Early this morning, Albert the Kat (He’s the good cat) was being chased, back-and-forth, across my bed at 3 a.m. by Cousin Rusty the Kat, the latest addition to the Katz family, yet another orange and white cat that thinks it should be treated like royalty.
To tell the truth – and I almost always do – I don’t get along with Rusty, who wasn’t invited here at the Stately Motley Manor. He must have snuck in the back door when nobody was looking.
What’s new, Pussycat? Whoa, whoa, whoa-oh. What’s new, Pussycat? Whoa, whoa, whoa-oh. Pussycat, pussycat, I’ve got flowers and lots of hours to spend with you, so go powder your cute little pussycat nose. Pussycat,Pussycat, I love you, yes I do, you and your pussycat nose. (“What’s New Pussycat” – Tom Jones – 1965)
Then, I was annoyed again around 5 a.m. today only to discover Rusty’s furry behind staring at my face. Yes, this is the same fe-lion who tromped across Rhea’s keyboard when she was typing last week. I must introduce him to Albert’s girlfriend, Cousin Zelda. We may never get rid of this ungrateful cat after he gets a taste of Zelda’s home-cooked Batwings.
Orange-and-white cats must think they rule the world. All I can say is Hurrumph!
Keep it flyin’,
Uncle Mott
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