Meet your newest nightmare:

There exists in the world, a cat that is two years-old and weighs almost 40 POUNDS. FORTY POUNDS. FOUR ZERO POUNDS.

Truly, this is one of the most horrifying things I’ve ever seen in my life. I literally shuddered when I saw this monster. The cat’s name is Meow (yes, my eyes are still rolling). His 87 year-old owner turned him in to a Santa Fe animal shelter because she could no longer take care of him, which, no shit. Apparently she didn’t have anything else to feed Meow after she drained the entire lard supply of New Mexico.

This is disgusting and awful and is only worsened by the fact that I hate cats. I mean, I really really hate cats. I should mention that I’m allergic, which doesn’t help, but I’m pretty sure I’d hate them anyway. They’re rude and bougie and lazy and boring as hell. Why people choose to allow these creatures to occupy their homes is something I will never understand.

Meow is equivalent to a 600 pound man. Think about that for a second. Our society does not need this! We do not need morbidly obese cats. I, especially, for my peace of mind, do not need to know that the feline equivalent of Gilbert Grape’s mom is lurking around. Look, I’m not saying I want this cat to die. All I’m saying is, I’m not so sure that one less cat in the world would be the worst thing to ever happen.



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