...Er, um, Hello!

My name is Augustus. I have parents. Sometimes life can be difficult. I possess the great skill of being able to charm the socks off of anyone who chances to spot me, a rare occurrence indeed. [The spotting, that is; not the charming!]
However, for you, Dear Reader, I am prepared to divulge my deepest thoughts and perspective of the world, mostly because if I don't tell somebody what is going on around here, I am going to pop!
But be warned, proceed with caution: Living with Mummy and Dad can be rather harrowing at times...

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

My Tail’s Tale


My friends will hardly believe it but this day my tail was viciously attacked by a whacking great brute of a kitten named Morgan, or Baby Morgan as Mummy calls him. You know, like Baby-face Nelson and countless others of that squad of vile cretins bent on savagery.
We were in the chair by the window, my tail and I, happily watching the world go by. Or, at least, watching the breeze blow idly through the ivy leaves, cleverly turning them upside down here and there, seemingly bent on a thorough inspection before passing on to whatever activities it had planned down the road….
Where was I?
Oh, yes. It matters not what we were doing but rather what the scoundrel Morgan was up to: viz. making a mad dash from across the room (completely unprovoked, mind you), sliding under the chair like he had hit a homer, then flashing up all teeth and claws to grab my poor, innocent, fluffy (did I mention beautiful?) tail.
At first we pretended not to notice, as we gentle-cats-and-tails do. Not wishing to make a scene, my tail merely flicked at the beast in annoyance, hoping he would go haunt someone else. But after 3 or 4 sessions of grabbing, clawing and, ultimately, biting, I was compelled to intervene on behalf of my down trodden tail.
Being pretty big, not to mention being seen from an ant’s eye view, has its advantages. The next time the Miniature Marauder made his appearance in a final effort to nab my tail and presumably make off with it (he has a tail of his own, confound him; why doesn’t he go and chew on it?), he came face to face with Gussie Grey, the Bold Avenger! I lit into him like a windmill in a tornado and sent his fuzzy self scurrying to Mummy, who said I was right to defend my tail. Somebody had to, she said.
All is peaceful now as I settle back into my evening routine of staring out the window, tail tucked neatly beside me, all ready for a nap. What Morgan was thinking when he began his fell deed I cannot say but he has learned a valuable lesson this day:
Don’t mess with a cat’s tail! 

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