Heavy Hangs the Head That Wears The Crown

[Gunboat1]

My beloved tripod tuxedo cat had an "adventure" yesterday.  Hope you find this amusing.  GB1

 

 

Heavy Hangs the Head That Wears The Crown

by Otway, Feline Regent of Tennessee

 

I am sufficiently recovered from my latest incident to put pen to parchment and relate the events of the past 24 hours to you. I also hope to provide you with some useful target indicators, in the hopes of preparing you to better defend your own kingdoms.

Yesterday began like any other morning here in my mountaintop kingdom. I awoke Dad in the usual way at 0500, running across his chest with a firm “Meeowr!” and then snuggling close to him, purring and gently pressing a paw against his face a few times, perhaps issuing a few gentle nips to his exposed forearms until he also awakes. He is always gracious and pets me whilst assuring me of his undying affection, once he awakens. Knowing the appropriate routine, he issued me my morning treat, and freshened my food and water bowls. After eating, and as morning twilight was past and it was light outside, I asked to go out and patrol the kingdom, and he acquiesced as usual. Out I went to begin another day of regal responsibility.

But all was not well here. I quickly became aware of the presence of another intruder into my fenced yard. This was a curious individual, haughty, and strutting about as if he owned the place. Nattily dressed, the individual was wearing a black and white tuxedo, something like mine, so I initially extended the benefit of the doubt to the interloper, assuming that good manners and good breeding were indicative of the potential for respectful interaction. I felt it was my duty to investigate, as this is after all my exclusive domain. I approached the uninvited guest.

I immediately became aware of some subtle details which in retrospect should have placed me on higher alert. The scoundrel had a long, thin, pinched face – something like a feline Steve Buscemi. His body odor was clearly indicative of a serious lack of personal hygiene. And his tail was a dreadlocked, splayed feather duster, which no self-respecting cat would ever have appeared in public wearing. And to top it all off, the miscreant turned his back on me at my approach, lifting his tail and exposing his nether regions, clearly offering insult to my royal personage. This could not be civilly brooked, and I stepped closer to instruct the fool as to the expected standards of court behavior.

I am not entirely certain what happened next, as the details are still a bit fuzzy. But this much is clear. In direct violation of the Hague Conventions of 1899 and 1907, I was subjected to a chemical warfare attack. With no warning and at fairly close range, I was struck full in the face with a noxious effluent the likes of which I have never encountered before and I fervently hope never to experience again. I was enveloped by a stinging, reeking miasma of atomized funk, akin to the sulphurous emissions from hell which will herald Armageddon.

My eyes slammed shut, burning and blurred. My nose was overcome with the ungodly stench and I could do little to defend myself but crouch down in place and blindly suffer. All seemed lost.

In this diminished and supremely vulnerable state, I heard my ever-loving, ever-faithful Dad coming to my rescue at full speed. There was a sound like a mighty clap of thunder, and even through the overweening tide of fetid, putrid emissions, there came the unmistakable scent of blood in the breeze. At a measured distance of fourteen yards, the intruder was dispatched to the underworld from whence he apparently came, never to trouble this kingdom again.

The next few hours are but a blur. Dad put me in the hated carriage, and took me to see the Royal Physician about 45 minutes away. After an interminable period of waiting, I was placed in a plexiglass box and forced to inhale yet more noxious gas. I lost consciousness for a time. I am told that while I was asleep, I was bathed with a special shampoo and my beautiful green eyes were repeatedly flushed with saline solution and an ointment applied to each. My inoculations were verified as being up to date, and after a period of recovery I was allowed to return home.

The Royal Physician advised that the shampoo is only so effective, and that I would likely bear the lingering scent of this encounter for some time to come. I am ashamed to admit that this is the case. While most of me smells slightly perfumed from the shampoo, my face still subtly emits the nose-wrinkling odor of the demonic intruder. Dad says he never thought he would see the day when my front end would smell worse than my posterior (which, in my defense, I always keep scrupulously tidy by means known only to cats, and which I am therefore unable to disclose.) But he loves me anyway, and assures me that my reign is secure and my place in his heart intact.

After a few halting attempts to feed which ended in immediate emetic expulsion, I was able to keep a meal or two down and sleep through the night. I am much restored this morning and on a good footing to resume full royal duties. All is well, once you get past the slight smell lingering about the palace.

IMPORTANT INFORMATION: I offer this in the hopes that it will help you avoid a similar fate. It is now my belief that the intruder wore a tuxedo as camouflage, to enable his sneaking through court defenses, and getting close to my royal personage. But he was not sufficiently trained so as to do this imperceptibly. Look closely! In the event that an unknown interloper enters your kingdom WEARING A TUXEDO, BUT WITH IT DONNED BACKWARDS, DO NOT APPROACH! Call the Quick Reaction Force immediately, and even then, advise the responding guards to engage the intruder at a distance and from the front hemisphere only.

 

Yours most sincerely and affectionately,

 

Otway, Feline Regent of Tennessee

 

PS: Dad says the Nine Millimeter Parabellum cartridge works just fine on skunks.

[Swampfox762]

Most Excellent!!!! 

[DAKA]

2 hours ago, Gunboat1 said:

My beloved tripod tuxedo cat had an "adventure" yesterday.  Hope you find this amusing.  GB1

 

 

Heavy Hangs the Head That Wears The Crown

by Otway, Feline Regent of Tennessee

 

I am sufficiently recovered from my latest incident to put pen to parchment and relate the events of the past 24 hours to you. I also hope to provide you with some useful target indicators, in the hopes of preparing you to better defend your own kingdoms.

