1
It started with a poo.
Not in the litter tray. Next to the litter tray.
About four inches away, which is somehow worse than a mile.
2
Then he looked up.
No shame. No apology. Just a slow, withering side-eye that said: "Yep. And what?"
The man on the other end of that stare was Steven, a British designer who had made the mistake of owning him. He went and got a pen.
3
One sketch became a hundred.
Every time Ken ruined something, he got drawn. The sofa. The plant. The Christmas tree. The good chair.
Turns out everybody has this cat. Or knows someone who does. Or is one.
4
Now he's on your mug.
Cards, mugs, notebooks, phone cases. Ken has escaped the sketchbook and got into the merchandise.
He is not grateful. He would do all of it again.
