17 years ago, when I was barely 13, and my baby sister was only 5, Gibbs the cat came to protect us from lizards and cockroaches, much like General from Stephen King's "Cat's Eye" came to protect a 10-year-old Drew Barrymore from a nasty looking evil troll, whose physical appearance would still haunt me today if not for the fact that I knew Gibbs would always be there for my sister and I.
Gibbs appeared to be a mean cat, seeing as he would bite anyone just for fun and then look at them with beady, shifty eyes, as if saying, "what you gon' do about it?", right before proceeding to lick his nut-sack while sitting lazily in the couch. He wasn't mean though, he was simply playful yet full of conviction, and he was training for the day when the troll would come.