Yesterday began like any other morning here in my mountaintop kingdom. I awoke Dad in the usual way at 0500, running across his chest with a firm “Meeowr!” and then snuggling close to him, purring and gently pressing a paw against his face a few times, perhaps issuing a few gentle nips to his exposed forearms until he also awakes. He is always gracious and pets me whilst assuring me of his undying affection, once he awakens. Knowing the appropriate routine, he issued me my morning treat, and freshened my food and water bowls. After eating, and as morning twilight was past and it was light outside, I asked to go out and patrol the kingdom, and he acquiesced as usual. Out I went to begin another day of regal responsibility.

But all was not well here. I quickly became aware of the presence of another intruder into my fenced yard. This was a curious individual, haughty, and strutting about as if he owned the place. Nattily dressed, the individual was wearing a black and white tuxedo, something like mine, so I initially extended the benefit of the doubt to the interloper, assuming that good manners and good breeding were indicative of the potential for respectful interaction. I felt it was my duty to investigate, as this is after all my exclusive domain. I approached the uninvited guest.

I immediately became aware of some subtle details which in retrospect should have placed me on higher alert. The scoundrel had a long, thin, pinched face – something like a feline Steve Buscemi. His body odor was clearly indicative of a serious lack of personal hygiene. And his tail was a dreadlocked, splayed feather duster, which no self-respecting cat would ever have appeared in public wearing. And to top it all off, the miscreant turned his back on me at my approach, lifting his tail and exposing his nether regions, clearly offering insult to my royal personage. This could not be civilly brooked, and I stepped closer to instruct the fool as to the expected standards of court behavior.

I am not entirely certain what happened next, as the details are still a bit fuzzy. But this much is clear. In direct violation of the Hague Conventions of 1899 and 1907, I was subjected to a chemical warfare attack. With no warning and at fairly close range, I was struck full in the face with a noxious effluent the likes of which I have never encountered before and I fervently hope never to experience again. I was enveloped by a stinging, reeking miasma of atomized funk, akin to the sulphurous emissions from hell which will herald Armageddon.

My eyes slammed shut, burning and blurred. My nose was overcome with the ungodly stench and I could do little to defend myself but crouch down in place and blindly suffer. All seemed lost.

In this diminished and supremely vulnerable state, I heard my ever-loving, ever-faithful Dad coming to my rescue at full speed. There was a sound like a mighty clap of thunder, and even through the overweening tide of fetid, putrid emissions, there came the unmistakable scent of blood in the breeze. At a measured distance of fourteen yards, the intruder was dispatched to the underworld from whence he apparently came, never to trouble this kingdom again.

The next few hours are but a blur. Dad put me in the hated carriage, and took me to see the Royal Physician about 45 minutes away. After an interminable period of waiting, I was placed in a plexiglass box and forced to inhale yet more noxious gas. I lost consciousness for a time. I am told that while I was asleep, I was bathed with a special shampoo and my beautiful green eyes were repeatedly flushed with saline solution and an ointment applied to each. My inoculations were verified as being up to date, and after a period of recovery I was allowed to return home.

The Royal Physician advised that the shampoo is only so effective, and that I would likely bear the lingering scent of this encounter for some time to come. I am ashamed to admit that this is the case. While most of me smells slightly perfumed from the shampoo, my face still subtly emits the nose-wrinkling odor of the demonic intruder. Dad says he never thought he would see the day when my front end would smell worse than my posterior (which, in my defense, I always keep scrupulously tidy by means known only to cats, and which I am therefore unable to disclose.) But he loves me anyway, and assures me that my reign is secure and my place in his heart intact.

After a few halting attempts to feed which ended in immediate emetic expulsion, I was able to keep a meal or two down and sleep through the night. I am much restored this morning and on a good footing to resume full royal duties. All is well, once you get past the slight smell lingering about the palace.

IMPORTANT INFORMATION: I offer this in the hopes that it will help you avoid a similar fate. It is now my belief that the intruder wore a tuxedo as camouflage, to enable his sneaking through court defenses, and getting close to my royal personage. But he was not sufficiently trained so as to do this imperceptibly. Look closely! In the event that an unknown interloper enters your kingdom WEARING A TUXEDO, BUT WITH IT DONNED BACKWARDS,DO NOT APPROACH! Call the Quick Reaction Force immediately, and even then, advise the responding guards to engage the intruder at a distance and from the front hemisphere only.

 

Yours most sincerely and affectionately,

 

Otway, Feline Regent of Tennessee

 

PS: Dad says the Nine Millimeter Parabellum cartridge works just fine on skunks.

Well "PUT"

[holyjohnson]

That Right there is some Damn good Writing.

[Gunboat1]

38 minutes ago, holyjohnson said:

That Right there is some Damn good Writing.

Why, thank you, sir.  He's a very smart cat....within the limits of his experience.   He knows a hell of a lot more about skunks today than he did yesterday.   🙀 

[Redhookbklyn]

A superbly told story.

[21 shooter]

Lured in by the wiles of the infamous “2 tone kitty”.  Had a German Shepherd that aggravated a skunk one night.  He simply could not understand why he was persona non grata and house privileges were revoked.  You are a master storyteller sir.  

[inthefrey]

As  "Daddy" to 3 of these killing machines, this was an awesome Story! Thanks!

[Gunboat1]

Thanks for the kind words,  everyone. 

[Gunboat1]

Update:  his face is still a bit stinky, but he's doing great otherwise.  Good kitty.