You Can Tell It’s A Cat By The Way That It Is

My friend is watching my Maine Coon while I’m out of town for a few weeks, sometimes staying the night so the cat isn’t alone. The cat is on a vet-approved diet to lose a few pounds, so no kitty treats, only a measured amount of food. One night, [Friend] calls me via video chat.

Me: “Hey, what’s up?”

Friend: “Your cat is a fat b*****d.”

Me: “Yes. And?”

Friend: “I decided to get a rotisserie chicken for dinner here tonight and your cat was sitting by the table, watching me eat it. He kept trying to reach up and steal a piece and I kept pushing him back down. I told him he wasn’t allowed and he got very upset.”

Me: “Yes, he’s horribly neglected and wasting away. I know; he tells me all the time.”

Friend: “I went to the garage to get a beer from the fridge out there and I came back and saw this.”

He turns the camera to see an empty plate on the table.

Me: “Oh, no.”

He shows me the tell-tale trail leading off the table, across the kitchen, and into the living room, and then stops on my cat trying to drag the chicken under a recliner. Unfortunately, the chair is too low for my huge cat and his prey, so he resorts to trying to pick the carcass clean, grumbling, and making eye contact with [Friend].

Friend: “He won’t let me take it.”

Me: *Laughing* “I’m so sorry. I’ll send you money for another one.”

Friend: “Oh, no, I was pretty much done with it. I’m just showing you what a greedy brat you’ve raised.”

I did send money anyway, both for the chicken and to cover the carpet cleaning. Eventually, [Friend] did wrestle the chicken away, though he paid with his skin. And, if you’re wondering, my cat is almost to his appropriate weight.