The Adventures of PadFoots & ToeBeans #019
APPARENTLY WE HAVE A FITNESS CENTER NOW
🐾 Further evidence that Big Human has no intention of doing any of this halfway. 🐾
I have been observing Big Human.
Again.
Not because I am sentimental.
There have simply been...
developments.
When Sarah arrived, I watched Big Human rearrange the household until one very opinionated kitten had acceptable bathroom facilities.
I assumed that was the end of it.
It was not.
We now have three bathrooms.
One regular litter box.
Two automatic litter boxes.
For cats.
I would like the record to reflect that I have personally used the ground for this purpose before.
It worked perfectly well.
Apparently we have progressed as a civilization.
Fine.
Then...
the wheel arrived.
We already had a cat wheel.
I knew this because I had seen it.
I had also made the perfectly reasonable decision never to get on it.
The wheel goes nowhere.
This is important.
One runs...
and remains in exactly the same location.
I fail to see how this constitutes transportation.
Nevertheless, Sarah is a Maine Coon.
And Big Human discovered that the existing wheel would eventually be too small for Sarah when Sarah becomes a full-sized Maine Coon.
Sarah is currently not a full-sized Maine Coon.
There is, in fact, no full-sized Maine Coon in this house.
Yet.
Still...
Big Human bought a GIANT CAT WHEEL.
It is enormous.
Lil Human can stand upright inside it.
I know this because Lil Human immediately saw it and reached the obvious conclusion:
“I am a cat now.”
No.
Big Human intervened.
Apparently, despite purchasing exercise equipment large enough to accommodate a preschooler, Big Human maintains that it is CAT PROPERTY.
I support this policy.
Not because I intend to use it.
I absolutely do not.
But property rights matter.
And then something happened that I was not prepared for.
Finan got on the wheel.
Finan.
Our Finan.
The gentleman in formal eveningwear who spends a significant portion of his life attached to Big Human's chest.
Finan began running.
And running.
And RUN-NING.
He just...
kept running.
(Forrest Gump reference for you Humans, so you understand fully the gravity of the situation.)
At first, I assumed he was going somewhere.
He was not.
Then I assumed he would eventually realize this.
He did not.
The wheel began turning faster.
And faster.
WHRRRRRRRRRRR—
I looked up.
Finan was still running.
WHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR—
Still Finan.
Still running.
Still in the exact same place.
I have never seen anyone put so much effort into accomplishing absolutely no change in geographic location.
At some point, the wheel stopped sounding like exercise equipment and began sounding like an aircraft preparing for departure.
I genuinely expected Finan to achieve lift.
He did not.
He just kept...
runnin'.
And runnin'.
And RUN-NING.
(Yes. Still Forrest Gump. I need you to understand what I am dealing with.)
I do not know what he is training for.
I do not know where he believes he is going.
But wherever it is...
Finan has apparently decided to run there.
And I must admit...
he is impressive.
I never expected to write that sentence.
Finan is an athlete.
No.
That is too far.
Strike that.
Finan believes he is an athlete.
And frankly, the amount of time he puts into maintaining this belief has become difficult not to respect.
Sarah uses the wheel too.
Naturally.
But Sarah does not train.
Sarah gets on.
Runs.
Stops.
Turns around.
Attacks something imaginary.
Runs the other direction.
Possibly hangs off the side.
Leaves.
Returns thirty seconds later.
She approaches exercise the same way she approaches everything else:
without a plan and at maximum enthusiasm.
Finan, however?
Finan has a program.
I sometimes sit nearby and watch him spool up.
Not because I am interested.
Because when something in your living room begins sounding like a Boeing preparing for takeoff, a responsible King investigates.
I have also been asked, through various forms of human encouragement, whether I would like to try the wheel.
No.
I would not.
I cannot make this clearer.
No.
I have spent years establishing a lifestyle in which food is brought to me and my preferred resting surfaces are strategically located throughout the kingdom.
I am not going to start running recreationally.
If I need to go somewhere...
I will go there.
That is how walking works.
Meanwhile, Big Human has continued upgrading the facilities.
We now have new bowls.
Individual bowls.
Color-coded bowls.
One for me.
One for Finan.
One for Sarah.
This is the kind of administrative organization I have been requesting for years.
My wet food is now served on the kitchen counter, safely above Padfoot jurisdiction.
Excellent decision.
Matilda cannot reach it.
Malachi cannot accidentally inhale it while passing through the room.
I can eat in peace.
There is, however, an issue.
Sarah gets more.
I noticed immediately.
I did not say anything.
But I noticed.
Big Human says Sarah is growing.
Apparently being a future enormous cat entitles one to increased rations in the present.
Interesting policy.
I am fully grown.
I have successfully maintained this body for quite some time.
Surely that deserves consideration.
Finan receives the same amount as I do.
This makes sense because Finan is not growing.
He is apparently training for the Olympics, but that is his personal decision.
Still...
Twice-daily wet food.
My own color-coded bowl.
Elevated Padfoot-free dining.
I cannot object too strongly.
And this is where I find myself in an uncomfortable position.
Because I have been watching Big Human.
When Sarah needed different bathroom arrangements...
Big Human figured it out.
When Finan couldn't tolerate certain litter...
Big Human figured it out.
When Sarah's stomach was unhappy...
Big Human figured it out.
When Big Human realized Sarah would someday become too large to exercise comfortably on the wheel we already owned...
she didn't wait.
She got her a bigger one.
An absurdly bigger one.
Sarah doesn't know why.
She just knows there is a giant wheel now.
Finan certainly doesn't know why.
He seems to believe Big Human has finally recognized his athletic potential and commissioned a private training facility.
And I...
Well.
I know why.
Big Human is planning ahead for them.
All of us, really.
Bathrooms.
Food.
Bowls.
Safe places to eat.
Places to sleep.
Things to climb.
Things to run on.
Even things we do not yet know we will need.
She watches.
She notices.
And then somehow...
it appears.
I suppose there are worse ways for a kingdom to be run.
...
Do not misunderstand me.
I remain ToeBean-in-Charge.
Big Human merely handles...
infrastructure.
Extremely well.
Actually...
exceptionally well.
I should probably tell her that.
I will not.
Instead, I shall sit nearby while Finan attempts to break the sound barrier in the living room.
WHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR—
There he goes.
Look at him.
Ridiculous.
His little legs are going as fast as they can.
He thinks he's magnificent.
...
Good for him.
Sarah is waiting for her turn.
Lil Human is standing nearby insisting she is also a cat.
Big Human is defending feline property rights.
Everyone has their own bowl.
The Padfoots cannot reach my dinner.
We have more bathrooms than some small businesses.
And somewhere in all of this, Big Human is probably researching something else she thinks we're going to need six months from now.
I have to give it to her.
She takes very good care of her cats.
...
That sentence is not to be repeated.
Now, regarding the wheel:
Absolutely not.
Never.
No.
I am the King.
Kings do not do cardio.