Crisis: I Gained a Pound

Not that it bothers me in the least, but the humans are on the warpath. They’ve taken extreme measures, so that I don’t get to eat as much as I want anymore. This is as good a definition of “crisis” as I can imagine.

“Haha! The tall ones feed me whenever I ask.”

First, I apologize for the lack of a blog post last week. Since the comic was out on Sunday, I decided to take a break and be lazy. Now, though, I have a topic of the utmost importance: my mistreatment at the hands of my staff.

It’s their fault that I gained weight in the first place. I was actually losing weight, but since my blood work showed I was slightly anemic, they decided to force-feed me. I didn’t object. For weeks, there were always kibbles available for me to scarf down, and they would give me wet food two or three times a day. I could even eat from Butterscotch’s bowl downstairs. It was a fantastic period in time, a shining beacon on which I will look back fondly and miserably for the rest of my life.

Scrounging for every last bit of food

Why is that? Because, on my most recent visit to the vet, the balance said I weighed over 15 pounds. At first, I thought getting man-handled for a blood draw was the most awful thing to happen that day, but I was oh so wrong. Thanks to that additional pound, I now have to starve most of the day. We’re back to the old schedule, which means I no longer have unlimited access to food. I am being punished for the humans’ mistake. Not to mention the fat-shaming.

And to make things worse, I am already super hungry (one might say hangry) in the morning since the time change last month. It’s one cruelty piled on top of another. I’m like a mouse that a cat let escape only to catch it again seconds later. I feel your pain, little furry friend. Before long, I’ll be a scrawny, tiny critter, just like you.

I am disappointed in you

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