This is Dev. Which is short for Devil, which is short for Devilicious.
He has earned the name Devil, and is sometimes known as “the bag of dicks.”
He beats up on kittens. He purposefully sits with his back towards you and, if you try to pet him, he’ll get up and walk away without even looking at you.
If your wallet’s missing after a visit to my sister’s house cancel your credit cards, and for god’s sake if he owes you money take it in cash, don’t let him write you a check.
On the other hand, he has earned the delicious part of his name because he’s the most delightful bag of dicks I’ve ever met.
Clearly, he has the best grumpy face EVER.
He has a Super Fantastic Purr that I can’t stop recording. It’s not so much a purr as it is a song, or a chirp.
When he does want to be petted, he’ll throw himself on the ground at your feet and roll about. If you ignore him and walk away, he WILL follow you, only to throw himself at your feet again three steps later.
He’s very selective, apparently. Wendy tells me he picks his people carefully. So when he cuddles up to me, or strops my legs, or bomps me in the head with his face, I feel like a tenth-grader whose crush returns her feelings. I am a dork, falling over myself to get him to like me.
He has a little overgrooming issue, which lead to the unfortunate nickname (from me, uh, sorry to say) of Boardshorts. I guess just because I like him doesn’t mean I’m always nice.
If he was just a bag of dicks, he wouldn’t be getting special treatment, but since I admittedly love him to pieces, I’ve been giving him “distraction therapy.” Every minute he’s distracted is one less minute to lick himself.
He likes to be up high so he can see things, and he LOVES to be inside of bags. So we stuffed him in a backpack and took him on a walk, and then on a bike ride.
Wendy and I think he enjoyed himself. Here he is afterwards. I think he likes the backpack. I think, perhaps, he’s claimed it. What do you think?