Trevor and the penal colony

and designer cats getting decked

Oh I had an issue this evening dear reader.

That’s right.

I encountered a problem.

Neither small nor large, I resented it just the same.

You see, it was Friday night.

By this time, I’d decided that I’d had enough.

The universe however disagreed.

I was out for a walk with my best boy - Trevor.

We have a bit of a fucked up relationship.

I refer to him as my best boy.

And he refers to me as one of my diabolical captors.

It’s a fair assessment.

He spends his days locked in our house, peering out windows at all of the delicious birds and filthy cats that he’d like to kill.

Sadly however, he only gets time in the yard at the pleasure of his captors.

My guess is that cats like him think of our home as a penal colony.

That is a terrible assessment.

My family lives here, not a large group of random penises.

Wouldn’t it be lovely dear reader, if a penal colony was composed of a bunch of disembodied cocks.

Could you imagine the name?

The Royal Dominion of Detached Dicks.

Some say that this might be disasterous…