Once upon a time, in the town right next to yours, there lived the fattest cat in the history of the world, and his name was Pudding Butt. Now when I say Pudding Butt was big, I don’t just mean big – I mean BIG. He was so fat that had to sleep in a Rubbermaid plastic tub instead of a cat bed. He weighed nearly 45 lbs.

Pudding Butt was a glutton. But he was a glutton for one thing only. Pudding. Tapioca, to be exact. Pudding Butt just couldn’t get enough of it. Morning, noon & night the cat craved Tapioca. His momma kept it in little plastic pudding cups tucked in every cabinet of the kitchen. But it still wasn’t enough.

One morning, Pudding Butt woke up hungry. He always woke up hungry. And so he yawned and stretched and smacked his little (big) Pudding Butt lips, and waddled into the kitchen for breakfast.

MEOW, he called to his momma. Which meant, “Hey Lady, get me some Pudding. Right NOW.”

His momma looked at Pudding Butt with worried eyes. “Oh, sweetums, I spoke with your doctor this morning. Remember last week when I took you to the vet? Well, your test results came back and [GULP] you have a little bit of a… weight issue.”

MEOW, said Pudding Butt. Which meant, “Really. That’s great, now get me my PUDDING.”

“So, ummmm, anyway poopsie, you’re going to have to go on a diet. Starting today. No more tapioca for you, my furry little man.” And his momma took a carrot out of the crisper bin and dropped into Pudding Butt’s dish.

MEEEEEOOOW ???

Pudding Butt just looked at the carrot, and looked at his momma. Back and forth, back and forth. Until, sensing no forthcoming pudding, he turned tail, disgusted, and squeeeeeeeezed himself through his dog-sized cat door.

And so Pudding Butt began to walk, albeit very slowly, dragging his massive blimp-like middle along the ground. Fortunately for Pudding Butt, he’d only gone a block before he picked up the scent. The scent of… PUDDING!

HOLY MOLEY! thought Pudding Butt, and he began to trot a little faster. Sniff-sniff-sniffing the air with eager interest. The trail led him to the rear of a nondescript house, and up to the window ledge of what appeared to be the kitchen. With quite a bit of doing, Pudding Butt heeeeeeaved himself up to the ledge and peered through the dusty window. The room was spacious and filled – and I mean FILLED – with pudding. Big cups, little cups, huge institutional-sized cans of it, stocked floor to ceiling with no room in between. And sandwiched inside this pudding cocoon, there sat a man. The biggest man he’d ever seen. He wore a stained and yellowed t-shirt emblazoned with “PUDDING EATING CHAMPION OF THE WORLD” and was hunched over an open tub of tapioca.

This vast ocean of pudding belonged to none other than Pudding Baxter Jones, the pudding-eating champion of the world. But Pudding Jones had grown disillusioned with the world of competitive eating, which he felt had become too much of a commercial enterprise, and so he had retired to live the quiet life of a once world champion.

Pudding Jones sat eating eagerly, hungrily, totally transfixed, like he’d been trapped on a deserted island for months and just found his way home. He stopped occasionally to breathe and look around the room at all of his unopened pudding. Pudding Butt, being an animal, had the ability to read human emotions with just a glance. And what Pudding Butt sensed was an intense loneliness. Almost palpable, like the big gaping hole of hunger gnawing inside his belly at that very moment. And so Pudding Butt did what came naturally.

MEEEEEEOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWW. Which meant, “COME HERE RIGHT NOW, YOU BIG HANDSOME BEAST. INVITE ME IN TO YOUR PUDDING FEAST!!!”

Pudding Jones, upon hearing this loud call, looked up and locked eyes with the cat. And never, in all the history of the world, was there ever a truer or more sincere case of love at first sight. Pudding Jones had never beheld such a beautiful creature in his life! He rushed over to the window and threw it open wide, exclaiming, “MY FRIEND!!!” To which Pudding Butt replied, MEOW. Which meant, “Home Sweet Home.”