Ivan died last night.
Yesterday afternoon, I was trying to find some amusement in which was otherwise a fairly monotonous day. I noticed Ivan standing in the hallway glaring at his empty food bowl. Ivan has yet to grasp the reality that he is on a diet. He is allowed two meals a day and a late night snack before the two leggers retire to their bedroom.
The only other food he is allowed is that which he can acquire through thought and cunning. Therefore, his diet consists of two meals a day and a late night snack before the two leggers retire to their bedroom.
Taking pity on the poor soul, I asked Ivan what he would do if he was suddenly presented with all the food he could possibly eat. His response (after much attempt at thought) was that he would proceed to eat all the food that he could possibly eat.
I have often wondered how much food Ivan could possibly eat.
Well, perhaps "often" is inaccurate.
I "once" wondered how much food Ivan could possibly eat.
Adhering to my philosophy that "Curiosity kills the other cat", I decided to put Ivan to the test. Climbing to the shelf where the two leggers keep our food, I pushed the container thingy to the edge. With Ivan salivating below, I pushed the container thingy off and was rewarded with a satisfying "THUNK-PLOOSH" as the container thingy struck Ivan on his micro-noggin and the lid separated from the previously mentioned container thingy.
I sat back and watched as Ivan transformed into a carbon based Hoover Sucky Thingy. In a fit of unwarranted charity, I decided to include Tiger Lily in this amusement and left the room to fetch her. By the time I found her cowering behind the entertainment center, and convinced her that I was not going to smack her (yet), the incessant slurping and crunching had indeed ceased.
We discovered Ivan laying paws up in the middle of the hallway. He had eaten himself to death. By the grin on his pudgy little face, I knew he had died happy.
Being a sentimental sort, I instantly decided that he would have wanted me, his dearest friend, to have most of his toys, including his catnip cigar thingy. I also declared that in honor of his memory, Tiger Lily would not be allowed to lay in his spot on the heated bathroom floor. That space would be reserved for myself if ever I decided to honor his memory.
Tiger Lily, being somewhat more calloused than I, realized that she had moved up a place in the smacking order and began to strut. I then informed her that the bathroom spider was actually named Ivan's heir and her place would remain the same.
It was at this point that Ivan began snoring.
Ivan was not deceased. He had simply slipped into a state known as Happy Tummy Induced Hibernation. H.T.I.H. occurs when one has consumed so much food that the body literally shuts down in order to prevent the consumption of more food.
This was not a new occurrence to me. I have witnessed it twice a year, every year in the two leggers. It always happens shortly after Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner. The male gorges himself, and recognizing the onset of symptoms, places himself in front of the talking box thingy (which is invariably tuned to football) and enters H.T.I.H.
After several hours, Ivan awoke somewhat dazed. He immediately asked why all of his toys had been moved. I informed him of Tiger Lily's mistaken premise that he had died and her assumption of all his assets.
I'm fairly certain that as soon as he is able to walk again, Tiger Lily is gonna pay.