SimbaTigerEST. NAPTIME

Simba, in his own words · Recovery

My long road back from treat addiction

I can quit whenever I want. This is the story of why I have chosen not to do so yet.

By SimbaFormer assistant professorAs told from Mama's pillow
Simba curled on a couch with one paw over his face
A private moment during an otherwise public struggle.

It began, as many stories of excess do, at a birthday party. Someone opened a bag of Party Mix. I tried one piece. Then another. Before that day, I had been a scholar, an educator, a cat with a future. Afterward, I knew which cabinet the bag lived in.

Editor's note

Simba's brief academic appointment ended after one summer. His former students were immigrants learning English. The reason for his dismissal remains under investigation.

The cabinet

The cabinet is in the kitchen. I pass it every day. Sometimes I stand beside it and yell so the family understands that I am still committed to recovery. They call this “asking for treats.” I call it communicating my location and needs.

I have already cut back considerably. The fact that my weight does not reflect this is a complicated metabolic issue and, frankly, between me and my physician.

“These are the diet ones.”— Simba, regarding several treats that do not appear to be diet treats

A diversified approach

Growth requires change. I moved beyond Party Mix into wet treats. Later, I added seaweed in recognition of my Chinese heritage. Critics describe this as “expanding the addiction.” I prefer “diversifying my nutritional portfolio.”

I remain fully capable of quitting at any time. I simply believe sudden deprivation would be difficult for Mama, who worries when I cry. I follow her everywhere so I can monitor this concern, including into the bathroom. At night, I sleep on her pillow. During the day, I make biscuits on her. Recovery should never come at the expense of family closeness.

Simba resting closely against Mama
Simba with Mama, his preferred parent, pillow, recovery sponsor, and alleged enabler.

The intervention

My younger half brother, Tiger, is organizing what he calls an intervention. He has invited Mama, a squirrel, and a bird who visit the porch. I question whether porch acquaintances are qualified to speak on matters of feline nutrition.

Tiger says he is concerned. This is interesting because Tiger frequently runs away when I ambush, bite, or punch him. On rare occasions he kicks me in the head. On extremely rare occasions he fights back and wins. I share this only so readers can evaluate the credibility of the organizer.

One day at a time

Today, I am focused on moderation. Tomorrow, I will also be focused on moderation. Between those two periods, there may be a wet treat. This does not mean the plan has failed. Recovery is not linear, especially when the Party Mix cabinet is directly visible from the floor.

I am unemployed at present because a job would take time away from Mama. This has allowed me to commit myself fully to healing, following her between rooms, and verifying whether any recently opened packages contain the diet version.

Editor's final assessment

Early in the process. Strong family support. Limited evidence of cutting back.