Anything Lime

I Feel Like the Mother of the Fattest Kid on the Playground

Today was Kya’s annual wellness exam at the vet. Everything was good: heartworm negative, good teeth, lovely coat, the works. She was a very brave girl. She let them cut her nails, take her blood and she even let them squirt her Bordetella vaccine into her nose. I would say that overall, this was a successful trip to the vet, except that she weighed 105 lbs. That’s at least 10 lbs heavier than she was at this time last year. Big girl.

I know what you’re thinking, “Aww, that’s cute, your puppy is growing up.” Yes, that is cute, except that she’s not a puppy. She’s almost four. She’s mature and full grown and should not be weighing 105 lbs.

I don’t know quite how this happened. She goes to the park once a week, we take long walks together a couple times a day, she only eats about half of what a dog her size should be getting, so wtf? Why is it that she manages to gain weight? No, she’s not very active, and yes, she’ll sleep in longer than me most days if we let her. But now the problem is, I have a fat dog and I have to carry around the stigma of being the menace to society who owns a fat dog. From this point forward I’ll be known as the girl who overfeeds and underexercises her fat fatty fat dog. No fair.

The doctor said her problem might be related to her thyroid (the equivalant of the human excuse “my problem is glandular”). So we’re going to switch to (gasp) weight management food for a while and see whether a bit more exercise makes a difference. If not, I guess we’ll have her tested for canine diabetes. In the mean time, I’ll be the one frequenting the dog park with the pet who won’t run, but would rather lie down in the dirt while the other, less obese dogs run and play.


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