(Guest Blogger Weith Kick at http://weithkick.blogspot.com/)
We have a fat cat. Her name is Lily
She wasn't always this way. There was a time when she was as lithe as a ballerina, agile and graceful. Somewhere along the way she became a cow, and I don't mean cash.
It could be that since she was born with only 3 feet mobility is more of a challenge for her than that of other four-pawed felines; so getting in a daily dose of cardiovascular exercise proves difficult. But don't let 4 legs, 3 feet and one sad, little stub fool you. Typically, she walks with a limp, BUT when she needs to move she can move. She can run, she can jump. She reminds me of CGI Yoda (as opposed to Muppet Yoda.) He shuffles along with a cane, but when the chips are down he can to kick some serious Dark Side Ass. Put a lightsaber in his ugly, little, green hands and he'll give you an ass-whupping you ain't soon forget, fool.
Lily doesn't give ass-whuppings or any kind of whuppings. She's a lover, not a fighter, and always has been. She's delicate like the declining middle-class, sweet like the smell of my gas, fat like J-Lo's reverent ass.
Her brother Theo wasn't so lucky. He was born with only 3 legs. He was a wonderful pet. More dog than cat. He wasn't at all independent like how cats are supposed to be. He was codependent and in need of constant attention. He followed you everywhere and "meowed" incessantly if you weren't around. To the point where you wanted to sell him off to the neighborhood Chinese restaurant. When he died suddenly and inexplicably at the age 7 we were heartbroken. As was his sister, fat Lily. Lazy Lily.
It was after his death that her weight began to mushroom. Could it be that she sunk into a deep depression because of his death? I think not. You see, Theo, not only codependent, was insanely jealous and possessive of Misty and me. No one could have us but him. When Lily came into the same room we were in he would chase her out. When we were lucky enough to give Lily attention he unhappily allowed it. From a distance he watched as we showered her with love. But as soon as we stopped, the moment we left the room or focused our attentions elsewhere he would attack her and the cat fight would ensue. When Theo was alive Lily was forced to exercise, keeping her fit and trim.
Theo was a lover too, but he was a selfish lover. All love had to be directed toward him and then he was the sweetest, kindest cat. He ruled the house. He got more attention than even our dogs did. He demanded it. But he loved people. I think he was bitter toward Lily because she had 4 legs and he 3. When they fought he would always go for her Achilles' heel. Literally. He attacked her where she was most vulnerable, on her sad, little, stubby paw.
My theory behind Lily's weight gain is lack of torture by her brother. Now that Theo is gone she is the top cat. When Theo was around she was quiet and shy. Now it's as though she's been taken over by Theo's spirit. She meows a lot more and expects a lot more attention from us. There is no need for her to do anything all day but eat and sleep. There's no need for sharing. And while she may be lazy, she is also lovely. Lovely Lily.
8 hours ago