How the mighty have fallen…
Each weighing in around twenty-one pounds, their heft excelled only by their heart, our biggest-of-the-big guys were blossoming as they settled into Tabby’s Place. Not since the days of Sluggo had Tabby’s Place welcomed this much cat in a single serving.
It turns out that thin is decidedly not in among our adopters, and so Fred and Dino were welcomed into new homes faster than you can say “fried fries.” And, yes; rest assured we did our due diligence, encouraging adopters to do a team lift any time they hoisted their new honeys.
And so we are left to savor a single supersized sir, one Snoop Rosenberg.
All is well in our Jurassic gent’s kingdom, that wide, wondrous world known as Suite C. If this really is the Weight Management Suite, the managerial team is to be commended. Snoop, and many of his colossal compadres, have lost ounces.
But that’s not the big story here.
Feeling your worth can take awhile.
Although he looks like he eats warthogs for breakfast, Snoop is actually a shy, sweet, self-effacing kinda guy. When he looks in the mirror, he doesn’t see an 18-pound, devastatingly handsome black cat; he sees some combination of an underweight kitten and Rick Moranis.
This makes Snoop easy pickins’ for those who would pick on people. (I’m looking at you, Faye. Do you really have to mutter “fattyfattyfatpants” under your breath every time Snoop shlubs past you?)
But, as so often, a soft heart is both valiant and vulnerable. Snoop’s sensitive side may keep him bashful, but it also makes him beloved. Look no further than Snoop’s generously-sized cubby if you’re seeking to be slathered with love.
Just do sweet Snoop a favor mid-slather; remind him he’s a righteous rock of mighty might. One of these years, he’ll believe it.