The Biggest Loser

Hello, JDamn! Fans -

It's me, JDamn. If you're a true fan, you've read my earlier post about my asthma. Yes. I have asthma. Thanks to Fritz the Brave, Moms realized that my recent sitting up and hacking moments weren't a failed attempt to get a furball up -- they were actually mild asthma attacks. So now, instead of cheering, "You can get that furball up, John! Go, John, Go!," Moms and Dads freak out and cry.

I think Moms freaked out more than Dads did, because Moms went to work late so that I (and only I) could make a special trip to see Dr. Vickie at the v-e-t-'-s office. Archy was "excused" and got to stay home all by himself. I do not know why he was so "special." Moms kept telling me that I was "special" too, but I somehow think it was in a different, more poking-and-prodding type of way.

So I put on my brave pants (ok, I didn't - I tried to get under the bed but Moms pulled me out at the last moment) and went to Dr. Vickie's house. When I got to go on her "table," I thought it was nice for one second. Then I realized it was steel instead of wooden--and there was no tablecloth. So I went right back in my crate. Unfortunately, the crate could be opened from the top and the side -- so both Moms and Dr. Vickie could touch me from a variety of directions.

When Dr. Vickie came in, I put on a show. I hissed. I growled. But I still let her give me a kitten massage (I growled only when she stopped) and clean my ears with a fantastically long q-tip (that felt damn good, too). But they couldn't get me out of that crate, until Dr. Vickie asked if I could go have some "alone time" with her. I couldn't believe it when MOMS SAID YES. Dr. Vickie told Moms that she got me out of the crate and held me in a funny position and took three vials of blood from my kitten thigh and that I'm so chubby that I didn't even know I got poked. She also said I was "all talk" and didn't swat or bite at all. What really happened was that I was a swatting ninja and they were so scared of me that they couldn't even touch me. They just told Moms that they got my blood but, in fact, they put some Kool-Ade and water in vials and called it a day.

After all this, Moms keeps talking to Dr. Vickie. The words "DIET" and "PRESCRIPTION KIBBLES" keep getting repeated over and over. Then Dr. Vickie gave Moms some more of my prednisone and we were free to go. But we stayed in the lobby. Then this giant bag of Hill's Prescription W/D kibbles (W = weight loss, no clue what D is) showed up. And then, Dr. Vickie had the nerve to come out in the lobby, in front of everyone (ok, we were alone, but still), and say, "Let's get John's baseline weight." BASELINE WEIGHT. To not traumatize me any further, they kept me in the carrier and weighed me with it. With the carrier, which they estimated at 1 lb. (I think it's really more like 10 pounds), I weighed 24.3 lbs. There was a lady in the weighing room, holding her cat, waiting to see Dr. Vickie. When we left the room, the lady hugged her cat and said, "You're so skinny and pretty, Cat. You're so skinny and pretty." In my heart, I hold a little bit of hate for that woman.

So. Both Archy and I are now unwilling contestants on The Biggest Loser. Moms said she'll be Bob (because she likes Yoga) and Dads will be Jillian (because she's a bad ass). I don't know which one of us each has chosen but I hope I get Moms because I already do yoga in my sleep.

At least the prescription kibbles are yummy. Archy and I gobbled them all up last night for supper. Moms says to check back here to check my weight progress; the goal is for me to lose three pounds in two months. Instead, why don't you just say that I've already lost 10 pounds from that one bowl of kibble and the diet is over? Tell everyone. I'll be a miracle cat.

Mwah!
From JDamn!