Problemo Numero Uno: We named him.
Issue The Second: He insists on free passage between our room and the outside.
Thirdly: We are allergic to him.
The Fourth (aha!): He sleeps in a basket that once held our crocheting, therefore displacing a heap of yarny goods.
The Fifth Element: His right hind leg is curled protectively against his belly at all times, resulting in a pathetic hobble and an inability to jump.
Six: He needs a bath.
Seventh Dilemma: He probably has fleas.
Number Eight: He sounds like he has a respiratory issue-- at the very least, he has a very silly purr.
Problem Nine: He is not litter-box trained.
Ten: We are going to keep him.
Fred Baby is curled up in a basket behind me as I write this, snoring away between a blanket and a pair of sweatpants. He is the poorest old slob with a name that I ever did see-- and he decided last night that he wanted to live with Sharon and me. And since he literally hasn't left my sight in ten hours, I think the ten reasons can be overlooked for now.
