It is said that dogs have masters, cats have servants. Bootsie has us, and apparently we are very well trained servants. Too well trained. Somehow he has convinced two clear thinking, and intelligent pet guardians to feed him every time he comes in the door.
He comes and goes a lot, and he has been getting rather fat. So aside from the never ending crunchy dish, he gobbles down a spoonful of canned cat food every time he meows at us.
You try ignoring a demanding ball of fur, that follows you around constantly, until he is fed. He even resorts to swatting at our feet, and laying down in front of us. I know, bad tricks should not be rewarded.
The final straw, or should I call it a reality check was last week when Turf Tooter, and Tim the Farmer were here. One of them had the audacity to call my darling baby-kins a Vietnamese Pot Bellied pig.
I mean the nerve, yes, so my baby is a little bit big boned, this is still his kitty fat, [he’s almost 3], and I am sure it’s just winter weight….it will all disappear when he gets more active in the spring.
OK, I am a just a tiny bit in denial about the Boo’s weighty issues.
After the lecture at the pet store from the very informative clerk, we realized that Boo didn’t need to eat a can of cat food a day. Gar [let’s blame it on him] had misheard that it was the dry food that made him gain weight. So we were happily giving him canned, and fattening him up too much.
Now he is on the “Bootsie version” of the Jenny Craig diet. Our goal is one teaspoon of canned food, and all the crunchies he wants per day. So far we are working our way down from 5 tablespoons a day. We have reached 4 per day, and trust me, he isn’t liking it.
Not one bit.
I sure hope those scratches on my ankles heal soon, because cranky, forced to diet kitty isn’t much fun.
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