My cat Pablo is a voluptuous boy. His primordial pouch, originally thought to protect cats’ squishy insides, hangs low and wobbles to and fro. Once, when he was five or six, a vet sternly sat my spouse and me down, gravely stating, “He’s simply too young to be this fat.”
Pablo didn’t care, but we were traumatized. Now that he’s 10, the vets have repeatedly scolded us. All 20 pounds of his rotundity, they say, cannot continue. The specter of diabetes and…
