A long, long time ago, my Staff picked me up from the local humane society Imprisonment Centre, where I’d been incarcerated for over 4 months. I overwhelmed them with my manly good looks, not to mention my charming personality. My age is unknown, but I am obviously in the prime of life. My pedigree is something of a mystery, but I’m sure it must be pretty impressive since I cut such a fine figure of a cat. The Staff feels that I have a lot of Burmese in me, which is pretty cool. In fact, several years after arriving at my new home, I contracted a throat infection that only affects pure bred cats. Now, how cool is THAT!
My favourite things include : any place that looks like a cave, drooling while I purr, chasing my tail, killing the artificial prey that the Staff provides for me, running around the house at top speed, and entertaining the staff with political commentary after they’ve gone to bed.
Oh, and declarations of the Staff to the contrary, I do NOT break wind, pass gas, or fart. If there is no sound, it never happened. You have my personal assurance of that.
And any drool that you may find on your clothing after I grace you with my presence must have been there before I arrived. You disgusting creature, you.
staff notes :
The vet estimated his age at 3 – 5 years when we picked him up in 1998; his coat was like a bristle-brush, but plenty of TLC soon fixed that; when we got him, he didn’t seem to know how to purr, but little by little it started coming back to him!
Although he is now (in 2012) getting on in years, he is still pretty active. He doesn’t bomb around the house, but still trots. In fact, a few months ago he managed to catch a mouse after the other cats (and the staff) failed to catch it!