...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...

Friday, November 2, 2012

Guardian of The Tray

A[nother] Reminiscence

We were enjoying breakfast in bed, replete with tea and Mummy’s apple pancakes, maple syrup, crisp-tender bacon, buttery eggs with parmesan – YUM! Uh, where was I?  

Oh yes – we were enjoying breakfast in bed when Young Mosby got the bright idea that he was invited to the feast – the hound! Mummy and Dad both told him “No! Get back!” and “This is Augustus’ breakfast!” (Well, they didn’t actually SAY that part - it was implicit) but little Mosby simply would not listen. 

After watching his belligerent behavior (and observing Mummy pushing him back repeatedly with her paw to no avail), I decided to take matters in hand: I rolled over to get into a better position for KP (Kitten Patrol), and as soon as he lunged toward the tray again, I impeded his progress with one of my great paws, thinking surely this was sufficient to teach him a lesson. 

But back he came, repeatedly! 

After several attempts at being nice, I finally had enough of this young squirt! 

I sat up. 

Mosby advanced toward the tea tray one last time….I crouched and made ready. 

He inched forward, keeping one eye cocked my direction but not making any sudden moves. I lowered my head; he reached his teensy foot out, and that was the last straw as They say (who “They” are I don’t know - Mummy speaks of them often). I swooped down, pinning him to the bed.  He squiggled for a bit then lay still. Mummy and Dad said what a good thing I did, guarding the tea tray like that. 

Dad called me a “Fine Furry Fellow!”

 Mosby fell asleep, and I went back to looking cute, waiting for my plate. 

Some kids just need to learn manners.

I s’pose, as official Guardian of the Tray, I should think about getting a uniform. 
I wonder what color? 
Gray, I think. 
Yup, gray it is!

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