My big, fat, technophobic cat

A writer at The Verge chronicles the ongoing struggle to manage their chronically overweight 10-year-old cat, Pablo, exploring the surprisingly complex world of pet weight management technology and the friction that comes when a deeply food-motivated, gadget-resistant animal stands between you and a vet's orders.

Keeping a chunky cat healthy turns out to be harder than it sounds. The Verge's writer details years of veterinary warnings about their 20-pound cat Pablo, whose excess weight puts him at serious risk for diabetes, kidney disease, and painful urinary blockages — a trifecta of feline health hazards that vets have been flagging at every annual checkup.

In response, the writer explores the growing ecosystem of pet health technology — smart feeders, portion-control devices, connected scales, and activity monitors — designed to help owners get a handle on their animals' weight. The catch? Pablo himself is the biggest obstacle, showing little patience for gadgets that stand between him and his next meal.

The piece doubles as a relatable meditation on the gap between knowing what needs to be done for a pet's health and actually executing it, especially when the patient in question has no interest in cooperating.

Pablo, a 10-year-old cat described with obvious affection, has become a minor household legend — beloved, rotund, and entirely indifferent to the health concerns he causes. At 20 pounds, he carries what his vets consider a dangerous amount of extra weight for a domestic cat his age, and the medical stakes are real: feline obesity is closely linked to type 2 diabetes, chronic kidney disease, and urinary tract complications that can become life-threatening if untreated.

The Verge writer uses Pablo's story as a jumping-off point to investigate the booming market for pet health technology. Smart automatic feeders that dispense precise portions on a schedule, Bluetooth-connected weight scales designed to track subtle changes over time, and even activity monitors modeled loosely on human fitness trackers have all emerged as tools pitched at anxious pet owners trying to do right by their animals between vet visits.

But the piece captures an honest tension that anyone with a stubborn or food-obsessed pet will immediately recognize: the technology only works if the animal tolerates it. Pablo, apparently, does not make that easy. His resistance to weigh-in routines and feeding restrictions transforms every attempt at intervention into a minor domestic standoff, which gives the story much of its humor and heart.

Why it matters: as veterinary costs rise and pet ownership continues to grow, consumer tech companies are increasingly targeting the pet care space as a serious market. The global pet wearables and smart device industry is projected to reach billions in value over the next decade. But stories like Pablo's highlight a genuinely underappreciated design challenge — building products that account not just for owner behavior, but for the unpredictable, often uncooperative nature of the animals themselves.

Ultimately, the piece works on two levels: as a practical look at whether pet health tech actually delivers on its promises, and as a warmly funny portrait of the irrational love that makes people keep trying anyway, year after vet visit after year.