Yes, I have walked by people hurting badly for food due to poverty and war and bad people and countries going nuts in the 1960s. And yes, I gave away most everything I had as a 190-pound well-fed Marine - and so did my comrades.

But now in my latter years there is a girl that plays me like a harp as if she is just out of a burning hut without having eaten for ten days - her name is Mister Mittens and she's got the world by the balls as a beloved house cat if only she'd stop eating.

9 p.m tonight - Breakfast, lunch, and dinner were good. The kibble in the yellow bowl was made to disappear mostly by Mister Mittens. The "special treats" laid out by the bride got jumped hard. Cat sleep time but Mister Mittens is parked by the feed dishes looking for more food:



Her long large lean son does a meal through a quick graze deal and then races off to be a screwball tomcat with no balls while screaming cat noises all over the house. He's a nice big guy but doesn't have any belly despite what the photos may show on a scrunchup:



And then there is Shiloh the runt, little Sweet Babycakes - she eats a bit and then goes off to brawl her brother in a play fight or go race over the house as the "White Blur" or go perch at a window. Or go disappear for a snooze in a tiny place you will never find. Jeez, we love that little girl at my house:



But the momcat is a food whore and I'm thinking her time in the street as a feral cat and a young raped girl working for food in the street has her nuts for food as a house cat.

Mister Mittens jumped upon my desk just as I was going to bed. She wants to eat after three sold meals, kibble, and "treats" today.

She's ain't getting nuthin'.

See those little front paws in the photo? Those things can get huge when spread out with the razor-sharp claws and if you pet her where she doesn't like it during the day she can show them to you while baring fangs and hissing.

Breakfast time before dawn? - That's when Mister Mittens becomes a Boom-Boom Girl out of the 1960s, a true hustler.

You get warm female breath upon your face. You get a nice cool nose rubbed across your face. You get soft pink paws (claws in) worked across your face.

And then when you wake up and scream out, "Cat whore sonuvabitch!" the cat will be gone like a rocket and already be sitting by her feed dish downstairs waiting for you to go pee and dole out breakfast.

At my age and with my exprience one would think that I could do better with young female hustlers.

She is smart to turn her back on Penn National, that place is full of notorious juice trainers

Take a cue from the #4 on the screen,"no point in arguing"