Yeah, National Pet Day was yesterday, but the abundance of good boys in our timelines made us eager to share the floofs pouncing throughout our own abodes. Below, enjoy a few pics of The A.V. Club’s unofficial mascots, all of whom should be adorable enough to have you trotting right to your local shelter.
Laura M. Browning
Ballew is a Trash Wolf and has required two surgeries to remove foreign objects (so far). He loves long runs, kisses, extreme cold, and eating paper towels.
Monte is my orange tabby and Clarabelle is my tiny cow-spotted floof. Monte can high-five on command, which always makes him a hit at the vet’s office. Clarabelle does not work for food, but will happily jump on my shoulders and curl up around my neck, which is nice during Chicago winters.
Oscar is our 11-year-old pug mix. He’s blind now, so his eyes are milky white, which I think adds to his abundant photogenic charm. We clap loudly so he can move from the couch to the food bowl without bonking his head, and he can still jump up on the couch with only a little help from us. Those are his real teeth (or as we call them, “nubs”).
Roxy is 21, or maybe 22. We’re not sure, because she was a Brooklyn street cat who jumped through the window of the bathroom at the place my old roommate was bartending at 15 years ago. Roxy was a tough, untrusting bastard who didn’t like anyone, especially me when I first moved in. But after I adopted her once my roomie got pregnant and moved out, Roxy started to warm up to me—after a year, she’d stay in the same room. After two, she’d sit at the other end of the couch. After four years, she was sleeping at the foot of the bed. And now, in her elderly senior days, she sleeps curled next to me every night. It was a hard fought battle, but very worth it. She still hates you, though.
Seamus is a good boy 88% of the time. He enjoys cuddles, running in open fields, stealing socks, gutting his stuffed toys, watching the rain from his back porch, and eating out of the garbage.
Kelsey J. Waite
Our boy cat, Hawthorne, is actually a really bad cat—he terrorizes us daily. But when the weather’s nice and there’s a ton of sun coming into the house, as on this recent spring-ish day, he becomes 100% dreamsicle.
We call our chatty calico, Kalypso, “the supervisor” for the way she bosses everyone around all the time. And though she’s small, she tends to take over the house, sprawling out in the center of whatever room she’s in.
Michelle Visage is a floof diva that demands to go outside daily but refuses to wear a leash. She loves lounging on paper bags, flaunting her belly, hissing at the vacuum cleaner, and chittering at birds.
You are welcome, now please go save, love, and relentlessly photograph a good dog or kitty of your own.