Malcolm is dastardly:
This one, though, made me wonder if he'd weren't trying to self-medicate some buried trauma from his kittenhood. Perhaps his bung wasn't washed enough in his formative weeks? Perhaps he needs a soul retrieval? (if you live with kitties you are at least smiling right now; if you don't you most likely really, really wish i'd stop posting about kitty bungs.)
He likes to turn the bathroom sink into a water park. "Party in the bathroom in 5!" he's been known to holler as he herds the other cats into yet more hijinks. He's in charge of all A-Level Hijinks in our home.
But he isn't just dastardly. He's not just a fighter. He's a napper, too, as you can see by the many hours spent chilling in his hammock aka the clothes drying rack that he's learned to scale like a freakin tabby colored monkey swinging up the monkey bars. (You think I'm kidding? Dude doesn't need opposable thumbs. He's got like, spidey paws or something . . .)
Like a feline Steve Guttenberg, he's always snuggling someone.
For which we are all eternally grateful. Becuz he's as sweet and luscious as he is dastardly. Not just full of testosterone, but full of full-on multi-dimensional lovins.
Life is good with Malcolm in the house . . .