Simon is mean to your cat.
All he does is comment on his size.
“Bloody animal doesn’t need treats.”
As if that’s his fault. It’s his fur! It’s a Maine Coon dammit has he just never seen one?!
“Are you listenin’ to me?”
“No.” You pout. “I’m not because all you do is call him names and call him chunky-“
“Well he is.” He pokes at the ‘tubby’ little thing as he sits just beside him on the couch. The cat lets out a small “mow” in reaction but that’s about it. “See? Fat.”
“He is not fat. All you did was poke him!”
“What would you call it then?” He challenges.
Without hesitation, you cross your arms, scooting away from your boyfriend. “He’s fluffy. Maybe plump.”
The silence is a little embarrassing.
“Tha’s the best you got?”
You scoff, standing to walk towards your precious baby. He preens, stretching out (and hilariously sticking his bum right in Simon’s direction. He had a deadpanned look for that.) and sitting to your attention.
Hand glide right to his sides and suddenly, ‘fwoof!’. He’s a skinny king.
Well…not unhealthy skinny. But he definitely wasn’t not fat!
“See?” You prove. “He’s fine. He’s got a good weight, good eye sights, and adorable little toe beans.”
Simon gives your cat a once over. His brows furrow when they spot something he just didn’t notice earlier.
“Does he have fuckin’ thumbs?”
“Stop making fun of my child!”
