Re: The True Story of the Battle Between The Mouser and The Growler
- From: "Charleen Welton" <ilikecats@xxxxxxxxxx>
- Date: Fri, 4 Jul 2008 14:33:12 -0400
This is hysterical! The kittens are trying to swim out to the Mouser now!
Charleen
"tanadashoes" <tanada@xxxxxxxxxxxxx> wrote in message
news:icWdndFpq-ED-PPVnZ2dnUVZ_o_inZ2d@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The Mouser set sail in search of a certain Dread Pirate Fifi after leaving
the fat wench and other non-combatants on shore. The spirits were high as
was the consumption of catnip. Oh, the seas were running high too.
They were three days out from FranknNikki Island when Willow called down
from her perch on the mast that black sails were on the horizon. Word
quickly passed forward and Major Sam strutted out leisurely with
Lieutenants Mistletoe and Spock behind him. The only thing that betrayed
any qualms for the coming battle was a slight twitching in their tails.
Major Sam showed no nervousness at all.
First Sergeant Huey had already formed his marines into battle formation
and was waiting for Major Sam and the lieutenants to inspect the troops.
Down below, the engineers, lead by Scotty, had the ship's engines humming
and were prepared to give power as directed. Kitty Schottland and
Mischief (assisted by the human, Helen M) pulled the first of the medical
trays and herbs they'd previously prepared out of storage and set them
into place so that there would be as little delay as possible in the
treatment of the coming casualties. The sailors set the battle sails and
stood ready to help repel boarders in their own turn. The humans were
ready with pepper spray and leashes.
Cap'n Pine Cone noted with scant satisfaction that his intelligence was
correct and that the name of the ship had been changed to "The Growler" in
order to avoid a copywrite infringement suit with Disney. "Figures," he
thought. "Fifi isn't noted for innovation or imagination." He sharpened
his claws reflexively on the carpet tacked to the deck for that purpose.
A battle at sea is a complex mixture of speed, slow motion, dance, and
gore. This was no exception, except in that the combatants tended to be
under three feet tall. Unless the battle endangered them, the humans kept
out of it, by a long standing unwritten treaty between animals and their
human companions everywhere. Nonetheless, there was enough action to keep
even the most placid human's breathing fast and blood pressure rising.
The Growler crashed into the side of The Mouser with a wrenching tear and
timbers crashing. Apparently, The Growler hadn't had the benefit of the
latest in wood grained finished fiberglass and plastic construction. The
dogs poured over the side of their ship. Since cats have more experience
in climbing quickly up unstable surfaces, the canines were again at a
disadvantage. They were able to overcome most of this by the volume of
their battle barks. The cats countered with yowls and hisses. The humans
on both sides booed at each other. The noise was incredible.
The cats quickly swarmed to positions above the reach of the dogs where
they looked down at the snarling snapping canines of the canines below.
"Ok," yowled Corporal Cousin Rosco. "We've got the height advantage, Now
what do we do?"
"Horka, horka, horka," Sergeant Dante answered. He horked a huge hairball
that he'd been saving for the occasion into the face of the Rottweiler
below him. "Ack," the Rottweiler tried to get the nasty mess out of his
eyes. He stumbled against the beagle beside him who promptly nipped the
Chihuahua beside him. The Chihuahua attacked a husky who had laughed at
her earlier. The husky sat down to nurse the place where his toe had been
and whimpered. The toe bounced away and under the paws of a Yorkshire
terrier, who promptly stumbled under the slavering jaws of a Saint
Bernard.
Several other marine cats followed Dante's lead and also horked hairballs
onto the frantically milling dogs below. Other cats called in shots and
helped fling the sticky mass at the increasingly desperate dogs. One of
the dogs, a Pinscher mix, licked the slime off the face of the collie next
to him. "Hey, guys, this tastes good!" he exclaimed and ran over to the
Rottweiler and licked the mess off of his face. Other dogs followed suit.
