Flashes of Panic

Some months ago, while pointing out that Iz was overweight, a vet suggested we buy him a particular kind of toy. One puts dry food inside the toy, and it comes out bit by bit as the toy rolls around. The idea, I think, was to give Iz a little bit of exercise with his dinner, since he’s already on a pretty restricted diet. (When you consider how much a cat sleeps, it’s a wonder he sees the need to eat at all.)

We finally found such a toy the other week, and started loading a portion of his dinner into it every night. He took a while to figure out the ball contained food, but once he did, he leapt right over the “toy” function and zoomed right in on the “food” function. He figured out that if, instead of chasing it in hot pursuit from room to room, he just nudged it slowly around the kitchen floor, it would dispense food fairly reliably. So now he paces slowly behind it, like a bloodhound on a faint trail, pausing briefly every few steps to gobble up the kibbles that come out. The exercise value has to be pretty close to nil. In effect, he has hacked the system to get the most food for the least effort.

At least it keeps him from scarfing down his entire dinner in one sitting. And he hasn’t yet solved the optimization problem of getting his breakfast at the earliest possible moment, either.

Now Playing: I Know What I’m Here For from Getting Away With It…Live (Disc 1) by James