In case you can't tell, Harry is Siamese. When I was very young, we had a Siamese cat named Sushi, and she was outrageously mean and vicious (my family knows this story). We're talking hide-in-the-bathroom-and-attack-my-legs-when-I-walked-by-mean. We're talking sleep-in-my-bed-and-scatch-the-cr**-out-of-my-legs-when-I-moved-at-night vicious. Anyhoo, Sushi had a litter of kittens, and we kept one. He was born feet first, and it seemed that at some point during that process his brain was deprived of oxygen because he was mentally retarded (of course there was no way of knowing this for certain, but his behavior over the years indicated some, shall we say, mental deficiencies). This cat was the best cat I have ever known. He let me dress him up in baby clothes, and push him around in my doll stroller. Sweetest animal ever. His name was Harry. Today when I came back in the house from outside, I was greeted with this sight...
Harry actually seemed to be enjoying himself. This little guy is doing an amazing job of acclimating to the chaos in our house. I think we've found another good one. He's got big shoes to fill, and I think old Harry is smiling down (or up??) from cat heaven!
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