He’s a survivor; a German Shepherd tried to eat him when he was a puppy, and almost succeeded. He’s had a wonky leg his whole life due to that.
But he’s on the final stretch now. He’s almost completely blind and has difficulty righting himself if he falls over; I have to put him back on his feet a few times a day.
The poor little dude probably only has a few weeks left. I’ll miss him.
This actually reminds me of an interesting chart I found a while back while discussing cat coloring and genetics that breaks down how it all works for torties (a calico is a tortie with an additional piebalding gene expression that adds white patches):
This naughty little fuzzbutt caught a cardinal. Not yet dead, but screaming it’s head off, he brought it in the house. He let it go, and it couldn’t really fly, but did attempt an escape.
I’m pretty squeamish, and was dreading having to pick up a not-quite-dead bird. But, he caught it again, and I put them both outside. I cannot imagine the bird made it, and there are feathers on the carpet.
I did want to mention that he doesn’t always complete the attempted murder. The day before Easter, he brought in a small rabbit, but we caught it and let it go (while Manny Pearl was locked in the bathroom) so Mr. Bunny got to live another day. Manny was pissed.
He finagled himself a couple of human servants, and a second-to-the-top spot in the household feline pecking order, despite being the youngest of the 5, so you might be right.