This cat diet is really coming along

As you know because you are a good and faithful reader, Izzy has been on a diet for a few months now. She is…she's a big girl. But we've been whittling down her food supply and giving her higher-quality meals, and the results are paying off! Here she is today.

As you can see, this is dramatically different from the Izzy from a few months ago.

Or, hell, even last month.

I am never going to stop making this joke.

Anyway, as the photos indicate, she's gone from being a big girl to a big angry girl, who thinks about nothing but murder.

We had to take her to the vet a couple of weeks ago due to a horrifying case of diarrhea. As she is so very large, we had to clean her after each bout. She hissed and clawed as we wet-wiped her butt. I don't think our relationship will ever recover. I think I'm okay with that. Maybe we need to establish some emotional distance, Izzy. Also physical distance. You go sit on the fire escape, now. There you go. Anyway, the vet observed that she has a "thick frame" (have you ever!) and said the best we could hope for is to get her down to 15 pounds (well!). She's now holding steady, since September, at 19. This, despite the strict regimen AND her weird virus, which also caused her to sneeze constantly and shun all foods. And breathe through her mouth and loathe us with every fiber of her being. (That last part is possibly not new.)

I'm supposed to get her to exercise, which I am here to tell you I cannot do. She is too fat to move. I have tried. I dangle a toy above her head and she lies on her back and paws at the air, wheezing. I dose her with catnip and THEN dangle a toy and she lies on her back, marveling at the rainbow trails her paw is leaving. She'll gallop across the room maybe once for something, and then she is done and retreats into a corner to rest up and collect more fortifying fat deposits. If I prod her to move any more than that, she'll hide under our bed and plot my untimely end. The only entertainment that really gets her racing around is a mouse, and I am not about to populate my home with vermin so my cat can get fit and trim. I have my limits!

Meanwhile as I'm writing this she's splayed across the top of the couch behind me, breathing like how Darth Vader would breathe if Darth Vader were a cat. Huuuuh-hoooorgh. Huuuuh-hooorgh.

She could jump on my head right now and snap my neck. Good thing she can't read, right? Stupid cat! HahahaaaaURK

(Huuuuh-hooorgh.)

Hazy shade of autumn

Here is my cat. CAN YOU SEE HER?

Oh, but she is there. She is hiding. She is a sneaky bag-hider.

I put this paper bag on the floor thinking it would invite Izzy to enjoy Fun Active Times during which she would playfully bat at the bag, burn calories, and etc. Instead she decided that this Mystery Bag was actually a brand-new nap cubby. Cat just wants to rest. Only rest, says Cat.

She's still losing weight, though, I think, sort of, I mean SHE IS. Plus--and this is a big plus--her coat, which used to be greasy and disturbing from her midsection area down to her butt, is now all-over pleasant and shiny. You can pet her anywhere! You should not, however, pet her butt, because that is odd and also she will bite you. She is affectionate but her boundaries must be respected.

I AM NOT HERE TO TALK ABOUT MY CAT YOU GUYS.

I'm not sure what to say about things. Things that are not my cat. I tried to write a new post for days, but all I had were three words, and those three words were "Autumn is weird." Fascinating! Tell me more, Ms. Bradley!

I always experience a slight decline in mood and eensy-to-moderate uptick in anxiety level around this time of year, and every year it takes me forever to catch on to what's happening. Sometimes I suspect I am less smartish than I heretofore had figured.

I used to like autumn, too. I have no idea what I was ever thinking. This time of year is terrible and also! It will continue to be terrible until April! The light is waning! The cold is coming! The snows will envelop us all!

For instance. Look at that. Look at our October Snow. That is the second-worst Guns 'n' Roses song ever. How dare you, climate. How dare you right to hell.

On the other hand we can wear layers. And that's nice.

Anyway, I've managed to cheer myself up, in all the boring ways, like taking care of myself and sleeping enough. BORING. Also, I am running while listening to fun music! (Running around, that is. I come back home. I'm not flailing my arms and screaming as I bound across state lines.) And it finally hit me, after watching three episodes of "Breaking Bad" on Netflix, that this is a fantastic show but a terrible choice for someone with anxiety. Right now I should only watch things that make me laugh or at least smile with enthusiasm. Like this other show called Baby Hedgehogs and Kittens in Teacups. Wait, no, that's Cute Overload. I thought Cute Overload was a show.

It SHOULD be a show, at that. Damn it, powerful network executives. What's it going to take?

Operation Slim Cat, Month 2

Yesterday, a reader emailed to ask if my blog was becoming a blog about medications and health problems.

