The Trouties just stared at Casey like he just meowed out the stupidest thing known to cat-kind. They really didn’t see what the issue was and well to be purr-fectly honest, you really couldn’t blame them. If they thought that Daisy was a dangerous nip dealer then there really shouldn’t be any kind of issue.
Casey really wouldn’t get his fur into such an uproar about it but he was just in one of those meowy moods of his. He had this thing about being kept in the dark. It made him pawsitively crazy. So, he repeated his question, “Why didn’t you cats meow anything about this?”
“Whatz da bigz deal?” the Mayor asked. “Nowz you know and therez no problem.”
Now, who really knew what was bugging Casey. Maybe he got too much sand in his fur- who knows? But this kitty was in the mood to argue. “Smokey could’ve gotten in big trouble,” he yowled at the Mayor.
Smokey wasn’t in the mood to be slammed in the middle with a bunch of boys. They were to grumpy for her taste and that’s what they were to her- boys! Their meow-tones were just making her whiskers twitch propeller style. “I can take care of myself,” she meowed. “I dunno why you guys are acting like kittens about the whole thing!”