Who Is That Freak?

Tonight I was happily winding around the legs of Typing Slave as she and Food Slave puttered around the kitchen preparing their dinner when I noticed a big fat hairy STRAY outside the back door! I hate strays on my back porch! I attacked the glass, as is my wont, but the stray just stood there and cried and looked all pitiful and cold. Typing Slave hastened to my side (good slave) to investigate the ruckus and turns out the stray was Big D, who had escaped while Food Slave and Pink Thing were outside grilling meat.

Okay, the slaves think the stray is Big D and the stray certainly seems at home in my domicile, but I’m not convinced. It’s hours later, and I’m still stalking the STRAY, hissing, and fluffling my tail. Invasion of the catbody snatchers, much? This could be the beginning of the end. You mark my words. And I don’t know where the slaves get off calling me a “freakish menace” when all I’m doing is protecting what’s mine from the aliens.

One thought on “Who Is That Freak?”

  1. Well, it’s been a week now. Has
    the alien intruder’s identity been established yet? Is Big D still missing? I also spend big chunks of my waking hours protecting my domicile. If another cat, dog or whatever so much as strolls past our yard, it puts me in an ugly mood. “Ever Vigilant” is my motto!

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