Yesterday, Adam and I took both cats and the dog to the vet. Just a wellness checkup and updating their shots, nothing crazy. It was the first time that we brought Beatrix to the vet and she didn’t pee on the floor. She’s not a fear pee-er, or a no-reason pee-er. Bea is an excitement pee-er. If you make her happy, too happy, she cannot help herself and her happiness ends up getting on your shoes. She is the only dog I know that loves the vet. Granted, the nice ladies at the vet talk to her in high pitch voices and pet the living hell out of her and let her smell their crotches sometimes, so she thinks they are just great. Every other time we have gone to the vet, Bea has left an arc of pee on the floor around her, sprayed from her overzealously wagging lower half. Yesterday, no pee. My baby is growing up. Sniffsnort.
All three of the animals got weighed. I already have mentioned that Bitsa eats all the food. Last year, we were told Bitsa needed to lose a few, and we tried doing scheduled feedings, leaving the food out for 15 minutes, then putting it away until the next meal. The cats went on a hunger strike and I felt like a horrible mom, gave in, and told myself Bitsa was just carrying some extra fur. The vet informed us yesterday that both of my cats are now fat asses. And that we should be feeding them about half of what we are feeding them. And I felt the judginess. Oh, the judginess.
Then, we found out Bea is also a fat ass. I had noticed that she looked kind of like a melted version of herself when she laid down, but I had always thought she looked normal standing up, and standing-up skinny is the skinny that I go by. Wrong again. Awful pet mom. Judgey eyes were on me.
Our only concern we had brought to the vet was that both the cats had a lot of dandruffy stuff on their lower backs, and I thought it was dry skin and wanted to put some oily stuff in their food to make them pretty and properly moisturized. The cherry on my fat-pet, bad-mom sundae came when the vet told me that the cats didn’t have dry skin, they were just too fat to bend enough to groom that area anymore.
We went home, and I ate some Ben & Jerry’s S’mores ice cream and three popsicles for dinner.