Then I look out across my field and what do I see? It's that good-for-nothing repurrobate, Uno. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
Well that just furrosts my nostrils, let me tell you. And you know an affurront like that cannot go unanswered.
So, I puffed up my tail and stood my back furs on end, and I chased that pussy up a tree. And then I ran up after him!
And my mom and dad tried to get me to come down and leave Uno alone, but nothing doing. My plan was to stay up there all night if I had to.
I'll kick your tail, Uno! You have crossed my field for the last time!
Only then, my mom came out with the dreaded squirt bottle, and I'm telling you my furriends, I hate the squirt bottle worse than I hate, um, hm...let me think. Well, let's just say I hate it more than I hate Uno. So I gave out a furrsome yowl and a hefty hiss, and I left that weakling shivering in his paws.
Now here I sit grounded in kitty jail. Bummer. I'll save my Uno wrath for another day, I suppose.
This little pipsqueak was no help at all.
It's a cat's life, and that's all there is to it.
Like I keep saying, my furriends. The news is not good, and it gets worse all the time. When a cat can't purrtect his own propurrty, something has gone horribly wrong.