Hey, that’s my box!

 ” I’ll tell you what,” says Hamie, “this driech November weather isn’t much fun for a girl. I mean, it’s so muddy out there (I blame those flat-footed, waddling things personally) that even life’s essential outdoor activities result in one’s paws getting in a dreadful state, the endless washing of them being quite exhausting! And that’s not the only problem. That young whippersnapper doesn’t appear to like the wet either. The young today, where’s their sense of adventure for goodness sake? Go climb a tree, pester the mice in the log-pile, STAY OUT OF MY SPACE! I mean honestly, I just find myself able to sneak into the out-of-bounds bedroom to attend to one’s paws and other damp bits and who decides to do the same thing? Really, one can only remain civil for so long and then action must be taken! Like invading her BOX!”

“Hey, that’s MY box!”

” And what are you going to do about it small-fry?”

“Well maybe I’ll just poke you out…

…or creep in behind you and PUSH you out!”

“Not on your nellie you patchy wee pest!”


“On second thoughts, you can keep the thing; far to cramped and rustic for such a purrrfectly, pulchritudinous pussy as oneself dear girl. Come back tomorrow for another lesson in WHO’S BOSS!”


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3 Responses to “Hey, that’s my box!”

  1. cecilia Says:

    Your cats talk too and with a delightful accent! Patchy Pest! fantastic.. have a lovely damp weekend then! v

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