As it turns out, cats really do have nine lives. Or, at least they have more than one. We were all prepared to sadly say so long to Polar Bear when the vet called the other day. Dr. Troy said she didn't want to talk us into anything we didn't want to do but she suggested a medicine that might call him down.
We had given him this medicine last summer when Polar Bear started having anxiety problems due to a cat that was running through the neighborhood. We stopped it because ... well ... it was expensive. But if you want to say you have tried everything, then you have to try ... everything.
We now have the only cat in Como Park (and, I suspect, Minnesota) that is on Prozac. Oh, it has another name, a long, drawn out thing that I could only pronounce if I have consumed a half dozen Grand Marniers. Trust me, it is Prozac.
So far, so good. Polar Bear seems to have remembered where his box is and we have not found any droplets of liquid in places that would cause the lady of the house to have a conniption. (That's a good thing, by the way. Conniptions are not pleasant sights.)
PB lives on for now. My wife is considered so liberal that my brother Johnny once remarked "There is nobody to the left of Lynne." (To her credit, she replied, "Thank you.")
However, even liberals have their moments. Dr. Troy wrote a prescription for two months worth of medicine for Polar Bear. When Lynne brought it to the pharmacist, she ordered only a one-month dose. Even for a diehard left winger, there is a time and place to be conservative.
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