Seems the time has come once again for my *weigh-in* at the dreaded medical facility that shall remain nameless. Of course Waffles thinks it's a regular party there. A vacation.
Last I remember, there were no drinks with little umbrellas, no kitty loungers lined up in the sunshine.
Just a giant scale.
I remain optimistic that although my trip will be nothing like Waffles' excursions to this same destination, I will reign victorious over the mighty scale. After all, I've been on a strict workout regime and diet ever since Orange Crush arrived nearly 8 months ago. ...what with being chased all over the townhouse and having my food stolen right from under my nose. I'm pleased to report I'm as svelte as a ladycat a fraction of my age.
Still, he taunts me so. Just you wait, Waffles. One of these days you'll wake up to find your metabolism has bit you in your big, fluffy you-know-what. THEN we'll see who's doing the chasing.
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