His name is Ginger. He's 18 and he lives down the block. Don't worry, he's just visiting. I've talked to his mom and it's ok that he's here...
I noticed him the first week I got here and the last couple of days he's been outside our window, so I invited him in. Today I was preparing dinner - we're having some friends over - and I heard a noise, so I went to the door. He was patiently waiting on the doormat.
He's not a cuddler, but it sure is nice to have him around. I hope the boys and Sasha won't be jealous!
5 comments:
Must be like methadone to a junky! I was with your cats yesterday but don't worry, I'll not be the one to expose your ever so casual infidelity. I know the absence of your pride must weigh on you, so if you find solace in the company of felines you pick up in the dim lit back streets of Brighton so be it. Rest assured your cats won't here of it from me.
He's the kitty welcome committee. Your cats must've let him know you were there, so he came to make you feel at home.
Talk about wishful thinking! I figure it's like a feline gigolo moving in on a cat lonely chick. Watch out Sue, you know what guys are like!
Henry says: Bok bok bok?
Arthur says: Meep?
Rupert says: Maow?
Edgar says: Fuck off with that flea treatment!
Phillip says: Mrraaou?
Sasha says: I'ma cut you, bitch!
henry's usual response to flea treatment is similar to being attacked with a red hot poker. so his response this time - chicken talk - is great!
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