the object of my affection

well truly, that would have to be my cat, scruples. she is an overweight, short-tempered, lazy, complaining bitch and i love her incredibly. i willingly let her scratch and bite me (i say it's out of love, but we all know the truth here) and i'm not entirely convinced she isn't spending her days planning my demise while she pretends to be "sleeping." she's sitting here right now, on the off chance that i'm going to forget that i already fed her for the day and maybe put a bit more kibble into her plastic green bowl.

she wasn't always on the brink of having feline metabolic syndrome. in fact, when i first got her from lollipop farms, she was quite underweight, at just under 9 pounds. the vet said i should just feed her as much as she wants, partially to get her more comfortable in my house and partially so she would be less worried about where her next meal would come from. well she stopped worrying a long time ago and by the time i took scruples back to the vet about two months ago, she had gained over 6 pounds. that's right, she weighed in at exactly 15 pounds. this was enough of a weight gain for the vet tech to sit me down and explain to me how grave a situation i had created for scruples.

but never fear, i understood the situation and faithfully cut her back to 2/3 cup per day. and scruples has not forgiven me since. she wakes me up at 3:40 if i let her roam freely about the house and at 5:50 now that i've banished her to the downstairs at night. i wake up every morning to the sound of her little paws scraping against my pocket door, squealing over the injustices of hunger i have sentenced her to. when i finally come downstairs to relieve her aching belly (which incidentally nearly touches the floor as she strolls about the house) she turns her back on me, leading me straight to the aforementioned green bowl, hoping against hope that i'll fill it up even more this time.

i know what it's like to be hungry and i don't want my little devil cat to feel those pangs. but it's for the best. for her, for me, for her hip joints...but it sure does make me guilty when i eat. inevitably, i eat more than her and as i'm preparing something for myself and i look down at her huge eyes filled with curiosity and maybe some jealousy, i feel i have to justify my eating habits to her. i tell her that i just went for a run or played frisbee for two hours or that i'm just plain bigger than her and thus need more sustenance. i don't know if she understands and accepts my gluttony or if she just adds it to the long list of reasons to take me down when i least expect it.