What the heck can I eat?!

So, Ketut asked what I eat. I started to reply to her very kind words to the last post. It seemed more appropriate here, because I'll have more room to, well, spread out.

Way back in 2005, I fell head over tail for a weight management food, which is high carb, as we know now. Maybe it's because I was depressed (my brother and I had just been abandoned). Maybe it's because we had to live with new cats (four of them!!!). Maybe it's because it was so darned tasty. Whatever the reason, I was hooked. It's sad, now that I think about it. I got up in the morning, ready at the bowl. The girls filled it, never knowing they were feeding the monkey that climbed on my back.

Fast forward to 2007. In two years, I gained more than 10 pounds! They tried moving the bowl up higher, I just learned to climb up onto the table.

But you know all of this (or you'll scroll back to the beginning of this blog and catch up).

Now I'm on "kitty atkins." I eat roughly three ounces of high-fat, high-protein moist food originally developed for diabetic cats. We all eat moist food three times a day. In the morning, Jess mixes in about a 1/4 tsp of fiber with my food because I'm a little, erm, bound up. Everyone else gets all-day access to a high-protein kibble called Innova Evo. At night, Marlene will give me a 1/4 cup of the kibble in my own little bowl. The monkey isn't happy. The monkey wants a bigger bowl.

Sometimes I'll stand next to my small bowl and stare up to the counter where I know, I just know, the big bowl of kibble is sitting. I look at Jess, then at the empty bowl, then back at the counter. If that doesn't work, I'll put my paw in the empty bowl. "Please, sir, can I have some more?" I'm not proud of it, but it works. One of them will cave and give me a little handful. (Jess says it's a "happy handful." I'm not sure what she means, but it makes me happy.)

That's what I eat. Or what they give me to eat. If I had thumbs...

mmmmm carbs, oooohhhhhhhh

When I first moved into my new house, I was introduced to something called "weight management" food. I gathered that one of my new roommates had packed on the pounds in his earlier years, so now everyone was eating this stuff.

This is quality food, don't worry. They use good ingredients, for the most part. But they also use corn, wheat, soy, and rice. Have you ever seen a cat eat corn? Ever wondered if he should make the switch to whole grain? Would you offer a cat tofu?

Let's be honest, here. I have sharp little teeth designed to rend flesh from bone. Open a cow's mouth or, heck, open your own. See those big, flat molars? Those are designed for grinding grain. Now look in my mouth (ok, that's not my mouth). Pointy, vicious little renders!

I need meat. Meat, meat, meat. And sometimes grass. But mostly meat. And bone. And fat. I don't need chips, bread, or pasta.

But I do love them so. That's my problem. I love carbs. Jess has this big tub of food she gives to the stray cats outside. It looks like kids cereal! Everytime she opens it, I can smell all the corn. I stare at the tub, hoping a nugget or two will bounce to the floor. Oh, sweet temptation!

Everyone in the house now eats a high protein dry food that contains no grain at all. It's good and crunchy, but not nearly as satisfying. I like it and I ask for it as much as possible (I don't always get it, but I ask).

Hi, my name is Mosby, and I'm a carb addict.

My name is Mosby. I'm 8 years old and I've always been a big guy. Even when I was young and fit I was tall and hefty. I didn't have to work at it, I just played with my brother and did the stuff you do when you're young. And I ate whatever they put in front of me!

I was comfortable and happy in my home, even when they had me and my brother declawed (I'll get to that in another post). Then, seven years into what I thought was a great relationship, my world turned upside down.

My people, the ones who raised us and loved us, abandoned us. We found ourselves homeless and living in rescue (better than the shelter, yes, but still not home). By then, I was up to 18 pounds. I was hefty, but I could still play and get around easily. But this, this upheaval, left me shattered. Like many of you, I turned to food.

Food made me happy. Food made me feel better. Food didn't go away. So I ate.

We went into a foster home with loving people and interesting roommates. There was always food there, too. This time it was "weight management" food. Great! I thought. It's light! I can eat as much as I want! So I ate. A lot.

Before my foster family knew it, I'd packed on nine pounds! They moved the wonderful food so I had to climb to get it. I climbed. I ate. I ate a lot more.

The nice foster people adopted me and my brother after a year. They're wonderful, kind, gentle, and really care about us. They're very worried about me. I don't move around well. I breathe heavy. I'm constipated. They tried other foods, but what I really want is kibble. They're nice, they give me a few pieces with every bowl of moist food. But my wonderful food, my constant companion, is out of reach.

I'm on a diet, kids. I'm not happy about it. But I really have no say. We went to the doctor, ran all kinds of tests. More on that in the next post.