Betraying My Cat
Call me dramatic, but giving my boy eye medicine makes me feel like I'm doing something mean
When the winking started, I didn’t think much of it. Juno, our four-year-old kitty cat, often blinks one eye at a time — we call it “froggy blinking,” since it reminds of us of how some amphibians will do the same thing. He’s got a lot of silly little habits, and this just happens to be one of them.
But a few weeks ago he winked at us with his left eye and wasn’t able to open it back up all the way. Up close, there was some swelling around Juno’s tear duct, and his eye looked watery. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to be in pain, judging by the fact that he still wanted to rub the left side of his face on us for pets.
I called the vet, but the quickest appointment we could get was a week away. We had no choice but to keep an eye on his left eye for a few days to see what would happen. The emergency vet was our absolute last resort, especially since Juno didn’t have any other symptoms and was eating, drinking, and pooping normally. And to make matters more complicated, we were leaving for a trip to Ithaca just a few days.
Right before we left, we dropped Juno off at a friend’s house with some instructions to clean his eye with warm water on a cotton ball twice a day. Removing any gunk seemed to help Juno keep his eye open, and it was the best we could do until our vet visit came up.
Things were mostly the same with his eye for the first few days we were gone. But then, about 48 hours before we were supposed to come home, our friend who was watching Juno said his eyelid looked a lot more swollen than before. Still, Juno was in good spirits and doing all his normal cat stuff, like begging for treats and cuddling with whoever paid him attention that day.
We ultimately decided that our friend not take him to the emergency vet because the cost was insane. If our boy suddenly stopped acting like his normal, silly self, the story might’ve been different. But we were so close to being back in Wisconsin, and just days from the vet visit. We figured Juno would pull through.
And sure enough, Mr. Loaf was just fine when we picked him up to go home. Yes, Juno’s eye still didn’t look great — but it wasn’t nearly as bad as it looked in the pictures our friend sent us just a day ago. We continued to keep it clean until the vet visit, which was just another day away.
The vet had a pretty boring answer for us about Juno’s eye once we did get into the clinic. His swollen eyelid was likely due to a flare-up of feline herpes, which is super common in cats. To clear it up, he got some prescription antibiotics to take care of any lingering bacteria that might be making the swelling worse.
Finally, we had an answer — and a solution! But we also learned that we’d have to squirt antibiotic paste directly in Juno’s eye twice a day. Not exactly the most graceful application.
If you’ve never put antibiotic gel into a cat’s eye before, it goes like this: first, you have to wrangle your furry creature into a secure body hold so they can’t wriggle away. Then, you (or a helper) has to grab their little head and turn it upwards so that their eye is actually visible in the light. That may involve prying their eyelid open with two fingers.
The actual gel-squirting part can be tricky. The instructions on Juno’s antibiotics say to administer a small strip of gel directly to the eye, but I often find myself squeezing it onto his eyelid, because he tries to shake his face out of my grasp. One night, I got way too much gel in his eye and didn’t realize it until I was sitting with him and could literally hear his bottom and top eyelids smacking together due to all the moisture.
But the worst part of doing this daily gel administration is the way it makes me feel towards my cat. Juno hates medicine time. Once we get the gel in his eye, he runs circles around our living room like someone’s chasing him and then makes a beeline for our bed, where he burrows underneath. If he sees us coming, even with a bag of treats, Juno just shrinks away and doesn’t want us to pet him.
This is really abnormal behavior for Juno. Normally, he’s super sweet and social, not to mention extremely food-motivated. After his eye meds, he’s the complete opposite. And I can’t help but feel like I’ve done something awful to my furry friend.
I know the benefits of giving him meds outweigh the downsides that come with it. But this whole experience has caused an extra layer of anxiety and sadness for yours truly.
I think the worst part is that Ryan and I have to find clever ways to ambush Juno to give him his medicine, which is typically when he’s relaxing. Our boy will have the best evening, complete with playtime, pets, and treats. And then he’ll suddenly be pinned down, getting cold goo squeezed in his eye.
Honestly, it feels like we’re betraying him. I know my thoughts are dramatic because nearly everyone has to give their pets meds at some point in their life. I just really don’t like this process! If we could put the gel somewhere else, like on his back (ala heartworm medication), that would be great. But alas, Juno just had to have something happen to his eye, of all organs.
Anyway, I’m thankful to report that as of today, Juno’s eye looks great and we’ve now finished our week of antibiotics. All this stress seems to have paid off, and I hope this is the last time we ever have to give him eye gel. Maybe that’s wishful thinking, but I’m gonna just pretend that one eye infection is all my cat will ever get.
Come write with me in September! I’m teaching a workshop called Grief and Memoir: Writing to Heal. It was originally supposed to happen in August, but we postponed until next month due to unforeseen circumstances (like my cat being sick).
If you’ve been a reader here for a while, you’ll know that I frequently write about my dad’s passing in 2018 and how that experience left a lasting mark on me as a person. Writing is a way for me to process that loss year after year, because grief never really goes away.
I designed a class where we’ll talk all about grief writing — why it matters, what to do when it feels difficult, and how we can use it as a tool for healing. If you’ve been impacted by a significant loss in your life, be that of a parent, pet, friend, or even a place or state of being, this class is for you.
There will be two sessions: an in-person class at WordHaven Bookhouse in Sheboygan, WI, and a virtual class that anyone can attend. You can sign up for both classes on the WordHaven website. Each one is $10 per person.
In-person class at WordHaven: Saturday, Sept. 7 (sign up here)
Virtual class: Saturday, Sept. 14 at 1pm Central Time (sign up here)
Hope to see you there!
If you enjoyed this post, consider dropping a donation in my tip jar on Ko-fi!
This newsletter will always be free to read and share, but I rely on the generous donations of readers to build financial security and keep this project going long-term.
Huge shoutout to my 2024 supporters:
Dennis T.
KRW
Grandma Gin Gin
Tara Y.
Murphy Kaye
Maddie B.
Mom
Emma H.
Molly G.
❤️❤️❤️