This no-neck cardboard-crunching monster is named Blert-after a call he makes. (Nancy has informed me the proper spelling is Bllrrtt?)
Blert came to us in 2007 from my sister-in-law by way of my mother-in-law. In less than a year he has blossomed from an average cat-weight of about 9 pounds to 17 pounds plus. There is almost nothing he will not eat, and he has a box chewing fetish as well. It seems that every large neutered male we've ever had has been an idiot, and Blert is carrying on that fine tradition. There are brighter bricks.
He is singularly clueless about the pecking order in our feline household. He is on the bottom, Henrietta is next, and at the top of the heap is our queen, Dumpster. That streetwise Henrietta would kick him around is no surprise-we often wondered if she would ever become tame. At age fifteen, deaf, arthritic, and partly blind, Dumpster can still take him behind the woodshed. Every challenge to this established order ends with the big idiot being chased across the house followed closely by a ball of outraged fur.
Dale Austin, March 21, 2008
All images and text Copyright Dale Austin, 1962-2008