Today, the world met Meow, a two-year-old, 39lb 10oz cat who was turned over to the Santa Fe Humane Society by his elderly owner, who could no longer care for him.


To put in perspective, 39 pounds is:

More than 4 average sized bowling bowls.

Approximately four and a half gallons of milk.

As much as a 26 in flat screen tv.

The same as 6 red bricks.

Approximately the same weight as a four-year-old.

A glimpse into my train of thought on the matter:

What was she feeding him? Surely, his diet could not have been cost effective. Although, eating off the dollar menu at McDonalds is cheap and could cause a person to get fat. The vet said a 39lb cat is equivalent to a 600lb man. He looks like a fluffy pillow. I wonder if he likes to be snuggled. Aw, I bet it’s sad when he tries to wobble away. It’s sad that he has to wobble. I wonder what his favorite treats are. I love cupcakes. I wish I had a cupcake. I’m happy I’m not a 600lb man, though. How does a cat lose weight when it’s THAT overweight? Are you supposed to leash them up and take them out for a walk?  Why is his name Meow? That’s what we’re going with? Meow? Maybe he has low self-esteem because his owner didn’t love him enough to put any effort into choosing his name. Someone should change his name. He’s only two. Holy crap. How does a cat gain that much weight in two years? I bet his owner was so bummed when she had to turn him over. How come nobody in her life offered to take him in for her? That’s sad. If I die, I hope someone in my family takes our cats and dog.

I’m going to die.

(And, inevitably, this quote from my favorite movie, Love & Sex) “You’re all going to die. Think about that. You’re all going to die and nobody will ever remember you, because they’re all going to be dead too!”

(Around 42 seconds)

Aaaaaaand scene.