Cat of mine..from where did you come? .The same fat black ball of dander that I couldn't convince to walk into a 9th floor hallway has decided that I can't have coffee on the veranda without him. Don't get me wrong...he can torture and eat an insect with abandon, which makes hims of particular use when you live on the ground floor. I'll call him the Paris Hilton of the Ohio Valley.
Nancy, the love of my life, and Maximus never really shared that much in common 'til we dragged his butt this far West. Now, I think they're sharing toothbrushes. He has this unnerring sense of time that wakes her an hour early...which would be cool but, his howls wake me up before her.
I'm fairly convinced he thinks he still has testicles. When I first met this little shit, he was 6 weeks old, with serious fleas and a particular ferocious breed of ear mites. Thanks out to veterniarians everywhere, I saved my first animal. He seems to have forgotten from whence he came.
So, yeah, I'm still allergic to the dick-smoke, yeah, he eats too much and pukes on the carpet, yeah, Nancy plays MMA with the poor dude and leaves him to me when he's all pissed off.
I can't believe he's 8 years old...
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