This may come as a
surprise to most, but I have a confession to make.
I am a big fat softy. . .
Ok, so none of you are really all that
surprised, but I still don't know how I got myself into this situation.
Actually I do. . . it was Wretched. . . Wretched is always the reason I get into situations like this.
Wretched had decided that she was going to get a cat. . . and had, in her
infinite wisdom, decided that I would go along with her to get said cat. . . fine, but I was expecting the humane society. . . not some dirty, smelly waist-land house in the north west end.
So when I saw this little runty, sickly thing living in such
squallier how was I supposed to just leave him there?

His name is Bowie. . . He blends in with my apartment. . . he is the most clingy creature I have ever met. . . And even though he is going to grow up to be a snobby soul eating monster one day, I just can't help but love him!

Mostly he thinks I am pretty rad too, and has decided that aside from playing with the fish tank, and chasing
invisible things around the floor, his favorite thing to do is chill on my lap while I watch cheesy crime drama.