This is Trey. He's 3 years old & he's my baby. I got him my Junior year in college because I really wanted a dog and my parents told me I couldn't have one in their apartment that I was living in. Instead, my roommate and I were walking around Petsmart (I can't remember why) and they had a litter of 6 6 week old tuxedos. They had them split into boys and girls, and we wanted the girls. I should've known something was wrong when I pulled "her" (yes, I said her) out of the crate and she climbed ALL over & yelped like a crazy kitty. She was crazy. And still is. My roommate took home her "sister". We named them Trea & Dior. We took them to the vet for their checkups and found out they weren't Trea & Dior, but Trey & Hide. Boys. My roommate ended up giving hers to a better family because she traveled so much, she couldn't take care of Hide, but my Little Man kept me company for the next two years, until I graduated. He has clawed my mom's $800 living room chair, he's ruined a couch because he vengefully pooped on it when I left him for an entire weekend, he's climbed more than 35 feet up trees THREE times, and he's been in more cat fights than I can count. He sprouts a new white patch everytime he stresses out: the first time he climbed a tree, his first visit to the kennel, when we got married and moved. But I love the little sucker. Like no other. My Little Man:
Our other little

















