The cat is basically fine.
The cat has gotten fat enough that the vet wants him to lose weight. I can cope with that. It will be a hassle, since the vet's approach involves a special diet cat food, and sharply limiting treats of our food.
What I wasn't coping well with was that the vet couldn't or wouldn't just cut to the chase, in terms of why, medically, this matters. He went on at length about human obesity, and talked about his own diet, and the like.
Then, on the way out of the room, he mentioned, reasonably, that a cat can lose too much weight on this stuff (or on refusing it, because cats can be particular) and therefore suggested either bringing him in to be weighed when we pick up more of the special food, or getting a scale and weighing him at home. We are not getting a scale. I reiterated that, and![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cattitude agreed.
So we get back to the reception area, and explain that the vet wants them to sell us a small bag of this food. And the receptionist said something like "She's retaining water." And I lost it. I said no, he's fat. If he was retaining water, the doctor would have prescribed a diuretic. She said something about being polite, and I was blinking back tears, and don't recall what else I said except that it included the word "fucking." I pulled myself together, signed the credit card slip, and asked for the bathroom (which I would have anyway, I realized I wanted it before we actually saw the vet).
I had thought I was a bit calmer on these issues. I realized, while we were outside waiting for the cab, that the whole "everyone should diet stuff" was bad enough, but the last straw had been the euphemisms, with the idea that "fat" wasn't a medical issue, but something shameful enough that it cannot be referred to explicitly even when talking about a pet, who doesn't understand any of the words.
But we got home, and Cattitude hugged me and is making us lunch. I have upset myself again writing this, but I wanted to get it down.
The cat has gotten fat enough that the vet wants him to lose weight. I can cope with that. It will be a hassle, since the vet's approach involves a special diet cat food, and sharply limiting treats of our food.
What I wasn't coping well with was that the vet couldn't or wouldn't just cut to the chase, in terms of why, medically, this matters. He went on at length about human obesity, and talked about his own diet, and the like.
Then, on the way out of the room, he mentioned, reasonably, that a cat can lose too much weight on this stuff (or on refusing it, because cats can be particular) and therefore suggested either bringing him in to be weighed when we pick up more of the special food, or getting a scale and weighing him at home. We are not getting a scale. I reiterated that, and
cattitude agreed. So we get back to the reception area, and explain that the vet wants them to sell us a small bag of this food. And the receptionist said something like "She's retaining water." And I lost it. I said no, he's fat. If he was retaining water, the doctor would have prescribed a diuretic. She said something about being polite, and I was blinking back tears, and don't recall what else I said except that it included the word "fucking." I pulled myself together, signed the credit card slip, and asked for the bathroom (which I would have anyway, I realized I wanted it before we actually saw the vet).
I had thought I was a bit calmer on these issues. I realized, while we were outside waiting for the cab, that the whole "everyone should diet stuff" was bad enough, but the last straw had been the euphemisms, with the idea that "fat" wasn't a medical issue, but something shameful enough that it cannot be referred to explicitly even when talking about a pet, who doesn't understand any of the words.
But we got home, and Cattitude hugged me and is making us lunch. I have upset myself again writing this, but I wanted to get it down.
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I am just very glad