Jelly Weigh-in

This morning I decided it was time to weigh Jelly. I've been trying to get her to lose weight. It's not easy to get one cat to lose weight when you've got two, because it's difficult to separate food bowls when they both have free reign of the house. Plus, Jelly will eat anything.

So first I weighed myself. Then, I picked up Jelly and weighed both of us. The good news is that I lost half a pound. The bad news is that Jelly found it.

Arrgh. She's up to sixteen pounds! Last time I weighed her she was 15.5, which was bad enough. But 16 is over the top, especially considering she supposedly weighed 13.5 when I first adopted her (at least, that's what her paperwork indicates). I've got to do something more to help her lose weight.

I keep trying to give her less food and have cut way back on letting her lick the yogurt lid. But then she cries with her squeaky little voice to get me to put something in her empty bowl. It's pathetic. And pretty hard to resist. I feel like such a bad "mom" watching her cry next to her empty bowl. Then I feel like a worse mom for giving in.

The key is to get a job and get out of the house. Then I won't have any temptation to give in to her protests. This is the most demanding cat I've ever met! Lovable, yes. That's the problem. It's too hard to resist that chubby little jellicle face, especially when it's backed by the most pathetic squeaks imaginable. Trust me, the squeaking is a killer. You've got to hear it to believe it.

Even as I type this, she is reaching her little white paws up to the armrest of my chair, looking me straight in the eye, and squeaking with unbearable desperation. When I get up out of my chair, she gallops to her empty bowl, her belly paunch swishing from side to side. I put a small amount of kibble in her bowl. She chomps it down like there's no tomorrow. The bowl is clean within seconds. Sigh. . . . I'll try again tomorrow.