Lucy and I blew our pill-taking batting average with the damn worm pills. I can pop the Capstars down their throats without their even knowing anything went down there. The worm pills are a little bigger circumference than an aspirin and nearly twice as thick. It's safe to say they pretty much know I've thrown something down their throats with those. I kept missing my opening with Lucy's first one; she was able to spit it out 7 times. Plenty of time to turn on her Anti-handling Instant Mega-shed Mechanism. I was ready for the groomer's by the time we were done. I only missed once with pill #2, thank goodness.
An interesting payoff with all this wackiness of pills and flea searches and butt-checks and traipsing to John's during flea-spraying and near-constant vacuuming is they've become exponentially braver the last couple weeks. They've never been as weirded by the vacuum as most cats, just not crazy about the racket, but now they don't even really worry about that much. And when the crates come out now they don't scramble under the bed immediately but are nearing blasé (til I grab one of them at least). After pills or any other less-icky handling in the past they would usually spend the next hour or two under the bed but I've been very good about post-pill treats so Sam just shakes his head a bit and then looks at me to see if I'm getting the treat yet; Lucy scampers off about three hops, shakes, then turns around to see what I'm doing and faux-grudgingly comes back for her snack. Good thing we started the diet when we did. Ahem.