Of course I’m grateful to the two cats next door (Maggie and Parker) for the tube of brown goo -very tasty thank you.  But, they are just too rowdy.  All night that Maggie was chasing leaves that blew past their window – newsflash Maggie -they’re on the OUTSIDE, therefore you’ll never catch them.  Parker thinks he’s something special too.  O.K. He’s handsome, slim (not that slim matters right?), he has a gorgeous coat and markings oh and the BEST eyes, he’s very athletic too, but that doesn’t mean he rules the joint.  He swaggers past my room like Casanova, stopping to groom imaginary ruffles in his coat when he’s right by my door – oh give me a break Parker – hand over the kibble and might consider an encounter!

So, the trio – Maggie, Parker and Muffin brought this tube of brown goo.  I don’t want to get her into trouble, but Shirley left the top off.  I squeezed gently with one paw and sampled the strange contents.  Well, I couldn’t help myself from stamping up and down in frenzy with all four paws and finishing off the remainder.  It splattered everywhere but of course I haven’t left a trace.  What a delight.  I’d forgotten what gorging was all about.  Who knows what it is but let’s just say ‘things’ are moving along very nicely thank you very much.  Also, I have a feeling I won’t be bothered by hairballs for the next six months.  Sweet justice - Shirley’s clueless .

‘Lady’ arrived this morning.  No, she’s not a Golden Retriever, I know -who’d call a cat ‘Lady’?  Anyway, she gave me the most ‘knowing’ look from her top shelf.  What could this mean?  Did she have a message from the other side?  Did she have kibble stashed under her armpits?  I had to find out.  Well, during her ‘time out’ of her room she shoved this note under my door: “PATCHES, START AN EX-FAT CHAPTER - WE NEED YOU AS A ROLE MODEL”  She had a point - I’m famous therefore I could seriously influence the naive and ignorant AND my PAC donations would go through the roof.  But, do I share the ‘ex-fat’ philosophy?  Is being fat a choice?  Did I nurture those pounds or are they natural?  Nobody warned me about being fat so I shouldn’t blame myself and if I WANT to be thin I CAN be thin. Let me think.  Hmm.  Nope, I’m fat.  I like being fat.  When I’m fat, I’m being myself.  I know that now I could ‘pass’ as thin but come on we all know that I’m just denying who I really am.  So, no Golden Retarded Cat - start your own ex-fat chapter!  I’m going to pig out on a piece of kibble.

Now, about the rabble that moved in yesterday. They’re only here for a week but you should see the stuff they brought – everyone else here has had to breathe in. Maggie and Parker are in the next room to me. She’s a right little madam - lounging in the window like a hussy on one of their four beds and chasing the feather toy with zero inhibitions. Parker is a bit more demure – he chases the feather toy then pretends he hasn’t. Then there’s Muffin. She’s got her own room down the way. Let’s say she looks ’seasoned’ and is absolutely disgusted with Maggie and Parker’s playfulness. Anyway, I’m exhausted just watching them – I’m going for a lay down.

Believers, it’s true, I’m officially THIN - 17.75lbs.  I was a big old fat 21 pounder when I arrived here.  I’m ahead of schedule for my weight loss program and Doctor Feleciano thinks I’m the greatest - she think Shirley’s not bad too .

What a disturbing morning! This gang of cats showed up today with an entourage – who do they think they are???  A U-Haul of stuff arrived with them – beds, blankets, and more importantly what looked to be a pallet of food (okay – so, I’m dreaming, but anything more than the tidbits I’m feed looks like a buffet).  The list of special requests – you’d think that Britney Spears girl was checking in…  This could work to my advantage – Shirley may be distracted with all of the special requests and I can dig into their food supply to supplement the morsels I’m tossed.  Stay tuned…

My new skinnyness will be formally celebrated tomorrow, my weigh-in will happen at Parkway – fans keep back, form orderly queues for autographs.  I know you’re all eagerly awaiting the exact poundage but please be patient.  I would stake my next six dinners (Yes – I know that’s not very much food) on having lost at least 2-3lbs.  Call me optimistic, call me Patches but tomorrow you can all call me Twiggy.

News of the year - I was sprung from this place by Mom . Happy, happy, happy day. Then I came back the very next day . Yes, you see one of my people; Grant, was sick and all he wanted in the whole world was to snuggle with me all day. I was the only thing that was going to make him feel better. My fur, my purrs, my snores (I woke him up twice). So I was ripped from my window shelf at the Fat Farm just to please him. I suppose it was nice to be home for a night - I looked at my food silo high on the counter where I couldn’t reach it, I was petted relentlessly, no one ever touches me here, and I indulged a little - thanks for all those treats Grant (a touch of dire rear the next day but it was worth it). I also felt measurably thinner at home. The usual places where I would knock things over with my girth were left untouched. The nasty cat from our neighborhood took one look at my buffness and had second thoughts about attacking me. Yes, I’m a new cat. A thinner cat. Not yet a thin cat but I’m ready for my next weigh in.

Don’t look now, but there’s a 30 pounder in the room across the hall. Of course I have no evidence of his exact weight, I’m just guessing based on the space on either side of him when he walks through his door. Actually, he may be 35lbs. Anyway, his Dad requested that he be ‘free fed’ and that Shirley make sure he has food available overnight. Mom, are you listening? Of course Shirley obliges but she’s killing him with her kindness. Brother, go see Doctor Feleciano, she’ll put you on the right track. You’ll be back here faster than you can eat 10lbs of full fat cat food. Of course, once you get back here you’ll think you’ve had your throat cut, that you’ve been disowned, that you’ve got no friends and that the world is out to get you, but you’ll be well on your way to THIN. In the meantime, shove some of that mound of food under my door won’t you fatso?

No sign of that Shirley here all weekend (I heard some mention of Bonneville Resort and Spa). Anyway, a very nice lady; Victoria, was in charge of us all here at the Cat Retreat. Doctor Feleciano rang and dropped my kcal/day to 250 (from 340.26). Sheer torture. I must use up 200 kcals just getting over to my food bowl. My small, almost always empty food bowl. Plus, I thought Shirley’s exercise regimen for me was strict, until I met Victoria. I was relentlessly galloped around the garden and breezeway by this woman. I almost escaped over by the raspberries but that chick’s faster than she looks. This softly spoken, trim, gentle and otherwise lovely lady has a stern side to her that I hope you never meet. She took photo documentation of my pain. Come back Shirley.