T. GAMBLE: Pets fighting battle of the bulge

According to CBS news, whose believability rating is now just slightly behind any information provided by Aunt Bertha obtained from the hair salon, America’s obesity rating continues to climb to astronomical levels.

I have to admit, I’m doing my part to make sure we stay in the top 10, if not outright No. 1.

I can’t stand to lose at anything.

But this newest report is not about the average American human, also more commonly known as the hippopotamuses of the human race. No, this report says our pets, too, are now grossly overweight.

Dr. Kirk Breuninger, a veterinary researcher involved in a study by Banfield Pet Hospital, says, “One out of three cats and dogs are overweight.”

At my household, we are batting a clean 1.000, as my four dogs and one cat are all one step away from buying a scooter car from Piggly Wiggly just so they can motor on to the food bowl three times a day and then beg for people food the rest of the time. Oh, and sleep 23 hours a day.

For the life of me, I can’t figure out why they are so fat.

Dr. Breuninger blames this epidemic on lack of exercise (check), too much food (check) and a changing attitude toward our pets. By changing attitude, he means we now treat them like family members, so I guess we want them to be good and fat like the rest of the family. He says our pets will now have heart disease and type 2 diabetes.

Next thing you know, they will begin to get fliers from AARP and forget where they left their keys.

Back in the day, my Aunt Florence who was — how can I say this politely? — a big-boned woman — and I do mean big boned — would tell my Uncle Archie, “Archie, you look like you don’t feel too well. You better eat some more of those biscuits and those potatoes.”

Aunt Florence thought eating would cure anything known to man, even though if Uncle Archie had gained five more pounds we would have had to rent a forklift to move him from room to room.

They both lived to be about 90, so take that Richard Simmons.

Pets back then did not get special food from the grocery aisle. There was no Science Diet or organic food. Nope, they got whatever scraps were left over.

Life was not very good for Aunt Florence’s dog, I’m afraid. We called him Slim Jim.

They also did not stay inside. Period. It could be sleeting rain and 12 below, and they stayed outside.

But times they have a-changed.

My dogs sleep with me and eat more steak per capita than I do. They can’t be bothered to chase the mailman or even a squirrel. They are too busy sleeping and begging for more cheese, the crack cocaine of the canine world.

The good doctor says to stop the epidemic they must be walked more often and cut out all those snacks. My poor dogs and cats. I’m so sorry. “Fathead, you don’t look too good. Here eat some more cheese and here is a little piece of pork chop, too.”

Aunt Florence would be so proud.

Email columnist T. Gamble at [email protected].