A few weeks after my girlfriend left I was offered the chance to rescue another cat by a colleague at work who showed me a picture of a kitten curled up in a cat bowl. I agreed to save the little guy from what I was assured was going to ba a fate worse than death. On a temporary basis. Until a home could be found for him.
A cage containing a cat was duly delivered to the house. I couldn't help but notice, as the new arrival emerged from the pet carrier and unfolded himself, that he was about thrice as big as Millie despite the fact, I was told, that he was the same age.
That must have been some big fricken bowl he was photographed in.
I named him Moschops, for no apparent reason.
Moschops in his trademark Nuremberg pose.
Time, as it does, passed. The cats grew, as cats do. I discovered that finding a home for a cat or two is not as easy as it sounds. Pretty soon Moschops, who seems to grow a few inches every day, started peeing on things. It was pointed out that that I should consider having his peas picked before he and Millie started reproducing and also to stop him spraying. Good idea, I thought. I figured I'd get round to it eventually.
Sadly, "eventually" was not fast enough. Moschops got round to Millie before I got round to getting him neutered and the results are pictured below.
After much deliberation I think I might call them WTF and Holy Shit or Hattie and Holly for short (thanks Barbara!).
Hattie and Holly in their scratching post.
.JPG)