Apr
22
“That is a big cat,” the vet said.
“Big as in, large, or big as in, fat?” I asked.
“Both,” she replied.
“The other one is just as big.”
“Hmm.”
It was at that moment that I finally accepted the truth, my cats are gargantuan. The vet’s pursed lips and disapproving look said it all. Apparently, I’m not fit to rear cats. I wonder what that says about my ability to raise humans? Make no mistake, I agree that my cats are big boned. When they lay on their sides, they look like beached whales. If they were in cat food commercials, they would be plus size models. But let’s face it, no cat food company wants a nineteen pound animal in their commercials. Who would buy food that makes their cat look swollen? On the flip side, if someone ever opens up a Big and Round apparel store, my pets will clean up at those auditions.
The thing is, I’m pretty attached to my cats, and if something were to happen to one of them, I’d be more than a little upset. (Something already happened to one of them, but he recovered, sort of.) We’ve tried different foods, cutting back on their portions, etc. But every year, when I take them for their annual physical, they’re a pound or so heavier. The vet told me to cut their daily allotment in half. We started that about two weeks ago, now one of them spends most of her day laying next to the bowl and tapping it with her paw. If you go into the kitchen, and she’s not already in there, she follows you, just in case you might be thinking of feeding her. I thought the other one was okay with the whole thing, but this morning I walked into the kitchen and saw him staring at the food bowl. They had already cleaned it out. He didn’t acknowledge me; he just stood there, as if he could will food to appear.
Perhaps they’re right. After all, don’t I have an implied covenant with the cats that I will take care of them, and that in return, they’ll be the embodiment of unadulterated awesome (this is how the wife and I refer to anything that our cats do that is cute, brilliant, of passing interest, not of any importance whatsoever, etc.)? Starvation, which is, I’m sure, how they would describe it if they had vocal chords, and brains capable of higher thought, is not a part of our tacit agreement. And yet, I know that helping them lose weight is more important than their efforts to make me feel bad. It just doesn’t feel that way.