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I don't own one because I'm allergic but I've found homes for dozens of kittens. My grandmother cares for a stray that kept getting knocked up (like most troubled urban youth) she had four liters before she was finally caught and spayed.
Forgive the lousy lighting and camera phone quality;
Fritz is the top one, and Mesa is on the bottom. They're Brother & Sister, same markings, but ones a short hair and the other is sorta medium/long haired. Both are goofs.
While Twitchy here doesn't live with me, I'm the one who rescued her adorable ass from being a gutter kitten and got her hooked up with her owner after she followed me home one day. Her owner calls me Twitchy's fairy godmother, so I thought I'd show the cutie off to you all!
The project: convert a shitty Ikea end table into something a cat would like. Armed with a coil of sisal rope, a 3x5' carpet remnant, a bottle of wood glue (nontoxic!), and a staple gun, I got to work.
Here's the table leg converted to a scratching post. Notice how shitty the other legs look. This was not a good table.
And here's the carpeted surface. The corners still need a bit of tidying-up in this shot.
And here's Calvin relaxing on the (more or less) completed table. I still might wrap the other 3 legs, just because he hasn't really figured out how to use the post yet.
Aww @AN/ALR-56 your taste in women is questionable, but not your taste in pussy.
Here's my fatass. I took her in when she was 7 because her cunt of an owner (who I worked with) didn't want her anymore and was going to have her put down. She's a little messed in the head.
The one on the left is Minerva (we call her either Minner or Minnie). She's five years old, insanely bipolar. One minute she'll purr like a motorbike, stuff her little wet cat nose into your eyes and ears, beg to be picked up... but then the next minute she viciously growls, hisses and swipes at you for no apparent reason. She likes my dad better.
The one on the right is Decimus (we call him Bomble). He's three years old and Minerva's son. He's spoiled rotten. He sleeps under or on my sheets, routinely steals food off my fork or out of my hands, bullies Minerva, but also follows me around and comes to me when I whistle, even from across the house. Is also completely terrified of my dad.