Has everyone seen the photos of Paris Hilton floating around the net today? The ones where she and her dog are both dressed up in leopard print ... articles of uhm. Well you can't call it clothing..
Anyway. Is this proof that people end up with pets who look like their owners? Because while Tigger doesn't look like any of us, thanks to the miracle of razors, some days she acts just like me.
At her last veterinary appointment, we were told she was overweight. We tried to argue that she was just big boned, but the Doc wasn't buying it. Too bad... I had a bridge to sell...
When we got home, still disgusted with the Quack* of a doctor we had seen, we started to notice that Tigger was now unable to hop up to the bed. Or the couch. or uhm. Her feet.
I was OK with it becuase her dragging belly meant that there was no longer any need for me to sweep.
Regardless, The Husband decided it was time to cut off the all you can eat kibble buffet.
We switched to feeding her the stinky wet stuff at twelve and twelve.
At about eleven, both AM and PM, Tigger starts crying and pacing and biting our ankles. I'm pretty sure she thinks she is going to starve to death if we didn't drop whatever the hell we insignificant humans might be doing and feed her dammit! By the time each 12:00 shows up on the clock I am ready to tape her mouth shut.
I laughed So. Hard. today at noon, when she ran full tilt into the pantry door as I tried to get it open to feed her. She tried to pretend nothing had happened by turning her back to me and licking her ass, But I saw. I SAW YOU TIGGER! You are a disgrace to the cat family. Always land on their feet my ass!
But I am pretty sure she was laughing at me just now when I smashed my nose bloody opening the fridge just now in search of chocolate.
Don't worry. I found the chocolate.
Labels: I'm Important Too