1985 was a rough year for me, but I did something crazy to mitigate the bad shit. I adopted three, count ’em three, kittens. The white ball of fluff who I named Q-Tip was still with his kitty mother when I found Charlie and Manet on the River Road in Baton Rouge. Like a fool I kept all three.
I always feel bad that I have so few pictures of my pre-digital camera era cats, so I like to post some on occasion. Charlie is the ginger cat, and Manet the regal black beast sleeping on a chair with the Tip:
