There are a few things in childhood that could be counted on. Older brother will give you wedgies, someone will beat you to the prize in the cereal box and Santa will attempt to ruin that holy day of Christmas by totally ignoring your request for a GI Joe Night Attack Stinger assault vehicle even though it is clear as the nose on your face that Duke has no way to engage the Cobra Command and that the very fate of the free world is a stake. Instead of much need munitions what’s that fat man bring ya? Yes you guessed it clothes.
All of my children have four legs and I have no intention of producing any of the two legged variety. However I go to great lengths to leave my four legged kids with the same deep psychological scars that I enjoyed as a child.
A little black kitten named Killwhitey is the most recent addition to my dysfunctional little hovel and like all new comers bears an unfair brunt of the abuse. Keith smelling blood in the water drew inspiration form that jolly drunken yuletide master of breaking and entering and gifted my darling little girl a shirt. Putting clothes on animals is bad, period, but this takes the disgrace to new levels. Kiss My Black Ass? This is low, even for Keith. And you can see in the picture just how happy she is to be wearing it. Another innocent bystander is caught in the cross fire.
Careful where you leave your shoes next time you visit Kieth.