WARNING: This is an entire post about my cat's digestive problems. Click away now if squeamish, pregnant, and/or eating.
You all know that Leia is the best cat I've ever had. She's sweet and friendly and doesn't wake you up in the middle of the night begging for food.
She is the puking-est cat I have ever owned in my life. I could probably count on one hand the total number of times that all previous cats in my life combined have vomited.
Leia, on the other hand, has thrown up approximately 100 times in the last week.
Okay, slight exaggeration. She's probably thrown up about 6 times in the last week. Generous cat that she is, Leia recognizes that even God rested one day a week, and that the Resolve carpet cleaner should be afforded the same luxury.
At this point you might be wondering if I have sought medical attention for Leia's digestive problems. (Okay, in fairness, nobody is wondering that. Everybody is just wondering why on earth somebody would waste a portion of the Internet on a post about a cat's puking problems. And the answer is, I'm trying to post every day, people. It's hard to think of topics.)
Anyway, yes, I did take Leia to the vet about this problem a couple of years ago. And if you think my hypochondria is just limited to my own medical problems, or just the problems of other humans in my family, think again. I was fairly convinced that the vet would tell me that Leia had stomach cancer or some other terminal illness, and I had already envisioned our tearful goodbye before having her put to sleep.
In actuality, the problem was that Leia was too fat. The vet showed me an x-ray of a normal cat, and then an x-ray of Leia. He pointed out how Leia's pockets of fat were compressing her abdomen such that her internal organs were all rearranged and smashed. Essentially, her fat was pushing on her stomach and making the food come back out.
I was supposed to put Leia on a diet. Like my own dieting efforts, I was only marginally successful with Leia's weight-loss plan.
And so, the cat keeps on puking. Bill has become so frustrated with her that he has started to refer to her as "your cat" in conversations with me.
After the most recent incident, I suggested maybe we start feeding Leia a different kind of food.
"Maybe dog food," suggested Nathan.
It's worth a shot.