Hank Beaches Himself

 

          Hank chugged along for awhile and, surprisingly, it was actually a calm trip.  Usually, riding with Hank involved ups and downs, waves and yowling.  Mike and Tigger had a blast- the purring was loud and Fuzzy found herself relaxing until Hank just stopped.

          He literally stopped at the first sighting of land.

          Fuzzy couldn’t believe it and if you’re wondering where the walrus was, nobody knew.  The dude just disappeared.  How in the meow a big, fat walrus disappeared was a mystery and now, there was the Hank problem.

          “What did you stop for?”  Fuzzy yowled.  “I thought we were heading for home,” she slid off his back with the other kitties intent to give Hank a piece of her mind.

          But Hank was snoring.  Oh meeee-ow!  Hank was sleeping again.  Whiskers twitched and Tigger offered to give another yowl but Fuzzy tail swished him off, “No, don’t do that, the poor dude was tired.  Where are we anyway?”

          All kitties took a look and took note of the golden sands and the rocky cliffs”  Paw-viously, they were on a different beach, at least Fuzzy hoped so.  “Oh meee-ow, did Hank swim to the other side of the island?”

          Mike’s whiskers twitched excitedly.  “Holy meows we’re in Ireland!” 

          Fuzzy and the rest of the gang just stared at Mike, surprised.  “Are you sure?”  Fuzzy asked.