This is my cat Pink Floyd, or Pretty Boy Floyd depending on who you talk to, but don’t talk to them because his name is Pink Floyd.
We can’t actually remember when we got him but it could have been when I was 16, so I guess that would make him about 8-years-old or something. He is a real arsehole, let me tell you why.
Gypsy, in her old age and fragile mental state, has developed a serious gambling problem. This is an issue because she’s in her twilight years and has a lot of time on her hands and not that much money.
Floyd has taken advantage of this and started an illegal dice ring in our back yard and now Gypsy is in serious debt. We thought it had stopped but the other day Gyps told me saw Floyd leaning against the fence with one leg propping him up, casually throwing dice in the air and catching them again. I asked if he was wearing a fedora and said she didn’t know what that was but he was wearing a funny hat.
I can not confirm or deny the cats rumoured status as a pimp, but the vague description of the hat makes me wonder.
There is an all white cat who comes over and eats his dinner most nights, I’m not sure what this is about but I assume it’s gang related also.
Open the door, come on in. Let the animal party begin!