Katie's Vet Visit - Weighing Heavy On Her Mind

Hi everyone, Katie here.

I know you've all been waiting to hear about my recent visit to the evil Vet. I had a distemper booster with a giant needle. Not that I need to boost my temper any. Waffles Too already has THAT covered. I was wrapped in a towel like a burrito. Then without warning...JAB. So much for this *party* at the Vet Clinic Waffles Too has been bragging about.

Then came the dreaded weigh-in. I've been starving for MONTHS, what with Glogirly's crazy quest to help me trim down to the girlish figure of my youth. Compound that with all the meals the orange brat has STOLEN right from under my nose. I'm lucky I have the strength to walk.

Wha...What???

Seriously?  I've got to take a second look.

Oh. My. Cod. There IS a Cod. I've lost a whole pound. That's 16 ounces! That's over a third of what the orange monster weighed when he first came home to the Townhouse. Well I know how I can lose even more. *taps paw to chin and visualizes Waffles Too in a suitcase* 

 Wha? What?? There's MORE???

I've been cleared for MORE food. Not just any food, mind you. Glogirly's been given explicit instructions to give me dreamy, creamy, CANNED food. EVERYDAY. Turns out she's been UNDER-feeding me. Can you believe it?

Why I oughta... I heard the whole thing. There's no way she's getting out of this now.

I just have to figure out how to keep Waffles' sticky paws off my gooey goodness.

This ought to work.

The FACTS, Jack:
November 2012, 12.4 pounds
March 2013, 11.4 pounds
Approximately 1 more pound to go.
Bring on the ooey gooey gravy. Yeah, baby.






Ok, at the risk of sounding like a broken record...

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Dis Temper Of Mine

Hi everyone, Katie here.

You are probably wondering why I've been incommunicado for the past few days. Laying low. Well if you stopped by my Facebook Fan Page, you may have gotten wind of the latest. It's not good.

Not good at all.

You see, last week Glogirly brought me to the V-E-T. That's right, the V-E-T. And not just any V-E-T. This V-E-T in apparently went to the same School of V-E-T that Fin's V-E-T went to. The Crackpot School of V-E-T.

Had I known what was in store, I would have put up a much stronger fight when Glogirly forced me into my plaid carrier. I don't care how cute and fashionable it is. I don't care that it matches her pretty red car or my pretty red chair. It's a wolf in sheep's clothing I tell you. Nothing more than a V-E-T transport system.

She even had the audacity to put Green Frog in with me. Now he stinks of V-E-T and I can't touch him.

So I had two gigantic shots. One was for rabies. So much for my theory that rabies is a dog's disease. And the second was for my temper. NEWS FLASH: A shot is NOT going to help dis temper of mine.

After the two horrific needle incidents the Crackpot V-E-T began using a word no cat wants to hear. DIET. No, not diet as in, "Hey! Let's Eat!!" We're talking diet as in "Food Deprivation." "Weight Loss." "EXERCISE." Apparently my svelte 9 pounds has turned into a tubby 10-plus. If I don't lose the weight, then we're talking low carb. LOW CARB? I bet you any amount of nip that my tasty gingivitis food is anything but low carb.

Just as we were getting ready to leave, the Crackpot V-E-T had the nerve to compliment me on my teeth. I've been doing such a good job crunching on my high fat, high calorie gingivitis food that I no longer have gingivitis. Well that's a fine how-do-you-do.

I can't win.