Rockford is up and out of the house well before I’m awake most days, and Marsha has been using that to her advantage. She would meeeee-oooooowwwww her whiniest meow at Rockford until he fed her. Then he’d leave, and she’d scarf down a bowl full of kibble. Then she’d wait until I woke up and meeeeeee-ooooooowwwww again. And I’d refill her bowl. And then, before bed, she’d do it again. And we’d fill her bowl again, because we’re rubes and she’s a carny.
I feel pretty dumb for falling for her tricks, particularly since I knew what she was up to. But fell for it we did, and so we have no one to blame but ourselves for our once-sleek feline’s expansion.
According to the cat food bag, Marsha should be getting no more than three-quarters of a cup of kibble a day. She’s been getting double or triple that daily for several months now. So it’s diet time for Marsha.
I made a chart to hang in the bathroom (where Marsha’s food bowl is), and whomever is the first to feed Marsha checks the day off. And that’s it for the day. She’s not pleased. She keeps making mad, desperate dashes for the food bowl every time I glance down the hallway.
I can’t believe I just wrote a whole post about our fat cat.