Every day I thank my lucky stars for “malta”, or malt extract paste. Most people with cats know the benefits of giving the beasts a daily dose of malt paste, especially during shedding season, as this helps with the passing of hairballs. And most cats will happily lick a dollop off your finger as it’s like cat candy to them (though to me it’s more like the feline version of marmite).

The reason I am extra grateful for malta these days is because although Azar was pronounced as being in pretty good health for his age when I last took him to see Yolanda the vet, since then he has required a new daily routine involving a kidney supplement in pill form and a dose of a mild liquid oral laxative.

Administering the laxative is easy-peasy and I can even do it on my own, though it’s much easier when Nog is there to help. He will pick up Azar and make a big fuss over him, then bring him into the kitchen where I’ve prepared the syringe with 2mls of gloop, and I give it to Azar in two squirts with lots of kisses on the head in between. I am still amazed that he lets me do this, but I reckon he knows – like the time I had to force-feed him – that I am doing this for his own good.

But pilling? Fergetaboudit. I remember when Sunny was taking this same kidney supplement, which was crushed up into a spoonful of kitteh paté… he’d go crazy for it thinking it was a special treat. But Azar has always been canny about this sort of thing and can sniff out spiked food in a flash. Also, he’s never been a fan of wet cat food, always preferring his bikkys. So what to do? And then it occurred to me to try mixing the crushed pill into a dollop of malta, which is so stinky and gloopy that it would be sure to hide the taste and, once smeared onto an unsuspecting paw, there would be no option but to lick it off.

And I was right! Though I have had help. Because although Azar would never deign to be taken in by the spiked paté trick, he has chosen to go along with the malt thing. Why? Who knows. Perhaps because the other two make a dive for his smeared paw and I have to take them aside and give them their own malt treat, so Azar thinks it’s an even more special treat for him? Or perhaps because Azar knows I am trying to help him. And so he helps me do just that.

I’m not one to anthropomorphise the behaviour of my cats, but I like to give credit where credit is due, and I think Azar’s behaviour is – and has always been – much more intuitive than most humans I’ve met. Bless him. And bless malta.