In recent weeks I’ve happened to make an occasional glance at my frame when passing by mirrors in the house of my human family, and I’ve noticed a bit of a pooch around the flanks of my hindquarters. That disturbs me: gaining weight is quite unusual for a rubber rat made from a pre-manufactured mold, but somehow, it seems, that’s just what it is I’ve done.
Now, in the past I’ve kept healthy by running on the hamster wheel for 30 minutes every day and restricting my diet to the lower-fat cheeses, but after the pawlidays last year I guess I just decided to relax and let my fur down a bit. Er, a little too much, perhaps, because now when I crawl onto the bathroom scale, my beady red rat eyes see several more pounds than there were in the past.
Maybe it was the Muenster. Perhaps the Parmesan. Or a likely culprit could have been the Colby-Jack; it’s one of the fattiest cheeses there is! My cheesy consumption has put me to shame. If I keep scuttling down this road I’ll end up as chubby as my corpulent rat pal Gus, and that’s not Gouda!
So now I’m making a plan to shed this weight (and maybe a little fur, too, while I'm at it: could help with an ounce or two). I’ll be sure to grease up the hamster wheel, keep healthy seeds and nuts on hand – and hide the cheese. (Oh, rats.)
Keepin’ it squeak,
Bob
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