Pilling your cat: A hard act to swallow

When I was a new graduate, I never hesitated to prescribe pills for my feline patients.  I would demonstrate the technique of administering a capsule or tablet, and down the hatch it would go.  Occasionally my cat clients would call and tell me that they couldn’t pill their cat.  I knew that couldn’t possibly be true: There was simply no such thing as an “unpillable cat”!  After all, I had easily popped in that medication at the appointment.

So I called it the “myth of the unpillable cat” — until a few months into my first year of practice.  Because that’s when I met such a rascal, and became more humble.

It’s one thing if clients can’t pill their cat.  They don’t have our expertise, and they are afraid of hurting their little buddy, or they’re just plain afraid of her; one little struggle or hiss, and they give up.  Veterinarians, on the other hand, know every cat trick in the book.   But even the slyest and strongest among us is no match for a truly determined feline.

 

First, she hears the pill bottle rattle. (Here’s a hint: Take the pill out of the bottle well ahead of time.)  Just that sound is enough to send her into the crawl space for two days.  But sometimes she’ll humor you and allow you to put her into the pilling position.  You gently scruff her or place your hand over her muzzle, and that’s when the trouble starts:  If she doesn’t lacerate your forearms with her front claws, she’ll flip her hind legs over her head and push you away with her well-armed hind paws, at the same time twisting her body into impossible positions, all of which yields her desired result:  You simply have to let go.  Think you can wrap this scoundrel in a towel like a mummy and avoid the flying fur?  Hah! The unpillable cat laughs at a stinking towel!  D.H. Lawrence said that “reason is a supple nymph, and slippery as a fish by nature.”  In my opinion, reason doesn’t hold a candle to the unpillable cat.

Then there is the sly feline who allows her people to pop the pill.  But no matter how far down her throat they push it, this creature has a true gift:  She can always regurgitate it.  I see these cats from time to time, and I’m always grudgingly impressed.  

There are alternatives to pills, of course.  There are injections, but they don’t appeal to most cat owners or to their kitties.  Liquid oral concoctions and instant-dissolving tablets are easier to administer, but the unpillable cat will have none of that: As soon as the medication hits her tongue, she turns on a fountain of foamy saliva and violently shakes her head while racing around the house.

The most promising solution is delivery of medication via a cream, applied to the inner surface of the ear, but not many medications come in that form.  And true to her nature, the hard-core unpillable cat (maybe I should rename this critter “the unmedicatable cat,” but it doesn’t slip off the tongue) has a technique to prevent that.  Her response is immediate and violent, especially if she is equipped with front claws.  

So how do we treat these kitties?  We can’t, and we don’t.  Sometimes their life depends on the very medications they reject, but forcing a cat to do something to which he is violently opposed can destroy the bond he has with his people.  Many clients have told me that they would rather forgo treatment and take the consequences than have their cat hate them.  Still, I like to get these patients into our office to check the owner’s technique. Occasionally I find they’re just going about it the wrong way; a few tweaks and all is well.  But to the steadfastly unpillable cat, I say, “I have met the devil, and it is thee!”