Weight Shaming at the Vet

I took my cat, Bug, to the vet about a month ago. And I guess I’m getting the idea that my cat falls into the category of weight shame-able cats from the veterinary world. I left my last vet, partly because of the shamey weight narrative and also lots of other reasons. Fortunately the next vet seems much more kind and accommodating and non-shamey, however, she did bring up my cat’s weight as a concern, and gave me some suggestions about how I could make him “work” for his food.

Working as an eating disorder dietitian this conversation comes up a lot- the parallels between how we treat fatness in humans and animals and the ways that the shame can feel exponential at the vet. 

I’ve been well knitted into our American medical system most of my life, I’ve been a registered dietitian for a decade, my dad was a primary care doctor, and my mom was a physical therapist for her short career. So, despite my own medical traumas and the discomfort that the health system almost seems to promote, I feel fairly confident and knowledge savvy on how to navigate it, and advocate for myself and my clients. When it comes to the links between weight and health, the absolute absurdity of the BMI, and what we do and don’t understand about the human body, I feel very well versed and ready to take anybody “on” in a conversation dismantling these myths about weight and health. 

However, in the veterinary world, I feel totally clueless. The only other cat I’ve owned and cared for, Bloom, died before we had navigated too many vet visits. I was also a child. Fast forward to 2019, I was age 37 when Bug caught my eye and came into my home, and him and I have been getting to know each other ever since. I find that I was “arming” myself as I took him into the vet, ready to be taken advantage of, and feeling unequipped to defend or accommodate his or my own needs. And of course, desperately wanting him to get the care and tending that he needed. This, I know, is how many people feel when they take themselves or their kids in to see a doctor or other healthcare provider. 

Bug is a sensitive guy. I’m not sure what his early months were like, but he’s rather skittish and my partner, who has been loving and caring for him for the past 2 years, lovingly calls him “a high maintenance kitty” (in his cute kitty talk voice). We brush him regularly to keep the matts down, he sometimes poops where he wants, and is known to pee in our bed when we’ve left town for two long. He has seemingly lost the genetic role of the dice when it comes to dentation and I have made valiant (but unsustained) attempts to brush his teeth after the $850 dental cleaning bill slammed me to my core (I think I got took for a ride). 

And, he’s a big guy, no doubt. He’s on the larger end of the cat weight spectrum, which is great- because there is more fluff and love for us to cuddle with. The first time a vet weight shamed him, he noted that he wasn’t able to groom himself which is why he had matts. The ways that people lean into anti-fatness with such assuredness and confidence to predict all outcomes is truly abhorrent. This vet (who also referred to his vet tech as “the girl”) was wrong, influenced by bias and ego: Bug in fact regularly grooms all of himself, it’s just that he needed more regular brushing than we were aware he needed to prevent matting (he’s a long hair). We had to start afresh and get him a lion’s cut, after which he shrunk down a few sizes such that his little brother didn’t recognize him for a bit. And, for the record, if Bug was ever NOT able to groom himself, my partner and I would take over that task for him as well, because everyone deserves to be accommodated to have their care needs met. 

Being a dietitian in my own process of reclaiming intuitive eating around the time I got Bug, there were a few ups and downs as I figured out how to feed a cat but one thing I knew for sure, I would “free feed” him. That seemed like the best way to allow him, from the start, to be an intuitive eater. And it was easier on me to not have to think about feeding 2 or 3 times a day. One time during COVID I ran out of his food so thought I would feed him tuna to get through, which was a mistake LOL. Now every time I open a can of tuna Bug comes into the kitchen now, wide eyed and expectant. I always give him a little bite of his favorite taste treat. 

Bug isn’t as playful as his little brother, which is fine, but they do romp with each other every morning, rolling around and wrestling together. Bug is more intuitive. We all have our magic. 

When the last, new vet, let me know that my cat was “overweight” I clearly let her know that I was not going to put my cat on a diet, ever. 

There’s so much that I don’t know about animal care and health, and I am okay with that. But what I can extrapolate from human health (which I’m guessing we are modeling our vet health on, I mean, that’s what we do- right? Model all health around white, cis, male bodies?) is that we have these ideas about “right” and “wrong” and if you and your body don’t align with “right” we make broad sweeping assumptions about what could be true about you. And, it’s far from okay or even close to an idea of “healthcare”.

I am 100% clear on the fact that if I start restricting Bug’s food, it will create more stress for my sensitive guy, which equals more eye goop, more accidents we have to clean up, will create discomfort for one of my favorite little beings, and it will introduce tension in our deeply loving relationship. I am not willing to do that, the risk is far greater than the good? Which no one has been able to describe to me (but I’m guessing follows the same asinine logic for humans). Bug’s labs are fine. He gets eye goop when he gets stressed, and his teeth might require me to create a  dental fund for him, and he got some of his momma’s sensitive anxiety ridden traits, perhaps from some of his own early trauma. He doesn’t need a diet, he needs to be loved, seen, and taken care of while he lives this life alongside us. I want to offer him as much joy and ease as I am able, because he’s made my life all the more sweeter and brighter since I brought him into my life. And his body is not a problem to be solved, it’s the vessel for which he gets to live his sweet little life out.