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Staff writer Dick Barron shares a story about his cat, Gremmie.

Gremlin, our little, old black cat, is just as feisty and crazy as he was when we adopted him nine years ago.

When we met him at the shelter, he crawled all over us and stood on our shoulders, shrieking with all the noise his tiny body could muster.

He follows us around like a dog with his tiny, little “bark” and is a friend to any stranger in the house.

But that intensity toward life can make him a little obsessive at times.

He had a bad allergic rash on his back legs last year. A shot at the vet’s cured that. But he kept licking his lower back and pretty soon much of his jet black hair was gone, exposing pink skin.

Another shot didn’t do any good until a different vet realized it was a habit, not a disease.

So now we have to give Gremmie, as we call him, some kind of kitty mental-health medicine. We put a bit on our finger and swipe it on the inside of his ear every night. His OCD seems to be lifting already.

But not his tricky personality. He knows when the TV clicks off about 10 p.m. that it’s time for bed. But now he knows it’s also time for medicine. So he jumps off his chair and hides.

I’ve tried standing up without turning the TV off and quickly mounting a surprise grab, but he’s learned to anticipate that and sits warily on the floor hours before TV time is over.

But time is on my side. He is a lot slower at nine than he was as a kitten, and eventually just waits for me to catch him.

Then we can swipe his ear one more time and he can pretend to hate it one more time until the next night.

Contact Dick Barron at richard.barron@news-record.com or 373-7371.