...I mean pets! But mine annoys me. Wants to spend time in my room, door invariably shut. Sleeps for seven hours, wakes me up at 4am with a furball on the carpet and wants to be fed before being let outside. What a ****.
But he's still pretty awesome. He's a cat, half tabby, and half manx, which means he (naturally) has absolutely no tail (not one of those phallic stub tails). When he sits out by the gate and school children walk past, they usually think he's been the victim of some horrible accident. He hasn't. But he milks it anyway. What a phony.
He's about 11 years old now, and there's an interesting story of how we acquired him. And, like all good stories, it begins with milkshake. My mum had made a huge bunch of strawberry milkshake. We didn't tell her, but it wasn't very nice. Actually, my brother told her he really enjoyed it (he, too, is a liar), and she made more. So it ended up going off, and my dad went out one day to pour it out. Along came a cat with no tail, who seemed to enjoy the milkshake (again, he's a phony). He drank, and then followed my dad onto our property, and then into the house. He seemed hungry, so we gave him some cheese and some meat. Then he made himself comfortable on a chair.
We had no idea whose cat this was, but it kept hanging around. We put it out when it wanted to go out, and it kept coming back to the door and settling in the back room. It appeared to be toilet trained, but it was young, so we reasoned it wasn't a stray, though it had no collar. A few days passed and my mother espied a lost cat notice with a picture of him. The owner arrived, and it was spot on. The woman told us that he ran away over a week ago (we'd had him for three days), and had no idea how he had come so far (over eight kilometres). She said that he had a brother from the same litter in her house, who hadn't left. His name was Bart, and the one that had befriended us was Max.
A day later, the owner rang up and said that Max had gone missing once again, and wondered if he had turned up. He hadn't, until a few days later when a little grey face appeared through the glass of the back door. It was Max. He came in, and made himself home in a chair. We have no idea how he managed to find the exact same house, or why he had apparently chosen us as his new family. We rang his owner, who had come to the conclusion that he appeared more comfortable with us, and that we could keep him. We decided to change his name, however, to "Mr. Cat" (seriously -- we thought it was original, and we also thought that my little autistic brother might learn the word "cat").
Mr. Cat has now been with us for ten years and is presently asleep on a pair of my jeans.
So what's the point of this thread? Well, tell us about your pet/s, if you have any. Any interesting stories? Any sad stories? Anything?
ALSO. Post pictures. Whose TFF pet is the cutest, ugliest, toughest, laziest, most obese, etc. But Gatsby will probably win. :3
Here's a few of Mr. Cat:
SPOILER!!:
Are there better photos of Mr. Cat? Yes. Do I like getting revenge by posting risque and arguably pornographic pictures (he's naked) of my cat? Yes.
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