Sticking my nose in someone else's business...

I was rash. I was impetuous. I was...being myself.

It happened early, say, around 2:30 a.m. No moon. I dashed outside, surprised an intruder, and, BAM! something stuck me in the eye. Claw? Thorn? I don't know. I stumbled up the stairs and basically blacked out for the rest of the night.

I woke up late the next a.m., late enough to worry my folks. I tottered downstairs, one eye barely open, the other swollen and totally closed.

Stoic as always, I decided not to disclose exactly what happened.

Off we went to VCA Westboro, where, fortunately, my personal staff was on duty. Unfortunately, they knew all of my evasions and other tricks. While I uncharacteristically cowered in a corner, rather than throwing myself at the door to the lobby, three of my friends debated the best way to get me to the scale.

They tried luring me into that dreaded back room. I would not budge.
"Lead him in the cat way," one said. No dice.
"Try the staff entrance," suggested another. No way.

Now, I went along willingly enough just last month. The result: 93 lbs, and I can say with all honesty that it's mostly muscle. Plus, I wear it well.

In any case, another weigh-in was absolutely out of the question. So those 93 lbs. stayed put.

Being a practical woman and a very astute reader of the situation, Dr. Dalamangas decided to treat me right there, in the exam room. Mom got to help when things got dicey.

I threw myself at the door while Mom attempted to sign for my treatment, backing off at the sight of an enormous Akita trying to enter. Realizing I was in no mood to take on that beast, too, Mom signaled to the owner to back off, which she kindly did.

Turns out the enormous Akita was no bigger than I: had we gone mano a mano, I would have won. Even with one eye closed.