Monkey Prozac

So it's no secret my cat is something of a problem child. Many of my friends, especially those who have lived under the same roof as Lucky, have described him as "evil" and "the devil." I have always said "Animals are just like people: some of them are just jerks, but jerks deserve love too."
Three weeks ago, I was relaxing in the living room of our new condo. I had the front door open and the back door open with the screens shut. It was early evening and there was a nice breeze coming through. I was sitting on my "chair and a half" (that's what it said on the tag when I bought it - too big to be a chair, but a smidge too small to be a loveseat - but to everyone who comes over, it's their favorite chair) watching television and Lucky was sitting in front of the screen, looking out onto the street.
Out of nowhere, Lucky begins to howl, loud and very aggressively. Instinctively, I get up from my seat and turn towards the front door to see what all the noise is for. Apparently, another cat had come right up to the screen. When I got up to investigate, I spooked him and he ran away. That was when it all went horribly wrong.
Angry that I had frightened away the intruder without allowing him the chance to show how big and bad he was, Lucky flew into a state of pissed off that I rarely see him in. He turned, as if to attack the intruding cat, and attacked me instead.
Now, I've been scratched by Lucky more times in my life than I can count. My arms are covered in scars from him. I'm sure people who don't know the cat situation think I cut myself. Oh well. I say this only to stress the fact that him scratching me is not a rare and alarming occurrence, but on this particular occasion, he messed me up BADLY.
After I dislodged him from my legs, I counted 13 points between both legs were he had drawn blood. There were claw marks from at least 3 paws on both calves as well as teeth marks above my knee. I apparently screamed because my roommate Mike came running out of his room to investigate.
This has to stop. I have to always be on guard, not to mention that when people come over, most of the time he has to be locked up in my room so he won't try to eat them. There is a very short list of people that he tolerates, much less actually likes. And what happens when I have children someday?
I took Lucky the Monkey Cat to the vet a few days later. The vet wanted to have a look at him and see how he behaved in order to determine if he was a candidate for medication or not.
While in the waiting room to see the vet, Lucky was in his little cardboard PetCo carrier. A dog got too close to me and Lucky wigged. It looked and sounded like a firecracker had gone off in the box. The whole carrier jumped in a loud, sudden jolt and Lucky growled and hissed like a wild animal. I was so embarrassed, but Lucky was just getting started.
We get into the exam room. I have the box open, but Lucky is still inside. I am petting his head and talking to him while he looks in bewilderment at his strange new surroundings. The vet and a vet assistant enter and the vet asks me to let Lucky out to run around the exam room while we talk. I begrudgingly agree.
At first, Lucky does not want out of the box, but the vet gently tips it over and dumps Lucky on the floor. Lucky walks past the vet assistant, who says hello to Lucky and drops down to let Lucky sniff him. Lucky looks up at the vet assistant and hisses as if to say "F*** you." I kinda giggle and try to scold Lucky, but the vet says to leave him be.
As I am talking to the vet about our options, I am watching Lucky out of the corner of my eye. He sniffs his way around the room then settles near my feet. Then the vet tells me he wants to examine Lucky. He tells me he is going to get a towel to wrap around him so he can take a look at his paws and his head.
After some effort and much growling, the vet assistant scoops up Lucky, loosely wrapped in a towel. While the vet assistant leans over Lucky to hold him down, the vet attempts to look in Lucky's mouth and look at his front paws. Lucky is not having it, at all. When the vet attempts to look at Lucky's back legs, he begins to growl and howl and spray, covering the exam table with cat urine and shooting it almost across the room, nearly missing me. At this point, Lucky breaks free. And here is where it all goes wrong.
After calling for backup, it takes the vet and 2 vet assistants no less than 40 minutes to apprehend an agile and highly aggressive Lucky in a 6X8 exam room. My poor scared little Monkey Cat was finally subdued and placed in his carrier, which was then duct taped shut.
Once I got him home, it took me an hour of coaxing and 2 cans of tuna to get him to stop panting. He is so fat and so aggravated I was worried he was going to have some kind of cardiac event.
Two days later, Lucky's Vanilla Flavored Liquid Prozac arrived at the vet. Why it is Vanilla Flavored, instead of something a cat would eat, is beyond me. It being liquid means filling a plunger rig to .05 every night and holding him down and shooting it in his mouth. I have only recently perfected the right positioning and angle. For the first week and a half, every night was a crap shoot. Sometimes I needed another person's help, sometimes I could manage it by myself.
The other night a stray cat came to the door again and though Lucky yowled and postured, he didn't attack me. Nonetheless, he was still sent to his room and got a cup of cold water on his head.
The vet says it will be at least a month before I notice any real changes. I have 2 months worth of the Prozac, so we'll see where he is at before I refill it. I hope it helps.