A sort of beginning

His real name was Teddy, we’d got him from a rescue centre after he and his brothers had been rescued from a breeder/hoarder. He’d had a shit life, they’d been kept in a cage in a barn, for breeding. No toys, no play, no interaction with people. For the first week he hid behind the sofa, spare bed, anywhere in fact. We were on the brink of taking him back when one morning, my wife got up for work at stupid o’clock (as she always does) and I heard her crying. I jumped up and found Ted brushing round her legs and squeaking for food. About a week later he was happy with me as well. I think he realised that hewas never going to get a better life than he would with us. And he didn’t.
He was never really ‘well’ though and had lots of tummy upsets. We thought it was due to having proper food. We kept a pack of sanitising wipes handy at all times. And although (understandably) always a bit nervous, he let my wife clean him when he’d
‘soiled’ himself.

So why Fat Leg Ted?
My wife had commented that he had thin legs.
“Why would he want fat legs? Who wants a cat with fat legs? That sounds like a gangster name from the Simpsons. He could be one of Fat Tony’s henchmen, Fat Leg Ted. Or a geezer in a London pub. ‘Oi! Fat Leg, fancy a pint?’ “.

And so Fat Leg Ted was born. I needed a username for a new Reddit account – what more suitable way to honour Fat Leg Ted?
The Reddit account is gone, and Reddit not too far behind, it would seem, but Fat Leg Ted lives on thanks to Mastodon/Beehaw/BlueSky etc.

He had a perfect life with us for about 4 months, before he succumbed to FIP. Which explained the tummy upsets.

And here is our Daisy, another rescue. A princess, and she knows it.