My Cat Named BobBob is dysfunctional. He's a terrorist. I'm serious about this. In order to contain him; he wears a bright blue harness with reflectors and 4 bells that jingle and jangle whenever he moves.
He's a gray manx with a pink nose, bright green eyes and an affinity for destruction.
He eats plastic bags so I always have to remember to request paper. When I'm trying to sleep he does his utter most tornado impression. Sometimes he attacks my desk chair, biting and clawing at the arms; kicking it with his hind legs.
He's chubby as garfield and conniving as a spy. His voice is high pitched like an elf. He's also a bully, and he gets off on intimidating my other animals, but he is pretty awesome and I can't remember what life was like without him.
He used to like to escape outside where he would hide for several hours in a high up place watching me desperately searching for him until I cried so hard my eyes felt like they could bleed.. He always returned the second I was about to pass out from exhaustion, mocking me with a high pitched chirp.
Now that I'm onto him though, I always put him in my bedroom before opening any doors.
He's an awesome cat.