Meet Justice

Sooooo, the other night K, the bf, brings home a stray kitten who was lingering around the soi in front of our condo. In a massive coincidence or, as I like to see it, a sign from the cat gods, earlier the same night I had picked up the very same kitten and contemplated taking him inside. Some nitwit had put a gold chain around his neck, which has since been removed after twice getting caught in the cat's jaw a la that incident with Ninja when he got his face caught in his collar. I dubbed him Justice after one of my favourite musical electronic French duos AND because he looked like a little street pimp when he had his bling on.

From the moment Justice was seconded into the apartment under the cover of night, Frankie has acted like a pedophile butt rapist. He is so constantly in the cat's grill, or more accurately, with his nose in the cat's actual anus that he must be monitored at all times lest actual penetration occurs. Jack Russells are also cat killers, so there's that potential danger as well, although to be truthful it's more likely a fatality would occur via Of Mice and Men uber-petting, where Lennie pets the puppies - and Curly's wife - to death.

There are some totally peaceful, idyllic times when cat lies with dog without fighting and hissing and whining but these are so rare that when it happens it warrants being photographed. Even then, you have to be fast before the pissing, spitting and head-batting starts with renewed vigour.






















So there's the newest developments from Bek World - no new job, no money, no travels, but an extra mouth to feed, a cat that smells like dog spit and a 200 per cent increase in dog-directional yelling.

Next week: job news. Hopefully good.