Cart Before the Horse
This morning I was checking my email and trying to figure out why I hadn't received many blog comments lately.
Then I realized maybe it was because I hadn't posted in five days.
That'll do it.
Not much going on here except that it's been sort of an emotional rollercoaster week, which makes me feel more private and less entertaining, so not so much with the online writing.
* * *
The cat went into a depression from the diet. He stopped talking to me in the mornings. At one point he started sleeping on the couch. And then, last night, he stole a piece of toast off my dinner plate. That, my friends, is a desperate cat. (Yeah, toast — a slice of bread sort of heated until it's warm and crusty. Not even any butter or jam on it.)
Before you conclude that I'm some cruel overlord of food withholding, consider:
1. At no point in this diet has he actually ever had an empty dish. He just refuses to eat the last layer of food kibbles which line the bottom of the dish. Because he's lazy. Yeah. Ridiculous, isn't it?
2. The bag of food has remained on the floor near his dish where it always is. He's perfectly capable, as experience has shown, of turning the food bag sideways and digging into it if he's feeling motivated.
So, with that in mind, I'm convinced that he's relatively satisfied living off the biological energy reserves, so to speak, but is simply offended to the core of his being that I consider him fat enough to warrant dieting in the first place.
Then I realized maybe it was because I hadn't posted in five days.
That'll do it.
Not much going on here except that it's been sort of an emotional rollercoaster week, which makes me feel more private and less entertaining, so not so much with the online writing.
* * *
The cat went into a depression from the diet. He stopped talking to me in the mornings. At one point he started sleeping on the couch. And then, last night, he stole a piece of toast off my dinner plate. That, my friends, is a desperate cat. (Yeah, toast — a slice of bread sort of heated until it's warm and crusty. Not even any butter or jam on it.)
Before you conclude that I'm some cruel overlord of food withholding, consider:
1. At no point in this diet has he actually ever had an empty dish. He just refuses to eat the last layer of food kibbles which line the bottom of the dish. Because he's lazy. Yeah. Ridiculous, isn't it?
2. The bag of food has remained on the floor near his dish where it always is. He's perfectly capable, as experience has shown, of turning the food bag sideways and digging into it if he's feeling motivated.
So, with that in mind, I'm convinced that he's relatively satisfied living off the biological energy reserves, so to speak, but is simply offended to the core of his being that I consider him fat enough to warrant dieting in the first place.