- By: Sally Morrison-Griffiths
It all started with a trip to the vet. My friend Nancy and I hauled my two cats down to the surgery where they were thoroughly examined. I was proud of their behaviour. Nancy and the vet got into a “vetty” type conversation (her father is a vet) while I was left to ponder the devastating diagnosis. I tried to make it sink in. How could this be? Nancy and the vet were laughing and chatting as if everything was fine. How could they be so cruel and unfeeling? I had to interrupt them, “Erm, excuse me. What do you mean, obese? What about the abdominal distension?”
The vet looked at me with sadness in his eyes, “You mean the fat?”
“But … they hardly eat a thing. They're just fluffy. With big bones.”
“They are obese. Fat. Too heavy. You should know better as a medical student.