Chunky Monkey

Meet Charlie. A 7 year old, short-haired domestic Tabby cat. Also goes by Chuckles and Chunky Monkey.

Things he likes to do:

Wake you up at 4 AM.

Plan world domination.

Angry revenge pee on things you love.

Snuggle into your neck so you are never angry at him.

Eat. A lot. Like a lot, a lot.

Charlie is obese. He is 19 pounds of chunk. And if he were a large cat like our Frank, it wouldn’t be a concern, but he isn’t. He has dainty little paws, a small head and a short body and a rather rotund middle area.

Charlie had to go on a diet. We are talking extreme weight loss plan for my buddy boy. Instead of eating as he wished, which was apparently more than his share, it will be half a cup split twice a day of his weight loss food. And then he can get wet food which isn’t the problem.

I want to feed them in separate areas so they all get the food they need. My spouse believes this is too much trouble and wants some other way to handle it. This is the way to handle it. Although I found a rather pricey feeding bowl that only opens to the specific tagged cat. An option. An expensive option.

My poor chunky writing buddy isn’t going to like this one bit, but we need him down to his target weight. For now we are aiming for 12 and then see how he is doing. Then possibly more from there.

On the way to the vet he peed on me. They said he had no urine in him for the test. I offered my pants for a sample but they declined. On the way home, he peed on me. So much for no urine. Now I have to set up a box empty of litter, add a wee sprinkle of fake litter and isolate him so he can pee in it. Then empty that into the sample bottle they gave me. All because Chuckles decided to pee on me instead. However, I don’t blame him. Car rides outside in the big world… terrifying. And the vet? Terrifying. Poor guy was traumatized. And when he was home he didn’t even revenge pee for the trial I had made him endure, but perhaps that was because he was peed out.

For now, he is snuggling in my lap while I am editing and that is all good. Tomorrow? The yowls for food begin.