Anyone who has visits our house we greet first with hellos and howareyous. But almost immediately after we hit them with warnings not to touch the calico cat. "She bites," we say. "You have been warned."
Inevitably, almost every visitor attempts to pet Callie, and, almost as inevitably, they're all bitten. "They were warned," we'll probably tell the judge one day.
But, that may be changing.
Callie's on Prozac.
Now, wait. Before any of you condemn us for drugging our high-strung, aphephobic cat, hear me out.
From very on, Callie has been, uh, special. A co-worker in Jackson, Miss. found her alone, cold and hungry near a Dumpster and took her home. This co-worker knew Christina wanted a cat and delivered. We loved Callie. We fed her. We gave her shots. We petted her. We withdrew our hands in bloody, stinging pain. And we peeled the cute, cuddly Callie from our faces one claw at a time. She was, in a word, difficult. Our veterinarian even then proposed pharmaceuticals, but we decided instead to cure Callie with love, attention and patience.
It didn't work.
But that's not why we're drugging her. Callie has recently developed, as diagnosed by our vet, an "obsessive grooming habit." She's going bald in spots. And bald kitties are neither pretty nor happy. The vet theorizes it could be because of some stress like Christina being pregnant or all the rearranging we're doing in the house to get ready for Baby T.
The main side effect of the drug is a calmer, more loving Callie. But we found out quickly that she still bites. So the drug has made her easier to love, but hasn't changed her personality. And we like that.
You have been warned.
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