You know, hobo signs? Like on that weird episode of Mad Men where the hobo is Father Intantola from Sopranos? Hobo signs!
It seems that cats must be doing the same, because the felines simply accrete on our porch, and started to when we began putting chow out for Tess. The Bride, in her best Royal Tenenbaum, had to yell "This isn't your house, asshole!" at Cyrus, who was lolling around like Tina Onassis.
There's Tess, who has impunity.
Cyrus/Meatball, who could be two different orange cats, so named, or maybe Cyrus has grown up into the meaty lollygaggler who so affronted us.
CrazyFace, who is a dick, who lives down the street and even has a collar...she comes up, tries to eat Tess's chow, and is generally a bully, but when she sees humans she wigs and dashes. Wuss!
Blackie Lawless, skinny little boy who just may be father of one of our grandcats across the way. He's shiftless, but harmless. Someone cue "Teenage Dad on His Estate."
I expect it will only get worse/better.
Will try to tonight to get pics/vids of these various twerps.
No comments:
Post a Comment