June 14th 2005 5:23 pm
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O.kay, so my mom guardian took me to the vet for a "regular check up" and for the hundreth time he said "Well... you know she should weigh about 62 lbs., 82 lbs. is a little too heavy for her frame. Is she getting ANY exercise at all? What are you feeding her?"
I saw the look on her face as she cast about for a place to put her eyes. I could tell what she was thinking too. Yeah, she was thinking, 'I know he thinks it's me that's responsible for making her heavy. I'm overweight too, and he's thinking I feed her just as badly as I feed myself. But it isn't true!"
Whine, whine ,whine! You know what I'm thinking? Hey, frat boy! Shouldn't you have more hair on that head of yours? It's lookin' a little sparse there. Mom starts in on a long litaney of misdemeanors my dad guardian has committed in the way of dispensing "secret snacks". But she adds, "He is the only one who takes her out for her walks, and he does that every day." The vet tells her to "ncrease the excersise, carefully, and decrease the amount of food."
Oh my God! Did I hear him say DECREASE the food? My math isn't too good
but doesn't that mean, LESS food?! How am I going live on LESS food!!? As it is, I only get rice, carrots, and tuna as my daily meal, and a "secret snack" at lunch time when Timmy comes home for lunch, and a light "something-something" when my mom comes home, and then while Timmy is cooking and my mom's not looking, I usually get another "illegal" snack, and then I can usually pick up a few items he drops on the floor "accidentally", and THEN, at night I can count on begging another two snacks from Timmy as he reads before bed time. Sometimes if he can't sleep, and gets up during the night, HE has to have a snack, and so he can't live with himself unless he gives me half of it. I like to think I'm doing him a favor. Of course, every once in a while my daily meal is rotated with salmon, raw beef, trout, catfish, green beans (m-m-m-m-m-!), punctuated with small surprises of apple slices, peaches, mandarin oranges, peanuts, lentils and chicken soup. I mean this isn't exactly a king's table were' talkin' about here. What exactly does that hair folically challanged vet mean when he says DECREASE the food?!
And of course there are the lovely, wonderous Sunday breakfasts that Timmy makes for me. He makes me his specialty, the three-egg-extravaganza-omlette-cat! He puts little cherry tomatoes for the eyes and nose, toast points for ears and thinly sliced bread for the whiskers! Scrumptious! Sometimes it comes with a side of capers and salmon.
As me and my mom load up into the car for the ride home, she looks at me, with the same love she has always looked at me with to be sure, but her words are now so strange. She says, "Sorry punkin head. This time I mean it. I HAVE to help you lose weight. That means I'll have to have a very serious conversation with Timmy too. You'll both have to give some things up."
That EVIL and acursed vet can't possibly mean that... that... I can't even say it! Can he mean for me to GIVE UP my mere pittance of life-giving, health-retaining sustenance? *sniff* How? Oh how will I make it through the day with out my "secret snacks", my few and far between "illegal snacks" or even my little "something-somethings" ? Woe is me! Where a happy and full stomach once lived, now only DOOM and DREAD do dwell.
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