Recently I began to notice a change in my cats’ normal behavior with one another. Both of the cats are from a farm, born from the same litter and obtained in a hasty and possibly shady fashion after our previous cat passed away.
My sister and I were given the task of choosing and naming the kittens. The smaller one was, very originally, named Socks. My cat was named Rascle, with the letters in that order. I was far too stubborn as a child to admit that I made a spelling error.
I wanted it spelled that way. He was special that way.
Being brothers, there were no tricky introductions to go through when you normally introduce two cats to each other. For years they have lived happily and problem free.
As they grew older they became fatter, a little less social, and slightly neurotic. As far as I was concerned, this was all normal behavior for two strictly indoor housecats. It was around this transition from kitten to cat that I noticed Rascle was gaining weight.
I’m not going to lie to you, they were never small cats to begin with. I always chose to blame it on the fact that they were barn cats, and they had to be born big and burly. It was survival of the fittest out there. But somewhere deep inside I knew that they were just lazy cats who probably were fed more than they needed. I chose to give them the benefit of the doubt. They were big boned.
Unfortunately, my theory was crushed when I decided that only Rascle was gaining weight. Socks was always a runt compared to his brother, but there was no mistaking the rolls that started to appear around Rascle’s middle, and the extra chins he started developing versus his healthy looking, slim brother.
My cat was fat.
But there was something unsettling about his sudden weight gain. We hadn’t switched foods, or even altered the amount they were getting. They both got a scoop each, twice a day at designated times. But I reasoned that they were simply getting older and they weren’t as active as they used to be.
To combat this problem, I lowered the amount of Purina they were getting each day.
This was not a good plan.
Their sudden decrease in food started an uproar among them: a cat revolution. Most of the revolting was on Rascle’s part, and Socks was an innocent bystander on the side who occasionally cheered for his team. But I stood my ground. I wouldn’t fall prey to the constant crying and neediness they exhibited.
I was strong.
They finally decided that I wasn’t going to increase their food again. Their efforts were futile, and had been for nothing. This angered them. I'm sure they still hold a grudge to this day.
It was at this time that I noticed the change.
Not only was Rascle (still) gaining weight, but Socks had begun to shed the few extra pounds he had. He was withering away. I naively assumed that it was stress. Around this time we recently acquired a dog. It turned Socks’ whole world upside down. They still don’t get along to this day.
Pebbles the dog seemed to get satisfaction of the highest degree out of chasing the poor cat. It could have been the recently added exercise to his life that was causing him to shed the pounds.
Right? Wrong.
He continued losing weight, and Socks was as neurotic and frantic as ever. It appeared as if he spent his entire life in fear, peering around every corner and walking in stealth.
I told myself it was the dog. The dog just enjoyed torturing the poor cat, so he must have been on the lookout. Wrong again. I came to the harrowing realization one day that it wasn’t my dog that Socks was living in fear of. It was his very own brother.
I was engaging socks in a game of “shoelace.” He was on my bed, and Rascle had settled all 30lbs of himself in the corner and was looking miserable as usual. Socks, however, was having a wonderful time. The game had gotten to a particularly exciting point when Rascle stood up. Now, it’s a rare occurance when Rascle sits up after a long period of not moving. It’s just not in his nature. But he sat up and delivered the most mean-spirited wallop to Sock’s face that I have ever seen.
He returned to his indented corner on the mattress as if nothing had ever happened.
Socks, however, seemed horrified. It was as if the shoelace I was holding was the epitome of fear itself. Fear. He wouldn’t play with me any longer. I deliberately tried to annoy him with the shoelace, hoping he’d act out of anger. He didn’t.
This brought me to my epiphany.
I decided to test my theory by removing one of the food bowls out of the two they’re normally offered, and I filled it with the usual amount of goodies at feeding time. Socks tried to advance.
He tried very hard.
But a swift beating had him waiting at the edge of the window ledge while Rascle devoured 90% of what was in the bowl, leaving soggy crumbs behind for Socks. He waited until Rascle was gone until he even thought about eating it. Thinking wasn’t allowed in his presence.
What I thought was, indeed, true. Rascle was gaining weight, and Socks was losing what little body mass he had left, because Rascle had beat him into submission. Rascle ate first, and that was final.
I began to notice other subtle changes after I discovered the cause of their weight problems.
Rascle entered a room first. Socks was walloped if he even a whisker crossed the threshold.
Rascle had first choice of bowls. If he wasn’t satisfied with his own when he was through, it was time for Socks to move over.
Rascle decided what sort of play was and wasn’t acceptable in his presence.
Around this realization, Socks began to cry whenever he was faced with the most trivial problem. He cried, and cried, and cried until his tiny little voicebox was sore. This was to the greatest annoyance of my family.
In the end, I decided not to get mad at him for crying at us all night long. I thought that he was probably just telling us how horrible his life is, and how he probably didn’t eat that day.
Today, they’re still in the worst sort of bromance. I occasionally find nails hanging off of Socks’ face and he still struggles with losing weight, as Rascle struggles with gaining it. But after a few years of trying, I’ve given up. They’re going to stay in their abusive relationship until one of them dies.
Now it’s only a matter of whether it will be an obesity or stress related death. Bets anyone?
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