The Last Cat Dinner on the Storytree

It was a busy week, and it had taken Mr. Fuzzles a lot of time to finish up the year at Cat School. From kitty report cards to marking pet exams, the way that the end of the year was organized at his Cat School was terrible. He had finished late more than once a week, finalizing everything. He had barely had any time at all to get high on some catnip or play with Tigger. He had already one end of year feast planned for the following week. Unlike this one, he knew that his other kitten school would pay for everything. It was a kind of local tradition. They weren’t dogs, they were civilized. It was what was expected.

Cat School had finished the day before, and the rest of the cats were on break. Mr. Fuzzles still had a full day of teaching at the other cat school. It was actually a kitten school, so the kittens were pretty good. The only problem was that there were too many kittens in each class. However, it was a lot more relaxing and less stressful than Cat School. There’s always a need to minimize bullshit, no matter where you end up being a cat. Mr. Fuzzles had learned this a long time ago.

Boots, Beliebs, and Grumpykins had gone bowling with Mr. Angry. Honestly, Mr. Fuzzles wouldn’t have bothered. It was a bit of a pain to go out to these organized social events. He finished catting around at 5:30 and went to go see the vet for his sore throat. The vet was closing for some odd reason, so he had to find another, shittier, nearby vet. Instead of going to an overpriced cat feedery in the mall, he’d rather go find Booty and Tigger, play around with Yoda who was getting old. Apparently, Mr. Angry made everyone wait for him again. Mr. Fuzzles wasn’t surprised. It had happened to him many times before. He’d lost count on the amount of mice that he could have caught whilst waiting for Mr. Angry. This got especially bad when Mr. Angry indulged in sniffing catnip, which had happened a lot before.

He made sure that he left once he knew that everyone was on the way to the cat feedery. Experience had taught him never to arrive early anymore. Apparently, he hadn’t relaxed the variables enough, because he ended up being first again. He waited for Mr. Angry’s party and Mr. Angry’s wife to come for at least 20 minutes. All those mice couldn’t catch themselves.

It had been rainy, and unlike Tigger, Mr. Fuzzles didn’t like getting super wet. At least the rain had stopped. There was a problem once he arrived at the cat feedery; there was no venting. It was like sitting in a sauna. Or being forced to sit in the sun. Mr. Fuzzles knew that this wouldn’t end well. Mr. Angry was, well as him name implied, angry.

Mr. Angry had told everyone that they would split the bill. It was a bit ludicrous. Usually, Mr. Angry would pretend he was a big cat, and pay for everything everyone. But just like most of this semester, Mr. Fuzzles had learned to expect the least from the big cats in charge. He considered some catnip infused beef sirloin, but settled on some cheaper meatballs. It was an appetizer. He was gonna fill up a bit, then get a mice or two after dinner. It was the sensible thing to do.

The cat feedery was extremely hot. He liked watching the cats outside going on about their business. From ragdolls to Persians, they all came to spend their hard earned treats at the mall. After a long day, he wasn’t going to mince words with anyone. Mr. Angry arrived in a huff. He immediately proceeded to have a public argument with Mrs. Angry. It made him quite angry. Mr. Angry spent the rest of the night sipping some diluted catnip water, and not eating anything. Boots, Beliebs, Grumpykins and Mr. Fuzzles felt quite awkward and diffused the situation, at least between themselves, by swearing a lot and partaking in some overpriced appetizers.

It was probably not the best environment for Dumdum and Goggles, the two kittens of Mrs. Bornytub. She was always taking her stupid little kittens everywhere and spoiling them. Mr. Fuzzles wasn’t going to limit his talk to G-rated subjects, and swore away happily, hoping that Dumdum and Goggles would pick up some inappropriate language, and get into trouble.

After about 20 minutes, Mrs. Angry stormed off and left. Mr. Angry continued to simmer his anger with the same overpriced catnip water he had been drinking all night. Mr. Fuzzles just wanted this to end. It was too much, especially after a long week of hard work.

Boots, Beliebs and Grumpykins couldn’t believe that they were going to split the bill. Boots tried to hint to Mr. Angry about the situation. As usual, Mr. Angry couldn’t give a fuck. It was time for the dinner to end, but no one wanted to make the first move. When Tallie and Booty got up to leave, everyone followed suit, thankful for the opportunity to get the fuck away from here.

Mr. Fuzzles waited to pay. As usual, Mrs. Bornytub was arguing about the bill. She had spent triple the amount of money than everyone else spoiling Dumdum and Goggles. It had been a draining evening. It was like being at work. Mr. Angry hadn’t uttered a word all night. He spent the whole night staring into space. Mr. Fuzzles should have left midway through. It had been a terrible waste of time. The cat feedery had been extremely hot, the food had been overpriced and bland. It was time to end the misery.

As soon as Mr. Fuzzles got out, he left. There was no point in waiting around wasting even more time, waiting for Mr. Angry to decide where they would end the night. Probably some catnip bar in town. Mr. Fuzzles was no longer up for any more BS and promptly took his tube home.

0 Responses to “The Last Cat Dinner on the Storytree”

  1. Leave a Comment

Leave a Reply


WordPress.com Logo


Google photo


Twitter picture


Facebook photo


Connecting to %s

subscribe to feed



click to subscribe to The Memoirs & receive updates by email.

Join 1,682 other followers

@djrange: my tweets




translate the memoirs

copyright notice & disclaimer

Please view the full disclaimer and copyright notice here
free web tracker

© 2006-2017 Range all rights reserved

%d bloggers like this: