Now That's a Nice Fucking Kitty

This past week, I adopted a cat from my sister's coworker. Her father had passed away and left 4 cats without a home, and me being sans-pet decided to take one of them in. By the time I got everything cleared with the brother the only cat left was a 2-year old orange tom cat named "Tom Kitty". This name reeked of lame and had to go, so we started calling him "Taft" after the U.S.'s fattest president. Taft is pretty skittish still, but has come around quite a bit (doesn't bolt at the mere sight of me. It's kind of nice having something around the house that's perhaps even more perpetually terrified of life than I (as my early mid-life crisis continues).