Gotta limit the amount of cat I throw on here, ya know…
I encountered the messy trio of Endy, Che, and Percy again, and as usual, they made my hour at the shelter… well, messy. If they were kicking fruit loops out of the litter box, I’d say it was adorable, but instead, it’s a whole lot of litter. They might be silly and goofy, but they know when to take a crap, and it’s as soon as I enter the door. I swear to you, all three of them must have jumped in the box as soon as they saw me. Stank up the room just as badly as their much-larger sheltermates. If I were to guess, I’d say Che lays it down the worst. He cuddles like a mofo, but you know he probably sneaks in a stink bomb when you’re not looking.
By the way, Che likes to lay on his back when he’s in anyone’s arms. It’s entirely ridiculous. Squints his eyes like a baby and nods off in the process. Percy is the first out the door when I open it, and then she turns into a puddle of purring goo when I grab her. Endy, for whatever reason, seems to be twice the size of his sibs. Yet they all have one thing in common: they’re really goofy looking. They haven’t past the gangly kitten phase, as one Mr. McLovin did with flying colors. They’re getting bigger, sure… but it’s a weird look. I’ll have to get a picture next time.
By the way, I’ve gotten a bit of crap for talking up the cats-in-pairs thing, but look at these buggers:
Gotta have someone to chill with when their owners are at work, you know.
Oh, and WHEN SIX YEAR OLDS (OR PROJECT RUNWAY FANS) NAME CATS… one of those guys is named Hot Mess. Ugh.