Anyway, the vet gave her an A+. No shit. See Exhibit A.
Really, the excitement in our home is the fact that the weight loss means Miss Stella can wash her own ass. Yep, you read that correctly.
Before, the poor girl just couldn't reach--I didn't know this was possible; I've seen some big kitties get in there good and take care of bidness. But as I watched Stella more closely, I realized that was indeed the issue. She would put one back paw up, stage a front one on the floor, and start to clean. Except she would really just end up spinning herself around on the floor and coming out with a clean knee. These were dark days in clean-cat-ass history.
|This is obviously not my cat; it's not spinning.|
And there's nothing worse than being woken up by a loving furry friend who kinda smells like bad cheese. I had a boss like that once, back in college. She smelled like bad cheese. She was also a big girl. I'm not sure that she spun herself around on the floor when trying to wipe, per se, but there were definitely some reaching issues.
I haven't had Stella for quite a year yet, and I initially thought her dirty bum was some holdover issue from all the abandonment she dealt with. You know how trying foster kids can be--you've seen this past season of Parenthood, right? But soon enough, you call them Lil Slugger. And they look up at you and call you Mom. Everyone ends up at the town hall, signing papers while laughing and crying about how good life is.
That is kind of how I feel about Stella's clean ass. I want to laugh and cry, all at the same time.