My little teenage son!

No, my love child didn't show up on my doorstep. I'm talking about Brody the cat.
For me, animal names tend to evolve, and lately I've taken to calling Brody, "my teenage son", because
I love him so much, even though he's always cursing me out and running away from me.
He didn't used to be like that, but somewhere along the way, our relationship changed.
He used to be so affectionate when he was younger, and when we played fetch, he could never get enough.

It's not that he hates me now, it's just that everything has to be on his terms.
If I'm sitting with my feet up, he'll jump up and lay on my legs forever. But if I try to pet him, he growls and runs away.

But still, I love my teenage son, and he holds a place in my heart that none of the other cats can.

When I met my wife, she already had 3 cats, and you know how it can be when a man takes a woman's cats on as his own...

I really get along with Rick, and there's nothing wrong with the other 2, though I feel there's a rift... Different cultures, different values... I have nothing disparaging to say.

One day, shortly after Katrina, I went into a house that had been abandoned for many years.
The kitchen wall was squeeking!

"Hang on I'm coming for you little guy!" And I busted through the sheetrock and liberated the tiniest kitten I ever saw. He was so small I carried him home in my shirt pocket.

You raise them from nothing and then they grow up and break your heart... But still, I love my teenage son!

Brody, Brody! Look at me when I talk to you...Don't you flaunt me!