Recently Fatman began displaying some disturbing characteristics. He went from stuffing one bowl of food down his fat mouth to scarfing three bowls a day. At the same time he developed something that he's never been in possession of in the five years I have known him - he suddenly had a waist. And a figure. He started preening and sucking in his fat cheeks when he passed a mirror. My little fat cat had single-pawedly discovered some kind of miracle. He had found a way to triple the quantity of food he sucked down and yet lose weight.
And as he usually resembles a furry gut on legs, this was big news in the Hender/Fatman household.
Fascinated, I started to compliment him on his weight loss and dreamt of a future where we would write the new diet bestseller. He would teach me his secret and I too would be able to ingest vast quantities of food, while retaining my shiny coat and getting thinner every day.
No more obesity. We had found The Cure.
And then my friend mentioned that perhaps he had worms.
The next day, almost as if they had heard our conversation, up they came. Now Fatman is often sick. It's a cat thing. Fairly regularly they make a noise that sounds like they're being turned inside out against their will. It's an unholy, disturbing noise, sort of like they're choking, coughing and puking at the same time. Usually, after an awful lot of this out will pop some kind of revolting hairball and they go back to licking their bits.
So I didn't take much notice when the familiar noise started.
Some time later I thought I better go and deal with it. And was greeted with what looked like a pile of vermicelli in curry sauce.
Fatty had just barfed up his big diet cure.
One treatment and a few days later his ever-expanding football belly tells me that all is right with the world again.
And the only cure for being a fat cat is to cultivate a worm infestation. Probably more fun than the Dukan diet though. Might give it a whirl.