I don’t know if you’re interested in pet stories, but I was pretty mad, and saddened, that fatphobia even means that our PETS can’t get good health care! My cat died earlier this year at the age of 15. About two years before she died, I took her to the vet for a UTI, and I also asked about my cat’s weight. She weighed only 7 pounds as an adult, was quite bony under all her fluff, and also threw up a couple times a week, and I was concerned that maybe her weight was low, and wanted to ask if she might have nutritional deficiencies. The vet’s reply? Verbatim: “She’s just petite. Trust me, the last thing you want is an overweight cat!” I left really annoyed for two reasons: first, I’d rather have a fat cat than a lot of other things. It’s not the last thing I’d want at all. It wouldn’t be doomsday. And I’m certain my cat would be really wonderful whether she was fat or skinny or somewhere in between. Second, I’ve recovered from an eating disorder (unless being “overweight” now means I haven’t recovered, according to some people), but when I went to the doctor several times, 20 pounds underweight (and with low blood pressure, orthostatic hypotension, anemia, and osteopenia – all of which were related to anorexia), my doctor never once suggested I gain weight! She just told me to take calcium and iron supplements. At the time of the vet appointment, I was at a “normal/thin” weight but actively struggling with bulimia. Comments like this just reinforced my fear of gaining weight.
A year later, having lost another pound (my cat was now 6 pounds), a different vet correctly diagnosed her with hypothyroid disease, which was causing all kinds of problems, including the weightloss and kidney failure. She died a few months later at just 5 pounds. But I guess I should be grateful, because, as the vet so kindly informed me, the last thing I want is an overweight cat.