For years, female humans have obsessed about their weight, often asking their male humans rhetorical questions like, “Do I look fat to you?” As if some male human would be dim-witted enough to say, “Yeah, you could stand to lose a few pounds.” Even if a female human was as big as all outdoors, any male human that responded to a “fat” question with anything other than an emphatic “No!” would be asking for trouble on a nuclear scale.
When Steve’s female concludes that she needs to shed some poundage, she goes on something called a “diet.” From what I can determine, a diet involves giving up good food like hamburgers and pizza and replacing it with boring food such as salad and tofu (yuckko) until the desired weight loss is achieved. Of course, this makes Steve’s female inordinately cranky, which in turn makes Steve’s life (and mine) miserable. And if Steve tries to eat any good food around his female, she glares at him with a look that says, “How dare you enjoy yourself while I suffer to make myself more attractive for you!”
No, fellow cat, it’s not a pretty picture. But it can get much, much worse. Oh, yes. Just imagine that the diet victim is… you!
For some reason, many humans think we cats should be svelte, trim and toned up like a gym rat that spends 17 hours a day lifting weights and preening in front of a mirror. Some cats, like me for instance, are big boned and prone to a little expanse, so how can we help it if we put on an extra pound or two… or three or four? Where do humans think the expression “Fat Cat” came from? Besides, who wants to look like a skeletal fashion model anyway?
Let me tell you a little story about what happened when Steve and the female tried to put ME on a diet… and how I rose to the occasion and thwarted their every effort.
Last summer, Steve took me to the hated vet for my annual physical and shots (ouch!). As usual, it was wicked scary. The humiliating shove into the kitty carrier, the death-defying drive to the painmaster’s office, the endless wait to see the “doctor” while surrounded by other terrorized cats and yowling, slathering dogs.
But the worst part of the visit was at the very end of my examination/torture session, when the painmaster told Steve, “Quasi is in very good health except for one thing… he’s obese. He could stand to lose three or four pounds.”
My kitty eyes widened in disbelief. Obese! No way!
“Quasi needs to be on ‘lite’ cat food for awhile. And you’ll have to cut his dry food by about two thirds.”
You can’t be serious. I’ll waste away to nothing!
“And he could use more exercise.”
More exercise! How will I sleep 20 hours a day and work on my plan for world domination if I have to waste time chasing a fake mouse or some wiggly cat toy?
But alas. On the way out of the vet’s office, Steve picked up a case of expensive “lite” specially-formulated diet cat food with the name “Duck & Green Peas.” Gag-O-Rama! Clearly, I wasn’t going to eat any of that.
Now right about here, you’re probably thinking, “Geez, Quaz, this diet thing sounds mighty unpleasant. What if my human does this to me?”
Well, if you’re a plus-size cat like me, have no fear. As usual, I came up with an inventive solution to circumvent this ill-conceived diet concept and keep my stomach full of delicious, fattening food despite the best efforts of Steve and his female to turn me into another Kate Moss.