Today, I have established that cats do not like coffee. That’s the scientific result of a brief survey of cats–uhm, cat–specifically, my cat… Well a quasi-psuedoscientific study, anyway. There’s not a lot of difference between the sound of a packet of instant coffee being opened, and the sound of a packet of cat treats being opened. Without fail, the cat comes running, and today… I gave in. He barely sniffed the coffee before he gave me that offended look. You wasted my time for this?

I’m falling short of my cat-owner duties. My one job was to provide on-demand cat treats, and not comment about his weight.

Or their weight, in the event that a second cat splits off from the first.

There are no cat treats.

There have not been any cat treats for a long time. (I suspect there were a lot of cat treats, before I inherited the cat.)

And I think… I hope, anyway… that the cat is getting skinnier. I feel like he’s more alert than he has been, in the past.

All kinds of feline health and happiness, coming up.

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