Recently I realized that with the scintillating pressures of living with my brother and sister, coupled with going to grad school, I need therapy. That’s been obvious to everyone else. Therefore, in the tradition of my family when faced with the inevitable need for professional help, I did what any rational person would do: I got a cat.
Tank, as he was renamed from a very sissy moniker, is a beast. He’s a year old, weighs seventeen-or-so pounds, and is the literal image of his name. He’s barreled into me at least a dozen times and on a daily basis, while in the process of chasing toys, he slams into the front door at full speed. I’m not sure if this is causing brain damage. Only time will tell. If it is causing him to sleep like he does in this picture we may have problems. I could lie and say I’ve almost stepped on him when he’s in this position on the floor but honestly, how could you miss a cat that big?
Ok, so now we need to know the Sissy Name. Like Fluffy-Poo, or Mr Cuddle-Puss. And how is this new addition going over with Edgar and Norman? And does he Play well with others?I think we should rename them Fluffy-Poo and Cuddle-Puss. How well do you think that will go over… Tee Hee…