Our cat now has a prescription for antidepressants. If you see her drinking alcohol or driving heavy machinery, please report her to us, as she’d be a danger to herself and to society.

We’ve had to put her on the happy pills since Callie came home. Cat’s don’t show that they’re depressed by moping and sleeping all day – that’s normal cat behavior. No, how cats show that they’re depressed and stressed is to scratch on furniture and try to mark things as their own. It’s a turf war, basically, and my house is the ‘hood.

Cats on pills are a recursive problem, though. To sedate my cat by giving her a pill, you need an already sedated cat if you’re going to get the pill down her throat. My arms are marked with cat scratches from attempts to solve this inherent problem, and yet still no medication has gone down her throat. She’s a suspicious cat, too, so pills or even liquid versions of the medication haven’t been successfully hidden in tuna.

Today I had my six week post-partum checkup. After seeing my wrists, slashed with cat claws, I got a slew of questions of ‘feeling depressed? Angry? …’ No, I haven’t been trying to slit my wrists – my cat’s been trying to do that for me!

Well, our cat has it coming – Monday she’s scheduled to be spayed. Supposedly that’ll help calm her down. Too bad animals are allergic to chocolate – liberal doses, I’ve heard, have near medicinal properties for such things in women.