Fuzzy was shaking.
Do you blame the kid? Seriously,
do you blame her? Who in the meow wanted
a walrus in their face. Anyway, Fuzzy
knew that she had to remain calm bepaws- well she was the big sister and for
meowing out loud she had to make her late stepdad, Casey, proud. She knew that she couldn’t show any fear.
“We’re looking for our friend,” Fuzzy meow-nounced,
regaining that cool, confident position.
“We were bought here bepaws this dude told us that our friend was sick,
and we had to get to him fast.” Fuzzy
wasn’t sure why she left out the walrus, it just seemed like a good idea. Besides that, the hippo seemed like he was
backing off somewhat.
“You’re here for Hank, right?” the hippos asked looking serious. “You’re the cats that hang out with Hank.”
Fuzzy didn’t like this and neither did any of the other
cats. Tigger and Mike even had their
whiskers stuck straight out at attention.
“What happened?” Fuzzy
asked. “Where’s Hank? Is he dead?”
“Hank better not be dead!”
yowled Toni getting all huffy and chub-like.
The big hippo eyed the kitties with a combination of surprise and skepticism. Do you blame the dude really? Who would’ve thought that cats would like
hanging out with a hippo? “Hank’s not
dead,” he said, “but he’s gonna be.”
gyz...we haz been off de grid sew long we will never ketchup with thiz storee !! hope thiz findz ewe all happee N healthee & doin soooper grate { did mom see de videe o; oh fiona catchin raindropz !! ☺☺♥♥
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