He looks like a rabbit, sleeping in such contentment that the very word ought be changed to "cat-tentment". The sheen of his grey and white coat gleams as a silent rebuke for my delay in taking him to the vet.
His ears are like pop-ups in a children's book, their insides looking like the undersides of seashells - shiny and pink. Three black dots adorn the tip of his nose which we named, "The Father, Son & Holy Ghost" until one day the Holy Ghost disappeared. He will cover his eyes with his paws when sleeping, or maybe it is just to keep his nose warm. His paws each have one pink pad fallen from the rest, the obverse of an undescended testicle.
The thin line of his closed mouth extends far beyond what one would assume was necessary for eating or licking, the two activities other than sleeping he engages in. The line runs parallel to his nose and eyes until there's a sudden curve upward, to the north, forming a smile. Declawed, he relies on other methods for survival, like the blind who develop acute hearing. He makes noise - he purrs louder than other cats when happy and makes loud mewling noises when not.
Nearby the Great Obi lies, the dog's two personalities (i.e. eater of skateboarders but lover of family) expressed by his body parts: the tawny, deer legs with his black bear body.
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