Sugarbutt, I am convinced, is the second coming of Tubby. He’s got the same barrel-chested bow-legged stance, and he’s a total pig. He’s figured out how to jump up onto the table, and from the table to the kitchen counters, where he can sniff around for something to eat. And when you’re eating, you need to keep a can of air handy, or he’ll just climb up into your plate and make himself at home.
He sure is cute. And no, we’re still not keeping him (though Fred does, half-jokingly, keep saying that we should put Miz Poo to sleep so we can keep Sugarbutt. At least I THINK he’s joking…). If anyone’s seriously interested in adopting him, let me know and I’ll give you the number to the shelter, and you can discuss it with the shelter manager.
The sweet, innocent “Who, me?” look.
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The bad boy look.
“Bring it ON, man. You see these claws? I will MESS you UP.”
“Hey lady, you want to lower that toy a little? We can’t REACH.”
“Brains. Braaaaaaaains!”