They say that cats have nine lives and I’m beginning to
worry about Midnight. He’s on about number 5 right now, as far as I can tell.
Two flights with the hawks and now 3 with the big Tabby up the street.
On behalf of said Tabby, Midnight has been where he shouldn't
be in relation to visiting “Ghost”, the local feline slut who sashay’s
throughout the neighborhood, exciting all the boy cats. They should know
better, but at the same time, she knows just what she’s doing.
I've tried talking to Midnight about this constant fighting,
but he just looks at me with those eyes. And then I give him tuna. The fights
make him a bit skittish immediately afterwards, but by the next can of tuna he’s
ready to go again!
Sometimes I have to put some crushed Penicillin in his food
to make sure his wounds don’t get infected. About 100 mg’s usually does the
trick. I crush the tablet in a spoon.
I really love this guy, but I wish he would stop fighting.
Perhaps I would find it less of a problem if he were winning; but that doesn't
seem to be the case. So I’ll just stock up on tuna and Penicillin, hoping for
the best.
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