... and that is saying quite a lot.
Perhaps it was born laden with this appalling smear of gray, which gives the appearance it just ran through a dust storm or under some dirty drapes. The eyes! It slinks around too, lurking by the dumpsters in front of my hotel. I noticed it last Friday, standing there, barking at me and the cab driver, making us both laugh. It is quite cheerful, if insistent and overly talkative. I can hear it yowling out there now, through two hotel floors, thick windows and over the air conditioning, short staccato bursts without an space between them, forming a sort of monotone: "Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow."
I think it makes an excellent addition to the neighbourhood. If anyone can think of a name, I am all ears. (Sort of like our friend here)
I dub him/her Mickey, in honour of Mickey Rourke's disheveled return to glory.
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