Preface: One of the very best things about Cat Scouts are the noms. We have them in our Wolverine Patrol Den, at our Worldwide Wildcat Troop Headquarters, and of course, at the Campfire! Some of the scouts are gourmet chefs! And now each of our Patrols has a Grubmaster to make sure we are well- and healthily-fed so as to be ready for any and all competitions. I do not hold that position in my Patrol. I’ll admit that I much prefer eating the noms to preparing them. This is not to say that I over-indulge. Whomever has been spreading such a rumor is just jealous ’cause my girlfriend is the prettiest girl in all of Cat Scouts.
Anyway, I have faced some ridicule at home the last few weeks. My sisfurs and Mom say that I am becoming portly. Mom claims that I have not eaten my breakfast on a few occasions, which has led her to the conclusion that I have been chowing down at Campfire every evening. I swear I have no recollection of either event. I always eat my breakfast and any other cat’s I can wrap my lips around. So I absolutely have no room for Hello Kitty donuts, birthday cake, hot chocolate, bacon or any of the other less healthful fare available. I only drink cucumber water provided by Sushi or have an occasional cup of nip tea.
In some lame attempt to prove she is correct, my ridiculous excuse for a mom, bought this shirt for me (which is at least two sizes too small) and enrolled me in Gold’s Gym Feline Fitness Program. I bet you didn’t even know there was such a thing. Well, neither did I, and I am outraged that this prestigious company would stoop so low as to pander to the whims of our feline pawrents by instituting such an unneeded program. I know that I get all the exercise I need wrestling with C.J. before every meal and chasing the red dot around the house, not to mention the hiking at Cat Scouts.
And, I honestly don’t know when she expects me to find time to pawticipate in such silliness. I am Assistant Leader of the Worldwide Wildcats, and I am Scribe, Cheermaster and Birthdaymaster for the Wolverines Patrol. Those all are serious responsibilities and take up oodles of my waking hours and even some hours when I rightfully should be enjoying a restorative snooze. Additonally, I have my pawsome, sweet and loving girlfriend, Allie, with whom I already don’t get to spend enough quality time.
She says that I must be a part of this foolish feline fitness routine until this shirt (which I’m pretty sure was actually designed to be worn by some shivering dog) fits. Rude…just plain rude and totally unrealistic! For COD’s sake, she bought a size small. That is a huge blow to my ego. I am the man-cat of the family after all. This thing might fit Astrid, Misty May or Lily Olivia, but they are all minuscule lady-cats! Well, I am sorry, but I must cut this short as I am off to Campfire to see what’s cooking for lunch. If I have to be a part of this fitness regimen, I must keep up my strength!
Purrs and paw-pats, Mauricio