Richmond, VA, 23235
This is my cat Butterball, whom I’ve had since he was born. (I helped deliver him.) He’s a very good cat, and very important to me. However, I am going to be homeless starting on the 29th of May— I won’t have any way to support him or a place to keep him.
I love him very much, and I don’t want to take him to an animal shelter— I’d much rather see him go directly to a loving home, so I’m hoping that someone in the area can take him in. (In the future, if it’s possible, I’d really like to get him back, but as long as he’s with a loving family…)
He is an orange and white adult (older, but not elder) male cat who has been neutered. He’s very smart, and knows several words, including ‘no,’ ‘food,’ ‘snicker snacks (treats)’ ‘outside,’ and ‘lay down’. He’s litterbox trained but prefers the outside. He’s usually too lazy to hunt, but he loves to cuddle with people and is a very affectionate cat. He also loves people food, and is a terrible begger— and be careful if you have roast beef around him, he’ll go straight for it!
His health is good, but he sneezes a lot and sometimes likes wet cat food when he can get it because he is missing some teeth. (This is not a requirement, but he’ll love you for it!)
He’s a very lovely cat, and he deserves to find a loving home. Please, if you’re in the area and can possibly adopt him, please send me an ask and I’ll give you contact details to reach me. If you can’t, I humbly ask that you reblog this— I trust tumblr to help me find someone loving for him.
Signal boost, y’all.
it’s not a walk in the park to love each other, but when our fingers interlock, can’t deny, can’t deny you’re worth it ‘cause after all this time, i’m still into you.
not sure what this is. i’m a sucker for domesticity, though. and cats. clearly. n__n 500 words.
Darren hasn’t even been inside for ten seconds before Brian comes slinking up between his legs, doing excited, possessive figure-eights around his feet.
“Hey, kid,” Darren greets, content and a little sleepy. He reaches down to pluck Brian up mid-lap, and he adjusts his arms so the cat is perched on his left forearm, right hand scruffing slowly at the thick fur of his neck. “Where’s dad?”
Brian simply starts purring, a familiar, tickly deadweight against Darren’s chest. Darren absently pets through his fur for a minute, frowning at the feel of drool on his shirt but enduring it for Chris’ sake.