I have an extremely fat cat named Lexi. She is, hands down, the fattest cat I have ever actually seen in person. When Lexi moved to my son’s farm, I had no place to feed her separately from my other cats, so she went off her diet food and regained all of her lost weight, plus two pounds, taking her up to a whopping 22 pounds. I realized that I absolutely had to do something, because she could no longer groom herself and she was getting stuck in the extra-large Fat Cat door, a flap that swings back and forth in a frame inserted into the exterior door of the cat room. I searched online for an extra-wide cat door, but now Lexi has outgrown even that one. As a result of her weight gain, Lexi has become my office cat. (Formerly my nephew Dustin, the chef, stayed in that room, so putting Lexi in there was impossible. But now that Dustin lives elsewhere, his room is used as my office.) Well, my dogs, both cat haters, live in my house as well, so it is a balancing act at night. Lexi comes out of my office for social time, but I must do this with caution until my dogs grow accustomed to the idea that a cat has become a part of their household.
(A pic of Lexi on my sofa. This doesn’t really show how rotund she actually is. It is very difficult to lift her without hurting her. I put one hand on her chest and one of her bum, avoiding the basketball that is her tummy. She has now lost down to 20.8 pounds, which is a substantial loss if you consider percentage of body weight. I’m very proud of her.)
During the day, Lexi goes outside to be with her kitty friends and hopefully get some exercise. She has a nice, heated cat room out there where she can snuggle in a bed and snooze the day away, but it will be ideal if she loses more weight and begins to explore the farm. The problem is that only water can be available in the cat room during the day. If food is down, Lexi will eat it. All of it. She seems to be unable to tell when she is full. So every morning someone must go into the cat room, stow all the dry food somewhere, and pick up the treat bowls.
Each morning I must groom Lexi before putting her outside. (This translates to, “I must wash her bum, because she can no longer reach it.”) Believe it or not, Lexi seems to understand that a warm cloth on her bum means that it grooming time, and she tries to help. She grooms as far back as she can reach while I groom where she can’t reach. It is a team effort and her attempts to do her part are very cute.
She is a sweet kitty and has a darling personality. In the picture above, I believe a dog was in the living room, judging by her expression. Doesn’t it appear to you that she is thinking, “Come within my reach, fur ball. I dare ya.”
Reflections from the Ridge 