Under direct orders from the Wild Beast Tamer we keep on retainer to deal with such things, we've put our hundred pound cat, Thunderpuss, on a diet. That rat bastard went as far as to outline the hidden costs associated with completely cutting the beast off from food altogether and simply letting her hunt; describing the woes of some poor fool who's critter went into full-on liver melt down from what I can only guess was a gross lack of protein and extreme build-up of uric acid in the veins. Having only asked how much to feed her, this extreme response was unsettling, but what did I expect - the man had only one eye and lost both of his feet to diabetes years ago.
Since then, we've cut her intake in half - down to 3 lbs of raw London broil a day, and only one neighborhood child a week as a lite snack. But it's not all peaches and cream... lately, she's been seen wandering aimlessly with a glazed look in her eye, smelling the air. She's looking for prey - just last night she pounced, came within inches of my face and nearly overtook me. I wouldn't have made it out alive if I hadn't conjured up a pure, dominant, alpha presence. Our poor dog doesn't stand a chance.
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