I have probably mentioned my a deep affinity for orange tabbies in past posts. It's a small wonder that this little blog isn't overflowing with pictures of vibrant, beautiful, orange fuzz balls. You see, when I was just an tender three years of age, at the dawn of the endless summer that is youth, I met an orange kitten who was also just setting out on the journey that we call life . . .
Ah, sorry, I digress . . . On to the cat picture . . .
Here is an orange tabby who, on top of generally ignoring my offers of pets and imaginary treats, had the nerve to wear a scowl of irritation the entire time.
I have observed that this cat lives on a porch with several other standoffish cats. They have everything they need on the porch - food, water, cat carrier houses that are probably full of blankets or towels of some sort. By the roughness of his fur alone, you can tell that he is a little bit harder than your average house cat.
Rough fur or not, this cat is undeniably thugging. His possibly unintentional sneer conveys a sharply condescending attitude, as if to say "This cat is too damn important for your trivial crap".