Belle's progress

Belle in Daddy's pants

At tonight's weigh-in, Belle has lost 1/2 pound! Not bad for the first two weeks. I was afraid being on a diet would make her cranky--it certainly does me--but she has actually been more playful and active than she has in a long time. That bodes well for future weight loss.

Belle's fitness regimen

Belle, my 4-year-old Katrina kitty, has become too rotund to properly clean herself, just like Otis at his maximum weight of 23 pounds. Like my love for chocolate, her love for shrimp may be her downfall. She's now at 16 pounds, when the vet had said at 13 pounds that she shouldn't gain any more. Knowing from sad experience what a health risk it is to let her get so big, I've decided to start her on a weight-loss regimen similar to the one I devised for Otis. It's based on the same formula I use for myself--eat less, exercise more.

So......a few days ago I started feeding her only half a cup of her Iams weight control food morning and evening, instead of just leaving dry food out all the time. To be sure the other cats get enough to eat, I put a bowl for them on top of a bookcase, where they can get at it but Belle can't because she's too fat to climb up there. When she gets fit enough to get to that bowl, then she'll deserve to have it! They all get about 1/2 can of Friskies wet food around 6 p.m.

The second part of the plan is to take her out for walks on a leash as weather permits. She's already been out twice, and was beside herself with excitement. She just purred and purred, sniffed everything, and after getting over some initial timidity, she walked all over the yard, even jumping up on a tree stump--although it took her a couple of tries! I need to get her a larger harness, as this one won't expand enough to fit comfortably. We've also added extra playtime with her favorite toys to get her running and jumping. She seems to really enjoy the extra attention, too.

We'll try this for a few weeks and see how it goes. Cats shouldn't lose weight too quickly--just like humans--so a slow but steady loss is what we're going for. Before long, she'll have her girlish figure back, and Daddy will have to stop calling her "Orca" and "Shrimpboat"!

His, mine and ours

Happy news! My fiance, Bobby, and I finally tied the knot Saturday, May 30, and just got back from our honeymoon in Memphis. Bobby is a blues musician--and a barbecue fanatic--thus his decision to surprise me with a honeymoon on Beale Street. We had a great time, and are now back home with our combined family of seven cats.
His two are L'il Bit, a tiny Siamese who's nearly 12, and Fiona, a huge long-haired torti we rescued as a tiny kitten from the crawlspace of a student apartment near his old apartment a year and a half ago.


Since they and Bobby moved into my house, we are keeping Bit and Fiona in the spare bedroom, where they have all their favorite things from their old home. They are getting acquainted with my five kitties by sniffing and pawing under the door. There is much hissing and growling coming from the bedroom, and my cats want so much to go in and see what's making that noise. I've done lots of reading on how to integrate new cats into a multicat household; hopefully all that research will pay off with a peaceful transition for everyone.

Waiting in a hot car with a gassy cat

No pictures of this, thank goodness! Sir Thomas went to the vet today for a checkup and shots. Because he's a stray, the staff asked me to wait with him outside until they got a room ready, and we would be ushered right in. That's understandable, since there's no way of knowing what he might have and they don't want to run the risk of infecting other cats who may be in the waiting room.

Of course all the shady parking spots were taken, so we had to sit in the car in the hot sun with the air conditioner running. Still, it would get a bit warm after a while, so I'd crack the driver's side window a few inches every few minutes to let in some fresh air. Sir Thomas stood on my lap and tried to squeeze himself through the crack in an attempt to escape (he was very unhappy in the carrier and since we had to wait so long, I let him come out until it was time to go inside).

Since he's been eating regular meals, of prepared cat food instead of fresh kill, his little tummy has just bloated up and he's had terrible gas. (The vet did assure me that this would pass--pardon the pun--as he got used to his new diet.) So I'm sitting in this hot car with the sun beating down, and a cat standing on my lap farting frequently. It seemed like forever before a vet tech came out and got us. I'm not sure whether Sir Thomas or I was more relieved!