Here kitty, kitty
And so another week ends in kittens.
When he grows up, though, this little fucker would happily eat your liver with a good chianti and fava beans, hold the chianti and fava beans.
I’ve posted about Scottish wildcats before — body of a housecat, soul of a chainsaw-wielding escaped mental patient on a bad hair day. They start off cute, but harden into red-hot fists of burning man hatred by the time they reach adulthood.
A genuine wild beast — sadly, they are close enough to housecats to interbreed, which is proving to be their downfall. Estimates are, there may be as few as 400 purebred wildcats running free. In fact, though, there may be as few as zero purebreds in the wild.
So they’ve developed a new DNA test to identify the pure of gene. They hope to have it ready by Christmas. I’m not clear on what is new or unique about this test, but good luck to them trapping and bloodtesting all those psychomoggies.
I hope they laid in a stock of bandaids.
Good weekend, all. No, we are not watching the opening ceremonies.