George is my fat, neurotic and questionably gay (yet total eunuch) of a cat. He’s nervous, lazy and incredibly smelly at times. Kicking back on the couch with him on a typical evening, he will drop the stankiest, most vile, evil bombs without so much as hint of shame.

I’ve had George for two years now. He was five months old when I picked him from a cage at a city animal shelter in Brooklyn. He was small, cute, extremely affectionate and liked having his stomach rubbed. Now, as time has passed, he’s become tubby, paranoid and strongly averse to being picked up. Who knew that such a darling kitten would grow to be such chunky bastard of a layabout? Not I.

Still, he is my fat, gay son and as such, I accept him. More truthfully, I enjoy ridiculing him. He’s a truly weird cat. Check out the hundreds of photos of him on my Flickr stream. Then, after doing so, perhaps you will realize how weird I may be for taking so many pictures of him.

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