Guy-gantor

This week I am feeding my neighbours cats. It always seems to coincide with The Husband being away or when I'm already snowed under, and to be honest - with already having to look after my own 3 feline beasts, I do feel like the Spondon Cat Lady. So off I pootle twice daily, with the Skids in tow ready to wreak some havoc in new territory. The Cats - Tom, Guy, and J - usually like to leave me small gifts when they know I'm on duty. Sometimes a headless and skinned mouse, sometimes a bird with it's guts on show. Yesterday, however, I was greeted by about 15 piles of sick. It looked like they'd either a) all decided to synchronise gut flu, or b) one of them had developed cat bulimia. Judging by the size of all of them, it is entirely possible that one has simply become too ashamed of their colossal frames and decided enough is enough. This is Guy - the biggest.

Guy has tried and failed many diets, and I'm sure will now spend the rest of his days looking like an overstuffed beanbag on legs. Considering he is so massive, he is suprisingly sprightly and comes flying across the garden and through the catflap (yes, he can get through) at breakneck speed when he hears movement in the kitchen.
It is with some shame that I admit one of our cats is getting to be a fair old size. His idea of exercise is yawning and venturing 3 steps outside to take a crap. Rather than being put-out when the new kitten arrived home, he was merely delighted at the thought of an extra trough to feed from.  As much as we do try to move the little zeppelin out the way while the other cats eat, he continues to get bigger. I'm beginning to think he must be microwaving himself meals in the middle of the night..