This morning G needed to take his meds so we could peacefully complete our fall activities with as little drama as possible. We have no applesauce, so he would have to take it with yogurt or a drink. He wasn't thrilled, so I left the pill by his breakfast and went about my morning routine in the kitchen.
I guess he was trying to beat me at my own game. "If I walk away, he'll have to take it without arguing, because I won't be there for him to argue with."
"If I don't take it, she won't notice, because she's not here to see."
Stalemate for ten minutes until J says, "Hugo (the cat) is eating the thing G's supposed to eat." I'm thinking breakfast bar or peanut butter crackers.
"Well, J, go take it from him." I see J stick his hand in Hugo's mouth and pull something yucky out. I figure he's just saved the eat-anything cat from some human carbs. No big deal.
One minute later, G is yelling, "I can't take it now! I can't take it now! The cat had it!"
Realization dawns on me. My cat nearly ate 10 mg of Focalin XR. I jump up to investigate and find a slimy, chewed-up capsule that fortunately has no holes in it. I'm relieved that I won't have to take the cat to the weekend emergency vet for accidental poisoning. Boy, that would've been a fun story, right? I'm sure it happens all the time...
I pitched the chewed up pill and get him a new one. This time, I stand and watch him take it, and he takes it willingly with some yogurt. And we both felt like winners.
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