This is my cat, Bob.  He’s 12 years old.  We got him when Vinny was three.  My mother-in-law decided that Vinny needed a pet.  Keith was totally against pets, so I told my mother-in-law to go ahead and get him.   So I walked in to my house carring this cat with blue eyes and Keith says. 

“You got a dam cat.” 

That “dam cat” is now (and has been) Keith’s cat.  He’s a Ragdoll, and of course we keep him inside.  He sleeps just about anywhere, the steps, window sills, the back of the couches, the kitchen chairs, the hallway and the bathroom sink upstairs when it’s hot outside.  Which means I have hair everywhere.  He’s not afraid of the vacuum cleaner,  at all.  If I need him to move so I can vacuum the freakin cat hair that’s all over my house, I usually bump into him gently with the vacuum.  I don’t know why I bother, because he doesn’t move.  I have to bend over and pick him up so I can clean in that spot, then I just put him back down again.  Like you would a statue.  He’s a great pet, I just wish he could clean his own litter box.

All in all, He’s a beautiful creature with a snobby attitude.    He kind of reminds me of Jeffrey the Butler from “Fresh Prince.”  That’s what we should have named him, “Jeffrey the Butler.”