I knew something was up because Mom was acting very suspiciously. She had been on the telephone, but suddenly left the room. In a few moments she came back, scooped me up, and stuffed me into the prisoner transport unit she calls “The Carrier.” Drat!
Then we had to take a drive in the car. I hate that. To let her know about it, I dug down to the bottom of my oriental roots and vocalized with the greatest despair. I was superbly pathetic and quite loud. Everyone who heard me from their passing cars was thoroughly convinced that I was dying in that car. I was hoping to make Mom realize how cruel she was bieng to me. I think I succeeded. She felt so bad she started to cry, though she may have been laughing, I couldn’t tell for sure.
Then we got there. I could tell from the smell. We were at the V-E-T. I heard something about “yearly check-up” and “shots” before I was whisked off to a small room with a cold stainless steel examining table. Mom set the PTU on the floor after the door was closed. She opened the front so that I could come out if I wanted. I cautiously took half a step out, looked around, sniffed the air and then hissed. I quickly withdrew to the only security available to me, that dreaded carrier.
I must say that the V-E-T was very gentle and the shots didn’t hurt a bit. But what
did hurt was after she weighed me and declared me “
overweight.” What!!?!?! She patted my poochy (hey! that’s off limits!) and showed Mom a chart which was obviously formulated by some quack. It said that my 16 pounds 2 and ½ ounces put me into the overweight category. She said that I should really weigh 14 and a half pounds. According to whom, I ask you? It's not my fault that I can't go outside anymore and get more exercise.
Tell me, do I look overweight to you?
Er, wait a minute, wrong pic. That's my bad side. Forget you saw that one.
I say, tell me, does this sleek, active, athletic looking Me appear overweight to you?
Everyone is fully aware of
Mrs. B’s ordeal and I have no intention of undergoing the same torture. Who comes up with this "overweight" business anyway?
Labels: Is Rascal getting fat?
I had my two month check-up at the V-E-T today.
I'm feeling fine and Dr. C. was very pleased with Me.
I'm active, alert, playful, talkative,
My surgical incision has healed perfectly, all my fur has
The only "problem" is my weight. I now weigh in at 15.5 pounds, which they seem to think is too much. Mom said something about a diet, and Dr. C. said something about 2/3 cup of light Cat food per day, but I'm not worried. I can always eat Catzee's food if I'm hungry, and Dad will always give me treats.
