Monday, January 25th 2021
I am a pet owner who just paid $130 to be told my cat is not, in fact, sick.
He’s just FAT.
I know how this happened.
On Thanksgiving this past year is when we sadly buried our most rambunctious, hilarious -if obnoxious- bunny, Boomsy.
Boomsy used to chase and nip and bully Peter Parker. Parker had to strategize carefully how he would get his R&R, and there was little of it to be had.
Now we are two months out; no dominant bunny, no problem. Also no exercise. It’s gotten so bad that instead of leaping gracefully up onto my lap (or *shoulder* god forbid), he just looks at me plaintively. Instead of jumping up shark-like to gobble a treat, he reaches his paw up and points to it, longingly.
Dear Hubsand points out this cat is still imminently qualified to perform his chief duties: sprawling out on my lap, or chest, or foot of the bed.
How long until he can do all three at once?