One Fat Cat With a Blog

Well, I have been successful in my refusal of canned mouse ears. Mom returned me to my diet crunchy plan...the premeasured one. Now, we've been busted again! This time, the one I affectionately call Dad is in big trouble! This is his second offense. It looks bad. What crime? Feeding a dieting (starving!) cat! Can you imagine? One or two extra feeding and he's in hot water with the Chief.

The first time we ran into issues with Mom, AKA, the Chief of the Diet Police, was right before Thanksgiving. Mom had worked out a portion control plan with the vet on some healthy schmelthy cat food. No more free feeding. Two meals a day—MEASURED meals. Well, I don’t know what five-pound-cat-kind-of-feeding-plan this was designed for, but I am a manly man kind of kind. You’ve seen Hungry Man dinners? I need the Hungry Cat dinner plan. Of course, there is no reasoning with the humans!

Miraculously, around Christmas, some unknown benefactors (umm, Dad, the oldest human kid, and the middle little person) began to supply an extra portion or three throughout the day. Under the radar of Chief Mom, of course. It was wonderful. Things were virtually back to normal. I was again a well fed, happy Frito. It began to unravel when Mom picked me up one Friday and realized that perhaps I wasn’t losing weight. She brought out the scale. 23 ¼ pounds. Down ¾ of a pound?? How could that be possible? Maybe I had a thyroid problem? Should we go to the vet? Uh-oh. That went so well for me last time.

She began a little undercover investigation of sorts and we were busted! We had a great little system going. Mom would feed me my dinner when she put the little people to bed…then Dad would feed me in the middle of the night when I raised a “ruckus”—but, I would make sure to have it all gone before Mom came downstairs to feed me breakfast…then before the middle little one went to school, I would hit her up for a little midmorning snack. Handful (or two—her hands are small) of treats. Then I’d hold out all day, a good six hours, until the oldest came home from school…then I’d beg and plead and even let her pet me. Degrading, yes, but well worth that handful of cat food. Then it came crashing down. Mom got up extra early one day to iron and found a full food bowl!! Not possible since she had watched me eat ½ the bowl the night before. The interrogations started. Dad broke first. Mom’s a tough one. Then the oldest admitted to the mid afternoon feeding. She hasn’t broken the middle kid yet, but I don’t see any treats in my future.

Now Dad's been nabbed again for coming to my aid. This time, I may really be on a diet for good. It's bad, very bad.