We stole him from our neighbors, a couple of knuckleheaded girls who kept putting him outside in subzero weather because he was "too noisy." One very cold day the poor little guy (hardly more than a kitten) was howling outside the front door of our fourplex, and we took him in, cleaned him up, had him neutered and treated for worms and ear mites, and told our asshole, neglectful neighbors (who didn't even ask around about him for several days of cold weather) we hadn't seen him. I feel no guilt for this act of larceny. Not a bit.

So anyhow, Charles was probably not the sharpest knife in the drawer but he was very friendly and occasionally weird. One of his favorite things to do was stalk and "kill" balloons. We'd blow them up and he'd pop them with his claws, which he seemed to think was great fun. But we had to take the balloon corpse away from him immediately or he'd eat it, which resulted in an unusually colorful litter box.

He was a sweetheart. He lived to be 21. He's been gone for 20 years but I still miss him because he was so sweet and so goofy.