Dolly’s new nickname is Butterball. Kat’s christening. She sure hasn’t lost any weight lately. Dolly, that is, not Kat.

I’ve tried many times to capture the actual size of Dolly’s current girth, but the camera doesn’t really do a good job of it. I figured that the only way to accurately show how large she’s gotten is with stereoscopic images. That way, one can actually tell how much Dolly is coming off the couch with a bit of depth perception. It’s never easy to take stereoscopic pictures of a cat. Usually they’ll move or twitch when the alternating photo is being taken, so it almost always has to be done while they’re asleep. Even a twitch of the camera strap, or a shuffling of feet will be enough to pique the curiosity of a cat

Dolly’s head looks small in comparison to the rest of her body, but her head is actually normal for a cat her age, and it’s her pot belly that’s grown out of proportion. Every time someone comes over, I usually get a comment on how much she’s grown. Outward.

There once was a kitten who enjoyed sleeping in a little wicker basket on the top shelf of my desk. I bought her a green pillow that had a removable case, and stuffed it in the wicker basket so she would be more comfortable. She was very happy in there, with her birds-eye view of the entire room, and would spend hours upon hours in the lofty enclosure.

Soon, however, she noticed that the basket was getting smaller. It got harder and harder for her to jump in without knocking other things over. Eventually, she stopped sleeping in there altogether, as she outgrew the basket and wouldn’t fit in its sheltering walls.

Eventually, I moved the pillow to my bed, without the wicker basket, and the cat, no longer a kitten, resumed her naps there. The pillow, on the other hand, remained the same size, and no longer supports the sheer girth of the once tiny feline. However, she continues to enjoy sleeping on it, and has no problem accomodating for space restrictions with an uncushioned limb or two.

In the mornings, Dolly will wake up from my alarm. When it rings, whether she’s on my legs, on her pillow, on my neck, or against the wall, she’ll walk to the foot of the bed and stare at the door. At night, she’s usually in my room by the time I go to bed. I think she’s finally been able to adapt to my schedule because it’s the first time I’ve been able to consistently go to bed and wake up for more two months.