It's Hiss or Miss

These days, I hope it's a miss.

As in Cosette missing my forehead with her steely paws.


Lately, I'm a feline bladder -- and it's not the pissing kind. It's the kind that boxers use, but my nemesis is the hissing kind. I've been on the receiving end of some of her blows, and frankly, I don't know what I could have said or done to deserve this type of Priss 'n Boots' mistreatment of me.

After all, I am the Ladies' Man and most every feminine feline is enamored of me for my charm and wily ways. Because I am, after all.... ME!

I don't mean to come off as conceited or self-centered, but I am a truth teller.

OK, back to Cosette. Yesterday she gave me quite a fright. I was snuggling and purring in mama's arms next to our beloved bay window, when all of a sudden, Cosette pounces seemingly out of nowhere from the bay window's curtains and jumps on mom's shoulders and rap-tap-taps me on the forehead.






If these antics keep continuing, I'm going to lose a few IQ points, which would make me a couple of points short of the genius level. Again, I'm not trying to brag, but facts are facts.

Speaking of short, that Cosette has really been short-tempered lately. Between the breakfast time growling and hissing and the midday butt whooping, she's mussing my fur and my tuxedo cannot be dry cleaned.

On the upside of this, mom has been feeling sorry for her little boy, whom she and a friend lovingly dub Mr. Man. Isn't that cute? After all, I'm the man of the house.

I'm so manly, that even without a tail or with my snip job, I still attract the ladies. My pheromones abound!!

Between her hissing, pissing, and moaning, I think she needs serious therapy or an animal communicator so there can finally be some peace in the house and my tuxedo unscathed.