This is our cat, Jack. He's also known, variously, as Captain Jack (for the black eye patch), Fat Jack or Hungry Jack (for obvious reasons), or Jack-Ass (for disturbing the domestic tranquility of the Buster Gammons household).
Jack is still not a year old, but he's already enjoyed a lifetime of mischief. Among his many achievments:
He plays the piano.
He types gibberish on my computer and tries to attack the cursor.
He has somehow pulled up Facebook on my wife's computer.
He eats flower arrangements and knocks over the vase to drink the water. (Does not mop up.)
In the middle of the night, he has turned on the water in the kitchen sink. (Doesn't turn it off -- water is running in the morning.)
He turns on lights. (Fluorescent fixture with a pull chain above the dryer.)
On the losing end (literally) of a cat fight, was bitten in the behind. The other cat tore him the proverbial new one. Nuthin' a couple hundred bucks at the vet can't fix.
He found an unopened back-up bag of cat food on the basement work bench, somehow ripped the bag open and ate his fill.
When using the litter box, Jack is like a shortstop turning the doubleplay -- it's the old "neighborhood" play. His aim is in the neighborhood of the box.
Jack is a true omnivore, eating anything and everything as often as possible. But he simply adores bread and butter. He chews through the plastic bag to eat the loaf inside. And he's broken several covered butter dishes. He pushes them off the counter, they shatter on the floor, and he jumps down to lick the butter.
We're gonna get him a toaster for Christmas!
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