Poopycat (Las Vegas, Nevada)
This morning while I was talking to Kris, Zero (pictured above) came tearing down the stairs with a plastic bag looped over his head. He banged into the wall in the opposite corner of the room, turned around, and dashed back upstairs. A few moments later Bethany called down to ask for Kris’s help because Zero had literally been “scared shitless.”
I took to calling him Poopycat, at least until he was given a bath. Then I felt bad, because there’s not much that’s quite so sad-looking as a wet cat.
