He's going home!
For the last year I've been fostering my friends' cat, Minsk.
He came to me dangerously emaciated and anemic, having been feasted in by a flea infestation.
His evolution was:
Wet rag--sad gremiln--creecher made of leftover muppet parts--Rum Tum Tugger--tiny smilodon.
We have restored him to full power and full floof. As you can see in the above image, it's impossible to get a good picture; he doesn't hold still.
I wish I could have just integrated him into our main household but he and our resident male cat Lincoln became bitter enemies, which resulted in actual real cat fights and pee-marking.
I'm talking about the cat fights that actually looked exactly like this:
He's going to the vet for a checkup and to get his flea prevention medication, then straight home!
We love you, little guy, but it is time to go home to your mamas.
