My busty beauty

obesity1

In a beauty contest, my cat would win Miss Congeniality. And that's not just because she's such a sweetheart. She's, ahem, a little plump. Four years ago, when our veterinarian first pointed out Ammie's portly proportions were more porcine than feline, we discussed a new diet. Until then, we thought we were doing enough to purchase a low-calorie grocery store brand. I guess that explains how our 10-pound cat quickly ballooned to nearly 15 pounds.

Our household includes two cats. The other is a perfect specimen:ideal weight, hates table scraps. Ammie, on the other hand, is a huge potato-chip fan. I can't blame her, but it's not exactly Weight Watchers.

On the good side, Ammie's a fairly active cat. She loves to fetch and she's an excellent mouser. Apparently the extra pounds she's packing don't hinder her ability to tackle her hapless prey. The bad news for me: She likes to knock her kills underneath the loveseat, so we do periodic mouse checks to discover any little carcasses that require disposal before the reek of death begins to waft up from the cushions.

So, the challenge is really that Ammie loves to eat. And eat. And eat. It's a favorite activity, second only to sleeping. Her prime time to chow down is usually about 3 a.m. Her bowl sits on my end table, and if we haven't stocked it with enough tasty kibble, she'll knock the bowl (and anything else on the table) onto the floor.

I'm convinced Ammie's a reincarnated physicist, because she particularly likes to study the properties of water and gravity. (She began exploring this area as a kitten when my husband was in law school. Her first effort was spectacular. She knocked a full cup of water onto the new laptop that held his first major term paper.) With this annoying hobby, she's trained me to keep a careful eye on the level of food in her bowl before bedding down for the night.

Today, both our cats are on veterinary-approved weight loss and maintenance diets, and over the years, we've constructed a plan to make sure each one eats the correct diet. We feed Chooka, our perfectly proportioned pussycat, on top of the dresser. Until six months ago, Ammie's weight prevented her from achieving this great height. We knew we'd reached a turning point when she mastered the leap from bed to dresser.

At each annual exam since our first discussion about her weight, we've celebrated little victories. She's lost between a half a pound and a scale-tipping 2 pounds every year. Now we still have a way to go. She's 12 pounds, and we won't be satisfied until she hits the 10 pounds her doctor recommends. But our friends notice her slimmer figure. In another year or two, she might just be ready for the bikini competition. Her formerly bulging belly is now simply a gangling gut that wobbles a bit as she speeds across the living room chasing after toy mice. And we're proud of our busty little beauty and her hunt for optimum health.