We figure Bentley is roughly 18+ years old and came to us as a stray in 1993. He's out-lived two other cats, two birds and four dogs. Now he's all fur and bones, deaf, donning a wonky eye, has remarkable halitosis, some broken front teeth, a dumb tail, anger and defiance issues, and has been drawing on unemployment benefits for years now, but dadgumit, I love him to pieces.
My mom used to get a kick out of my "in memoriam" plans for Bentley. I will first dry out his osteoporotic bones in order to make a wind-chime that will hang and clink in the kitchen window. Then I will fashion his silky paws into a key-chain ornament (and not his whole arm, mind you, just his paw. Anyone who would pull out of their purse a long and skinny cat arm with a ring of keys, quite frankly, needs help).
Anyone out there scared yet? Well, simmer down now, those are just thoughts. I have no immediate plans to market those ideas to the public or to carry them out in private. Plus, mom thought it was hilarious and if there is one thing you can be sure of, it's a mothers sound judgement regarding their children's sanity and physical attractiveness.
By the way, Bentley can be summoned by any one of these names:
And here he is with the devil in him.
Bentley likes to pretend he could make it "out there" again but he doesn't like grass, noise, other people, other animals, searching for his next meal, searching for water, et cetera.
Here we are dancing. As a side note, I am completely normal and am in need of your friendship more now than ever. Obviously.
... And here is Bentley getting wind of the post-mortem plans I have for him.
*This is excludes Simba, Little Cat, Tux, Zachary, and Otis.