well for the last week i've slowly been coming to terms with the fact that he's roadkill somewhere out in churchill..because for the last week he hasn't been sitting at the back door crying to be let in (he's a poof, i tell ya, and all he wants to do is laze around on my waterbed all day)..
anyway...i had forgotten that it's spring-time..and my refusal to have him newtered would mean that he'd be tempted to head off and fuck around town..."that's my boy"
well thank god for kitty testosterone cuz he's home...and not dead....but rather skinny and hungry...and he has a chunk missing out of his head.. but he is still beautiful and gorgeous and maybe not the little faggot i always hope he would be...