You always think the people in your life are unique snowflakes, but over time familiarity wears that awareness away. Then they volunteer to shank your cat and you remember just how special they truly are. She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed now requires biweekly sessions with an IV to stay sufficiently hydrated to live. Obviously we call that our cat stabbing time of the week, because what else would you call it?
I've had multiple offers from friends to assist in the process of pinning the cat down, jabbing a needle into her skin and then holding her while she complains and tries to ooze out your arms. The whole thing is far more fun to talk about then actually do. I always end up feeling both mean and self-righteous ("Don't you want to live?! Why are you fighting this?") with a dash of ridiculous thrown in ("We will build her stronger, better..."). Something about her sad-angry mews while she's pinned/wrapped like a burrito in a towel is just so pathetic.
That my friends would actually offer to be a part of this process is hilarious to me. I would never volunteer to stab my friend's animals. Hell, the only people I'll hold down to administer needed medical aid against their will is Toddler Flails-a-lot and maybe Husband-cat. I just as soon leave that job to the professionals. It's a little disquieting that my friends -- with no medical experience, mind you -- are more than willing to jump in with both feet.
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