o last night I was leaving work around 8:30 and meandering out of the parking deck when I saw a tiny beast dart under a parked van. The creature looked like it would make for a tasty snack on the drive home, so I stopped. It turned out to be a kitten. I'd guess it to be about 8 weeks old and about two pounds of striped fury. He (she?) crawled up on top of the tire under the van and gave me the stink eye from under the fender. He meowed a lot and eventually let me pet him. I called Sally to figure out whether I should rid the streets of the furry threat or leave him to feast on unsuspecting ankles. You can imagine my shock when she chose the former option.

I've named him (and decided a gender, apparently). I call him "The General" because had I not brought him home he might have found his way to an unsavory house of Sino-American food and become a menu item - more specifically a tiny order of General Tso's Chicken. So that's his name.

Anyhow, we're not keeping him, regardless of a near toxic level of cuteness. So I'm looking for a home for him, post-haste. Check out the photos, and imagine him making bread on you while you're watching Oprah, or whatever. He knows how to use the litter box, and Sally & I will get him checked out at a vet and get him all caught up on shots. He's also quite wily with a game we call "Get the String."

So come on. Show your support for housing troops under your roof and give The General a home. This offer is limited until the next time Sally forgets to stock me up on Hot Pockets.