Otis Is a Big Boy

A confirmed Dog Guy learns to love his fat cat

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Otis the Cat is too fat to fit on the windowsill. It’s his favorite thing, or has been. As recently as Monday, 51 percent of him fit on the sill; the other 49 percent oozed down the wall. Then the percentages reversed and gravity did the rest. Sill-sitting is out for the O-Man. A diet is required. It won’t happen, certainly not if we tell him he needs it. It’d have to be his decision. I mean, he is a cat.

I love the cat. Up until six or so years ago, I’d assumed that’d be among the last phrases I’d ever speak, right there with “We should spend more money.’’ Cats were too aloof, too distant, too solo. Acquiring a pet can be transactional. If I’m gonna pay for food and a roof over its head, as well as pitch it the occasional bit o’ grilled salmon, it’s gonna pretend it enjoys my presence.