We had an exciting visitor a few weeks ago. The world-famous Iditarod Musher Karen Ramstead came to stay at my house. I was very excited to see her, despite that fact that she misspelled my name on an autograph picture of her and her team of Pretty Sled Dogs.
I was all set to let bygones be bygones until she sat me down and had a little talk with me about my fluffiness.
|You've let yourself go a bit, Meeshka|
Of course, she is absolutely right. I've been in a bit of a slump recently. I think it hit me when I turned 11 and realized that my dream of winning Westminster wasn't going to be, and for some reason my modeling career just didn't take off. I may have binged a bit in the past few years, not skittered as much as I should, and have pretty much allowed the suck-up Mutatoe to do most of the work around the house.
I even admit that I haven't even done a lot of Human Woman clawing, which is the mainstay of my exercise routine. Having a chance to sit down with Karen and discuss things, learning that just because you are getting a bit older, that doesn't mean you have to just let yourself go and be a fluffy blob.
I immediately demanded that the Human Woman feed me less, and give me more nutritional treats. I've been trying to get back into shape by sensible clawing and chasing the Human Woman. I've even restarted my morning routine of attacking her when she tries to snooze the alarm. I'm taking it slowly, I don't want to pull a muscle, but I think I'm back on track to getting my svelte girlie figure back.
Of course, before starting a new exercise routine, it's best to get to the vet and get a check-up to make sure I was ok to start my new routine. I have to admit that I wasn't too keen to get in the truck. The last time I got in the truck to the vet, they put me out, clipped my nails and cleaned my teeth. Then two weeks later I went back in and they ripped out my po-po... then when I went back they ripped out the po-po stitches. The vet and the truck ride are not my favorite thing right now.
One of the good things about being overweight is that when I refused to jump into the truck, the Human Woman couldn't pick me up.
Now, I know the routine, I go to the vet, they steal my blood and want some of my poo... so I kindly made a poo deposit right in front of the clinic. Hey, that's why they have the little bag container and trash bin right there... right? They want fresh, there's your fresh poo.
I got the usual poking, jabbed, nail clipping, and a finger up my po-po to make sure no oogie things were trying to grow back (there weren't any) and then back home we went. Apparently I get to have three of the tasty "creaky bones" that Spineless blah blah blah Sam gets because I'm getting older, but the vet gave me the OK to resume my clawing and skittering.
So, that's all good... and in other news, Mutatoe was attacked by a curtain and got his ample ass kicked yet again.