Eight months ago, my DH decided he wanted to go on a diet. As a child, he was always stick thin, eating whatever he wanted with little consequence. As years went by, however, poundage accumulated (as it does for all of us), and while he was never really terribly overweight, he was no longer the lean, string-bean he used to be.
Life insurance renewal time brought to light the benefits of shedding 15 pounds though, and he has been better than I could ever be with regard to his eating. Being preoccupied with fitness and weight brought into sharp relief the other member of our family who actually happens to be grossly overweight. That member would be our cat.
“Good grief your fat!” Hubby exclaimed one day as the cat waddled into the the kitchen, pausing to stretch. I looked over as the cat lay down, his rotund belly spreading out over the floor like a fat seal.
“Um, he is getting fat,” I agree. “Well, it just occurs to me that I think the Vet said 1/2 scoop a day.” This is diet cat food no less, not regular.
“How much does he get?” My husband asks curiously. “He can’t look like that on 1/2 scoop a day, surely?”
“Well…,” I hesitate. “The kids feed him 1 scoop, but I think sometimes he eats it all then cries in the evening for more. We can’t remember if he’s been fed, so we give him another scoop.” I meet his astounished gaze with a sheepish look. “We just want to shut him up,” I confess as a lame afterthought.
“You realize that’s four times the recommended amount,” he says with sodding logic. “He needs to lose weight, or he won’t make it to the ripe old age of 10,” he says emphatically.
Completely in agreement, we tell the boys they must give him only 1/2 scoop in the morning and not feed him again. That was about a month ago.
Yesterday morning the boys and I were sitting on the couch, and the cat comes in and walks right up to Bugs, sits down and stares at him until he gets his attention, then lets out two of the loudest, angriest meow’s I’ve ever heard. I swear if he could talk he would have said, “GET UP AND FEED ME! NOW!!!!!!”
We all started laughing. “I don’t think he likes the diet,” I said watching him look thoroughly annoyed with us. “And I don’t blame him. He’s starving and there’s no results.”
Trotting to his bowl with paunch swinging side to side, he appears miffed at the small amount of food in it, and I wonder if he’d trade a shorter life and little hunger over a longer life and a lot of hunger. I’m pretty sure he’d take the shorter option.