Flogg

No one knows how he got the name Flogg. Perhaps it was the way his tiny, wobbly body moved with a clumsy, determined flap, or maybe it was an old joke that stuck. Whatever its origin, the name was as outsized as his personality, a bold, confident title for a creature that barely weighed a pound.<br/>Flogg arrived as a tiny storm cloud, all paws and pointy ears. His fur was a deep, rich black, so dark it seemed to pull in all the light around him, but his eyes were pure gold, two luminous coins set against a velvet sky. He was a brave, if slightly bumbling, explorer of his new world. A kitchen cupboard was a treacherous cave to be conquered. A stray shoelace was a dragon to be slain. He would charge at the vacuum cleaner, all puffed-up bravado, only to skitter away when it roared to life.<br/>But for all his feigned fierceness, Flogg's true nature was pure kitten sweetness. His purr is a tiny engine of contentment that only truly switched on when he is being held, his body molding into a warm, trusting loaf against a human chest. He has a habit of "making biscuits" on the softest blankets, his tiny claws kneading away, lost in a dream of comfort. His favorite game is a gentle wrestling match with a favorite toy mouse, which would inevitably end with him snuggling up to the toy for a nap.<br/><br/>As he grows, Flogg's playful and affectionate nature only deepens. He will wait by the door for his friends and handlers to return to the room, greeting them with a trilling meow and an acrobatic leap into their arms. He has become the shelters little black shadow, a constant and loyal companion who traded his fearsome name for endless cuddles and mischievous fun. And though he has grown from a tiny storm cloud into a majestic, sleek panther, his name, Flogg, always in our minds as a funny and affectionate reminder of the small, bold kitten who captured our hearts.If you would be interested in giving me a furever home, please contact The Humane Society of Adams County, Inc. at (937) 544-8585 to set up a time to come meet me and fill out an adoption application!

No one knows how he got the name Flogg. Perhaps it was the way his tiny, wobbly body moved with a clumsy, determined flap, or maybe it was an old joke that stuck. Whatever its origin, the name was as outsized as his personality, a bold, confident title for a creature that barely weighed a pound.
Flogg arrived as a tiny storm cloud, all paws and pointy ears. His fur was a deep, rich black, so dark it seemed to pull in all the light around him, but his eyes were pure gold, two luminous coins set against a velvet sky. He was a brave, if slightly bumbling, explorer of his new world. A kitchen cupboard was a treacherous cave to be conquered. A stray shoelace was a dragon to be slain. He would charge at the vacuum cleaner, all puffed-up bravado, only to skitter away when it roared to life.
But for all his feigned fierceness, Flogg's true nature was pure kitten sweetness. His purr is a tiny engine of contentment that only truly switched on when he is being held, his body molding into a warm, trusting loaf against a human ch

No one knows how he got the name Flogg. Perhaps it was the way his tiny, wobbly body moved with a clumsy, determined flap, or maybe it was an old joke that stuck. Whatever its origin, the name was as outsized as his personality, a bold, confident title for a creature that barely weighed a pound.
Flogg arrived as a tiny storm cloud, all paws and pointy ears. His fur was a deep, rich black, so dark it seemed to pull in all the light around him, but his eyes were pure gold, two luminous coins set against a velvet sky. He was a brave, if slightly bumbling, explorer of his new world. A kitchen cupboard was a treacherous cave to be conquered. A stray shoelace was a dragon to be slain. He would charge at the vacuum cleaner, all puffed-up bravado, only to skitter away when it roared to life.
But for all his feigned fierceness, Flogg's true nature was pure kitten sweetness. His purr is a tiny engine of contentment that only truly switched on when he is being held, his body molding into a warm, trusting loaf against a human chest. He has a habit of "making biscuits" on the softest blankets, his tiny claws kneading away, lost in a dream of comfort. His favorite game is a gentle wrestling match with a favorite toy mouse, which would inevitably end with him snuggling up to the toy for a nap.

As he grows, Flogg's playful and affectionate nature only deepens. He will wait by the door for his friends and handlers to