Fuzzy's In Charge

 

          So, the kitties were in Ireland- or were they?  Fuzzy wasn’t quite sure and even after a couple of minutes Tigger and Mike seemed a little confused.

          “This isn’t Ireland,” Mike meowed to Tigger, looking worried.  As a meow of fact his whiskers were twitching in a really crooked direction. 

          “You sure?”  Tigger asked, looking around.  “That castle looks Irish.”

          “How can a castle look Irish?”  Toni asked innocently.  However, it was a purr-fectly reasonable question.  The kitty was, of course, just a little chub.

          Mike and Tigger weren’t paying attention to her.  They were in a deep argument about their location.  It was getting on Fuzzy’s meowing nerves.  “Would you two stop it!!!”  she yowled.  “You’re giving me a headache and a paw-ache.”  She was watching Sammie, Paws and Tippy out of the corner of her eye as they innocently sniffed and pawed around.  Phew, no trouble yet and she gave her full attention to Mike and Tigger.  “If we’re not in Ireland,” she meowed, “then where are we?”

          “Maybe you should wake up that hippo and ask,” Mike meowed with disgust.  “He’s the one that bought us here.”

          Fuzzy’s eyes narrowed.  “You don’t mess with Hank,” she meowed.  ‘If he’s sleepy- he’s going to sleep.  Again- WHERE DO YOU THINK WE ARE?”

          Mike was shocked at Fuzzy’s tone and so were the other kitties.  All eyes were on her as she swished her tail in disgust.  “Well,” she meowed, “I’m waiting.”