One Classy Guy

Here he is, I’m calling him Herman. Must be a him, because he’s orange. Syd says that because of genetics, he must be a boy. I must believe her when she tells me these things.

He was feral, more or less. Not completely freaked out by humans, but not willing to come close enough to let me pet him. Some people kept coming by, which made him skittish, but he knew that humans were for something. He could tell we had some purpose. The other people nearly scared him off. However, through careful application of goldfish crackers, I managed to get him to come close enough to get photos of us. This lead to moronic statements from by-standers that we needed to be careful because “it” might bite me… instead of… you know… the fucking crackers he was fucking eating. People often ask me why I have utter disdain for the human race. Stupid, fucking rat creatures. He’s not “that animal” and calling him “it” makes me want to grab a knife and go to town. I was wearing he hated black suit though. Now… while I hate the suit, I was raised properly and have learned the rules of ettiquette. I even write a blog about it when I can get my shit together on that point. Let’s not dwell on that now though, let’s look at me and Herman.

Check these two classy motherfuckers out…

Even Buddy liked him.

Herman is a classy guy.

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