So I took Wee Fuzzy Bastard #1 (More formally known as Daniel) to the vet yesterday for a quick nail clip since experimentation has proven that the DIY method terrifies both of us, and his polydactyly doesn’t help, either – some very strange angles on his thumbs, there.
The usual plastic cat carrier seemed to have shrunk, so I had to wrestle him into a one-size-fits-all cardboard carrier from the Humane Society. Given that, I asked the nice tech if we could weigh WFB. And then I watched in growing bemusement as the weight on the old baby scale got clunked further…and further…and further over to the right.
It turns out WFB isn’t so wee after all.
Twelve pounds three ounces. And he’s barely six months old, to boot.
:eek: :eek: :eek:
Well, that certainly explains the carrier. (And yes, both our expressions looked like that at the time)
I still want to know how the hell he managed to shoot up to nearly double his weight in under two months – he was seven pounds when I took him to the vet last time. Definitely not fat he’s packing, either. And his sister (WFB#2) can’t be more than six or seven pounds soaking wet, which just adds to the overall shock.
Later discussion of this discovery led to the fact that apparently either mommy or daddy was a Maine Coon – he’s pretty much the spitting image of one, down to the nifty water-resistant coat.