A pair of flip flops are delivered into his lair also known as my apartment they have been coated with some dust from alongside a lake, where wild things roam then washed in the lake, just for his enjoyment and he tears into them, kicking and biting in the morning, they are presented to me in a new style: the corrugated look a bug he's found on the patio and killed is brought in and he sets it down in the middle of the living room freshly vacumed rug shows it off well then back to more stylizing Last year's Walmart's purple flip flops are now objects d'art and now eating the expensive hypo-allergenic food meant for the old cat, his foster father/mother who used to chew off his whiskers when he was a kitten and then, time for nap