Last night I had a ginormous takeout zucchini burrito from Villa Pancho Taqueria. No cheese, no sour cream, lots of guac, totally vegan—although it pays to double-check, since some places have a funny idea about what constitutes vegan food (e.g. another local Mexican place lists a shrimp burrito amongst their vegan options).
The mustachioed would-be burrito thief is Tycho, a former Red Hook stray. Our friends T & C took him in when he walked into their apartment one day, drooled happily all over them, and refused to leave. He was skinny, had worms, and had been declawed by his cruel and moronic previous owners. T & C put up Found Cat posters but no one came forward. They were pretty attached to him by now, but their landlord wouldn’t let them have pets, so we said we’d look after him. We already had two cats, so the way Rob tells it, we were just fostering this third cat until we found him another home—after all, once you have three cats in a small Brooklyn apartment, you’re those people. However, I suspected we were those people, and sure enough, cat #3 stayed.
Tycho has a few odd habits we attribute to his life on the streets: he acts desperate around food and will eat all sorts of crap, the grosser the better. A sink baffle covered in disgusting gunge is his idea of Fancy Brunch. A few months ago he threw up half of a large piece of black rubber, and after a day of searching we finally figured out that he’d crawled into the dishwasher, ripped out a washer, and eaten it; I’m not sure where the other half went. He’s also utterly fearless (possibly because at this point he’s 23% rubber). And you can tell we love him because he once turned on a faucet while we were out and flooded the apartment in such a dramatic way that we had to replace half the living room floor—and yet he’s still alive!
You’ll also notice he’s on our kitchen counter. That’s a bit gross. The other two cats know not to get up there, but Tycho is always so nuts around food that we’ve never been able to keep him from jumping up. Rest assured, however, that he did not get his sad, clawless mitts on my burrito. (And if you ever come over for dinner, please know that I pick every individual cat hair from each plate before serving. JK! I totally leave that shit in there.)