Until kitty realizes he can't swim. Then it's too late. That's the price I pay for suiting up at Seaport Village, not for the money that could be made busking, no. I'll leave that for the silver robot and Spongebob Squarepants to reap the benefits of.

And as long as I stay out of areas that haven't been marked 'Private Property' and 'No Photography Allowed, especially all the cool kitties', it's all pretty good. Mostly. Which brings up a rather poignant question.

What could kitty be thinking? Perhaps the three years or so of officially being in the furry fandom. Who'd have thought that I'd become a fursuiter? Aside from the heat, which is bearable, it's actually turned out to be fun...

Darn, I can't come up with a story like Dog Bomb. He's to awesome. I can only come up with Gonzo-esque tales of my shenanigans and things that I do to throw people off. Which I could very well do from now on. Or not.

Photo taken at Seaport Village, San Diego, CA, with the help of  Brown_Wolf