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Posts Tagged ‘Birman cat’

Brofurs furever.

You know what’s more aggravating than one aggravating animal? It’s two of them. They don’t even have to be the same species.



harry foot up nose



This is Harry. Otherwise known as Carraig’s Hunka Hunka Birman Love. Harry is the product of 15 years of striving to preserve and promote the very distinguished Birman cat ( the breed, not this particular example). Harry is very handsome. He is even a champion. And while he doesn’t always present himself in the best manner, he is indeed, an impressive sight. Unfortunately, he is a wee bit of catnip short of a full mouse.


roll



This of course, is Grady. And while we don’t know his origin for sure, he appears to have been the product of a breeder who didn’t care. And an owner who cared so little, they let him go blind then turned him out on the street. But to spite them all, he is a beautiful, and stunning example of his breed. Regrettably, like Harry, he is short some kibble in his bowl of mental faculties. You see where this is going, don’t you?



bros


Neither one of them has the sense God gave a turnip, and I suspect that would be insulting turnips. Whenever I see a furry kitty behind flying through the air and knocking things over, you can be sure it’s Harry. And that thumping herd of elephants following his path of destruction is Grady.

They stick together like someone velcro’d them. And if you do manage to divide and try to conquer, they’ll each give you that dewy-eyed, injured look that says “I had nothing to do with the cascade of water that is now heading for your keyboard.”


bromance with harry


Yes, they do get into trouble individually at different times but they’re each so jealous that the other is having fun, the non-involved party promptly does something bad. Thus perpetuating the non-stop cycle of mayhem.


brofurs


You wouldn’t think from looking at a picture like this, that there is anything but domestic bliss and harmony in my household. Hah! She said. I dare you to come and spend 24 hours with the pair of them. And if you are emotionally intact at the end of the day, you’ll have passed the audition for a remake of “Survivor”.

Excuse me, but my last nerve is starting to unfray. I need to go curl into a fetal ball with my thumb in my mouth while they play leapfrog over my cold, unconscious body. Please close the door carefully on the way out. It would be a cruel trick on the world to let them loose.

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