THIS IS NOT I! I WOULD NEVER ALLOW A PHOTO OF ME ON THE NET IF I WERE THIS BIG!
I took mama’s hair in my teeth at crow fart this morning and pulled just a little right after I walked carefully (I do everything carefully, especially when it’s something bad) across her stomach putting all my weight down the way people do when you try to pick them to prove how strong you are, but you can’t lift them at all because they are STUCK to the ground, just stuck there and can’t be budged. That’s how I prance across mama and papa to get breakfast, as if I had on little lead boots. Then I nip a little but I get a very strong “no, NO, Loulou” because they are trying to discourage that, but this diet is making me pazza (that’s Italian for crazy), folle (that’s French for crazy) and why does a kitty 18 inches long from her cute little perfectly formed cranium to the beginning of her expressive silky tail and 18 inches around her TUMMY need a diet? Eighteen inches? Whoa….
Mama still can’t feel my ribs easily, and I weigh 5 kg 300 g which is 11.6 pounds, which, if we were in Rome, would be considered bona, the way Sophia Loren is bona or that other ancient actress, Louloubrigida, you remember her, right? Too much popcorn for this little kitty (popcorn being a 60s euphemism for too much weed, and I don’t mean the kind in the garden I chew on) and mama does NOT indulge me and has taken me off all dry food and only hands out little bits of wet, organic food. I chase a long string under the indestructible comforter with only the knotted end sticking out and I run from side to side on the big bed for hours while mama keeps hiding it (with great patience, I must say) and I pounce on one side and then I pounce again on the other and when I’m finished with this seemingly idiotic game, I leap off the bed and blast around the room like a crazed weasel and hide behind a curtain and then mama comes at me and I run like hell, just to give HER some exercise and then I’m bored. Such is life.
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