Of course not! It's becoming a blog about medications, health problems, and my overweight cat.

Hiya.

Two months ago (exactly! What do you know! I didn't even plan that) I wrote about our cat Izzy, who is large. Henry calls her "plush," which I think makes her sound … cleaner than she is. More luxurious. It's not easy for a cat to be clean when she can't reach all of her areas to clean them. And let me tell you, she does not want me cleaning her. Oh, I do it anyway, under severe protest. Both of us have been injured, either physically or emotionally, by my frequent attempts at brushing/wiping/rinsing. Our relationship has suffered.

I put her on a diet, as I mentioned. I read a bunch, and I guess you're supposed to not feed your cat unlimited amount of dry food all the time? Huh! Hargh! Oops! I switched her from dry carb-loaded crap to high-quality wet food. Half a can in the morning, half a can in the evening, with a tiny smidge of dry food available as a mid-day snack.

This is a LOT LESS FOOD than I was giving her before. And it's paid off! Wait until you see the dramatic results!

Here was Izzy before:

And here she is now. BEHOLD!

In other words, she looks exactly the same. But IN FACT she is now a svelte NINETEEN pounds instead of the TWENTY she was two months ago, and according to the veterinary health professionals, she is supposed to lose no more than a half pound a month, so we are RIGHT ON SCHEDULE. And I am using many CAPITAL LETTERS to express my ENTHUSIASM.

It might take a while, but someday she'll be able to clean her own butt! Which means that I'll be wiping exactly zero butts in my household! And that's on my Life List!

Izzy is an enthusiastic fan of the wet cat food, but she gobbles it right up and then spends the rest of the day demanding more. She is unappeased by the mid-day kibble snack. She has tasted the wonders of damp lamb-chunks, and she no longer wants any part of dry food. So for most of the day, here is where she can be found, sitting just like this, glaring at me:

Oh, we had to put her food up high, because Charlie will inhale it the minute we turn our backs. And, of course, because the food is wet, we can't hear him munching away. One slurp and it's done. (Until he throws it back up. So charming! Pets are so charming!)

And yes, she sits with her front legs splayed out, like this. I have no idea why. She has always done so. She continues to sit like this while I snap pictures of her, like she's not embarrassed at all.

Cats have no shame. They could use a little shame. Shame might give her the nudge she needs to, I don't know, cover her poop in the litter box. Or not glare at me while I clean her terrible haunches.

I truly hope that once she gets into a more reasonable cat-form, I'll like her a little more. I mean, I don't HATE her, but I'm having a hard time remembering what was so lovable about her. In addition to being kind of filthy and grumpy, she harasses Charlie on a daily basis. And Charlie is a senior citizen. He deserves some peace and quiet in his dotage. Come ON:

How could you bat your Evil Paws of Doom at this face, Izzy? HOW?

We need to talk.

Me: Sit down, please.
Izzy: What?


Me: Do I have to say it?
Izzy: If this is about my weight…
Me: It is.
Izzy: … let me finish. LET ME GODDAMN FINISH. I was going to say, if this is about my weight, I will murder you in your sleep.
Me: …
Izzy: HA! Just kidding! I already WOULD murder you in your sleep, except I haven't figured out how. Yet.
Me: That's reassuring. Look, cat, you… how can I put this?
Izzy: I'm…
Me: You're…


Izzy: Big boned?
Me: Enormous. Grotesque. Overly, overly large.
Izzy: I'm sure I don't know what you mean. Are you referring to my frame?
Me: You do not have a big frame. You have a tiny head and weensy kitten paws. Your BUILD has nothing to do with it.
Izzy: Then it's all hair.
Me: I didn't know that that hair could weigh that much.
Izzy: Well, I mean, some of it is brains and guts and whatever.
Me: You can't clean yourself. Especially in the hindquarters. This is sad, cat.
Izzy: Now you're embarrassing me.
Me: I'm sorry, but it's true. Your butt is… why are you lying on my cell phone?


Izzy: It's warm. Shut up. Anyway, whose fault is it that I'm so big? Bastet didn't make me like this!
Me: Ba-who now?
Izzy: The Cat Goddess. Daughter of the Sun-God. Protector of Us All. Obviously.
Me: ANYWAY, listen, we need to put you on a diet.
Izzy: Then get ready for THIS. Feel my paw batting at you in protest!
Me: Felt.
Izzy: This is all I ask.
Me: Well, this was a nice talk.
Izzy: Still planning to murder you! Some day! Paws crossed!