It's Possum's newest hangout. While it's charming, it's also promoting tooth decay. (If this keeps up, we'll need a second bathroom, which I normally think is a frivolous waste of space in a two-person household.) Possy will curl up there while I'm in mid-brush. I often walk around a little as I brush my teeth, not expecting anyone to be bathing in my sink when I return.
When I look at this starry-eyed pose, I can't help wondering why whoever neutered him (after he was trapped as a tiny feral kitten) chopped off half of his ear. A little, tiny notch was all that was necessary, just enough so the trappers at his colony would know he was altered if he got trapped again. Maybe his ear was already torn or injured. We'll never know.
Most of the time I hardly notice his ear because I'm too busy admiring his remarkable face. I'm so grateful he got himself trapped again, rescued, fostered, and listed on Petfinder.com so we could adopt him. What a lucky chain of events for all of us.
Our vet says the missing ear gives him "street cred" with other cats. Tough guy?
I don't know what cats think about it. But I wouldn't mind meeting this character in a dark alley.