

My son is in his water bottle. Never bought an urn from the crematorium.
I don’t do drugs. I am drugs. --Salvador Dalí
My son is in his water bottle. Never bought an urn from the crematorium.
The chonky kitty was existing on a diet of cookies and soup when his pudgy plight was discovered, Newsflash reported.
It’s believed that hospital staff enjoyed feeding him to the point where things went more than a little overboard.
“Kroshik’s story is an extremely rare case when someone loved a cat so much that they fed him to such a state,” a spokesperson for the Matroskin Shelter in Prem explained.
tl;dw?
Mr fancy pants over here with his two buttons
The cremains came in a bag inside of a box made of corrugated plastic. His mother and I split the cremains in the parking lot of a seedy motel. My half went into a big gulp or similar cup until I got them into his water bottle (it is a nice metal one, not like a plastic disposable bottle).