What makes Jupiter so mean?
This is Jupiter. He may look like a sweet, fluffy, perfect specimen of felinity, but he is not. Jupiter is a mean kitty. Back in the heyday of his evil, he would jump up on the kitchen table as we were eating and lay down, flexing the claws in his right paw threateningly. In 1998, he attacked a door to door salesman, cornered a friend in the bathroom, and had a showdown with another friend on the kitchen table on a three day rampage. He was diagnosed by the veterinarian with “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde” syndrome. The vet prescribed him Paxil, but it was to no avail.
Jupiter refused to take the medicine. If we hid it in a plate of tuna, he ate around the pill. If we tried to shove it down his throat, we ended up with scabs on our throats. When we did give him the medicine, he seemed calmer and sweet and stopped coming up to you purring, inviting you to pet him, then attacking when you let your guard down. But it was a thirty minute ordeal getting him his medicine every day. And I was losing a lot of blood. We took him back to the vet, who offered to put him to sleep. (Apparently during his last visit Jup had made an enemy of Dr. Stevens.) We said HELL NO — after all, we love our mean kitty.
Once after being at the vet, Jupiter would not come out of his cage. He stayed in the back and yowled like a lion, biting fiercely and kicking with his back legs against anyone or anything that came this way. Eventually my husband got him out of the cage but Jup tore through the leather gloves he was wearing, tearing a huge hole in my husband’s hands. And still, once a week or so, when the stars are misaligned, he goes on a rampage — may the other household cats and plants forgive him.
Photo submitted by: Mary