mouth, but that left no more hands for the pill shooter.  The scuffle must have awakened Joan, because she got out of bed to give me a hand.  With her holding him, my prying open his jaw, him moving his head back and forth, I managed to get the pill shooter in his mouth, launched the pill, and... he spit it out again.

Joan said, "Get him a drink of water - the pill probably tastes bad."  If you haven't tried, you don't just "pour water into a cat's mouth - that would be like water-boarding him.  If you put him down so he can get a drink on his own, you have lost the advantage of holding him so you can continue to try to shove a "happy pill" in him.  I picked the pill out of his glorious mane, put it back in the pill shooter, put it in his mouth, and... he swallowed it.

With a fair bit of theatrics, that would have you believe he thinks you poisoned him.  With that out of the way, I gave him a small bit of his breakfast... I wanted to make sure he wasn't going to shove a paw down his throat to make himself yak the pill back up.  With that food down, I gave him the rest of his breakfast.

Then, we watched.

The vet said it might take a couple hours for him to get drowsy.  An hour and a half in, I got out my guitar and quietly played for him while he stretched out in the big chair.  Joan brought the nail clippers and got one nail done before Rufus said, "Enough, you puny humans!"  She opened his legs to check on the matting, and he raised his paw, ready to strike.  In a sleepy sorta way.  He wasn't fast, but he wasn't giving up the fight.  He closed his eyes, but one of them would open any time you came near him.

The vet did say we could give him the second half of the pill after two hours, but I have this fear of over-dosing him.  Plus, do not confuse drowsy with lack of power... the furry boy remains strong and defiant: "You shall not touch my nether regions!"  No idea why he gets that Super-Villain voice when defending his nether regions, but it is effective.  We may have to call in a Super-Hero.

His nether regions remain untouched. 

If Stan Lee were still alive, I'd pitch him the story of SuperBlonde vs the dreaded Dingleberry Feline.  Rufus sees it from a different perspective: CatMan vs the Nether Region Predator.  In either scenario, I am the announcer: "Tune in again for next week's adventure..."

The photo above is after the effects of the happy pill wore off.  Still a happy, photogenic boy.