My Fat Cat

My house had its first dinner party. The guests enjoyed fresh corn chowder, beautiful salad, delicious wines and between the chewing and sipping, came to the conclusion that my cat is fat. Understandably I was hurt and argued that the pendulous paunch swinging beneath his haunches was merely a characteristic of the breed. They chuckled, mistaking my defensive retort for charming humor.

When a snow storm hit later that night I wanted to show the remaining guests a special trick my cat can do. His gift can only be matched by circus dogs and people... the ability to wear a T-shirt and forget he's wearing it. The T-shirt of choice is a gift from my brother and sister-in-law who cat sat for me over the holidays. I squeezed the "Paws and Claws Country Club" cotton over the cat's head and shoved his paws through the arm holes. When the material hit his expanded mid section I glanced up at my friends in embarrassment. By golly, they were right. Refusing to admit it, I rolled the T-shirt over the bulges of fur and fat until my cat resembled a giant black, white and green sausage

We all laughed. The cat glared. The next day he went on a diet. I support his choice.