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what must be on fat boy’s mind…

Posted in Crazy Wisdom on Monday, June 28, 2004 at 6:27 pm by flerly.

To the group: Hello, my name is Samuel, and I am secretly a pig in cat’s clothing.

Seriously. This cat is round. Granted, he’s skinnier than he used to be, but I’m sure that’s only because we absolutely starve him to death… or so he would have you believe.

First of all, he’s smart. Samuel, aka fatboy, aka shamu, will let you know what he wants. I need to go outside. Gotta go! Gotta got! You! Person who can use that annoying doorknob! Follow me to the door! Let me out! This way! You! Yes you! Allow me to jump on you to get your attention! That didn’t work? Well, allow me to scratch something up here by the door. That’s better! Come over! Let me out! — You open the door for him, and he stares up at you as if going outside was the last thing on his mind. — Oh really… outside? Do you think? Perhaps I will. He sniffs the air outside, makes a half-stand up movement toward the door, and usually ends up with someones foot gently helping him make his decision to go out.

He does the same for food. We have a dry cat-food dispenser. It holds probably 5 cups of cat food, which fat boy and Kitty can go through easily in a day, often less, at their leisure. This, however, doesn’t stop him from running frantically into the kitchen whenever he hears someone there, to give him his best wide-eyed can’t you see I’m withering away face, as he stretches his paws up toward the countertops in an attempt to reach whatever it is you’re cooking for yourself. He is happy to get your attention and lead you to the pantry (where the big bag-o-dry food is stored) in case you might have forgotten. He’s also willing to walk you over to the food dispenser, which usually is full. What’s his problem? Well, he just wants a lovely snack. Something other than dry food, please. A little something? Like say, a can of tuna or some other canned cat food? And, of course, these little treats are no sooner eaten than they are forgotten and he is begging for another.

So, this evening, with the usual frantic desperation in his eyes, Samuel will not leave me alone to prepare dinner. I know I’ve filled the dry-food once today. I also know Jimmy gave him a can of food around lunchtime. But, finally I follow him over to the cat bowls and see that the dry-food is empty. Good heavens, can’t I see him actually withering away before my eyes?!? So, I stop to dump a cup of dry cat food into the dispenser. I rinse my hands quickly, open the fridge, grab a stick of butter, close the fridge and already Samuel is seated lazily on a kitchen chair licking himself in post-dinner satisfaction, his food devoured with lightning speed.

Before Jim came back from Japan, we almost had him weened off of begging for canned food everyday, but that habit is back full force. Jim blames the practice on the soft-hearted Magoo, who used to spoil Sam with tuna, but he usually blames her as he while he is opening a can, and keeping up the habit himself.

Whoop.. gotta go. It seems Sam might want outside.


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