Since his rescue from the tree seven months ago, Edward has been unable to develop any ability to self-regulate, food wise and is consequently teetering on the brink of obesity.
In human motherhood terms, having a chunky child is (quite ridiculously) considered by some to be a punishable offence and can even lead to the child being taken away and placed with (one can only assume) Gillian Mckeith-esque Foster parents for immediate slimming. Fortunately, the RSPCA doesn’t exercise similar philosophies for those of us with furry fatties, but to say that the vet has started to get on my case about reducing Edward’s rolls is quite the understatement.
I had been taking the vet’s advice about measuring out his portions ever since his flab started slopping over the edge of her scales, but Edward’s problem wasn’t so much the portion size of his kibble as it was the stuff he was stealing on the side!
Since his adoption, I have been woken up in the middle of the night six or seven times by the sound of Edward swinging a bag of bread around the living room in an attempt to burst open the plastic wrapper. He has been caught face-down in the pans and trying to lick bits off used dinner plates on the sideboard numerous times. He is particularly fond of corn on the cob and when I shut him out of the kitchen one evening in an attempt to preserve this side-dish until the main meal had been cooked, he decided to launch his way in through the kitchen window, resulting in Edward smashing fat arse-first into the flower pots and the consequent death of several plants.
During my recent trip abroad, and given the highly sensitive nature of both of my moggies, not to mention Edward’s obesity, I decided to employ a cat sitter to make sure that they were both well looked after.
Finding a good sitter is no mean feat and finding a sitter who shares your exact same parenting philosophies is nigh on impossible. There’s nothing worse than getting home after a romantic night out only to find your kids jacked up and twitching after a night of scary films, fizzy drinks and popcorn. And it’s no different for cat parents. We were lucky enough to find a mostly great sitter, the only down side was that it was evident upon our return that Edward had managed to psychologically manipulate her into giving him extra portions of food.
I know exactly how he does this: Cue wide-open eyes and tales of his former life as an emaciated stray, surviving a wet winter by rooting through garbage cans and dragging scraps of food back to his tree, I just hoped she might be able to resist. She wasn’t.
We know this because although we returned to an immaculate house and two, completely chilled out and happy kitties, Edward’s at best, lumpy, physique was now almost completely circular. So excessive were his rolls that he was even sporting what can only be described as a mangina.
Needless to say, the weight is coming off quickly. It seems that we got here just in the nick of time to prevent Edward’s complete transformation from cute chubby kitty to full-blown slug.