"Well, so much for not getting out claws dirty," Sergeant LilyWhiskers
mewed to Qui Gun Kit who was on the spar next to her. "I'll pitch and you
bat," She declared.
"Baseball or Cricket?" Qui Gun asked as the two of them jumped onto the
back of a Great Dane and proceeded to tear into him.
"Cricket, of course," LilyWhiskers stated. "Baseball is too uncivilized
for battle operations."
"I dunno," Qui Gun grunted as he swung his claws into the face of an
Airedale mix that was trying to pull him off of the Great Dane. Needless
to say, the airdate's nose was a bleeding pulpy mess in a couple of swipes
of Qui Gun's Claws. "Baseball has its uses. A side swipe bunt works
wonders when given at a high speed."
"Enough technical talk," Ranger Greykitten butted in. "I need help with
this stinking Dalmatian."
"It's not a Dalmatian, it's an ugly," Dante had jumped from the cross beam
and onto the dog's head. His bottom and tail covered the Dalmatian's eyes
so that he couldn't see well enough to get away. The dog swallowed his
curses and yelped as Dante's claws connected with his left ear.
The battle deteriorated into a cursing, brawling, free-for-all with an
uncertain outcome. Blood was mingling on the deck which was rapidly
becoming slippery for all combatants. Then, from a halyard came the voice
of PFC Rufous.
"Let's go get em, cats," He yowled, then proceeded to urinate into the
open mouth of the Mastiff below him. The mastiff snapped his jaws closed,
biting his tongue in the process.
"OW! AIE, AIE, AIE," he shrieked as he barreled into other dogs in his
eagerness to get away from the furiously peeing cat. Other dogs joined
him as cats peed and sprayed into their eyes and mouths.
On the quarterdeck, Captains Pine Cone and Fifi faced each other in the
time honored fashion of Sea epics everywhere.
"There is a reason I'm known as The Dread Pirate Fifi," the Poodle
taunted.
"You mean "Dead Pirate Fifi," right?" Pine Cone taunted back, circling
around to the poodle's right. "I understand you're a puddle."
"Poodle! I'm a Poodle!" Fifi tried to circle to Pine Cone's left, but
Pine Cone had the initiative and won the direction.
"Whatever." The tabby and White cat said indifferently. "Personally, I'm
a moggy and proud of my blend of ancestry."
"You have no class," Fifi snarled.
"You have no balls," Pine Cone countered.
"They're in my cabin," Fifi informed Pine Cone.
Pine Cone suddenly switched directions and lunged in for the attack. On
the railing above the two circling adversaries, a laughing Tina Marie let
go of her grip on her perch and landed on Fifi, who promptly snapped at
her. Tina Marie ignored Fifi, rolled over and over on the deck
hysterically while moaning "They're in my cabin" over and over again.
Fifi tripped over her and slid across the deck cracking head first into
the door of the pilot house, knocking himself out.
"Quick, throw him overboard," a suddenly sober Tina Marie ran to the inert
body of the poodle and tried to drag him to the edge of the deck. Soon
three other cats were helping her push Fifi over the edge and into the
water where he landed with a splash.
Meanwhile, a party of cats had lugged a burning candle over the railings
and onto the deck of The Growler where they found enough burnable material
to get the needed inferno lit. The cats quickly shoved the two ships
apart. Soon all the dogs' available life boats were in the water where
they quickly filled up with the human and canine crew of the ship formerly
known as The Growler. Someone fished the body of Fifi out of the water
and was desperately trying to get the water out of his lungs.
"Cap'n, are we going to rescue any of the d-things from the water?"
Corporal Imp asked.
"They're dogs. They can swim, can't they? How were our casualties?
Quick, go find out," Captain Pine Cone ordered. Suki ran below decks to
where the frantic medical staff was working hard to repair injuries
inflicted on feline and canine alike.
"Three cats, one seriously, and eight dogs, one of whom probably won't
make it," Suki reported. "The dog lost a lot of blood after the loss of a
toe and subsequent, slashing by an enraged terrier."
"We got off lightly," Captain Pine Cone stated. We'll put the dogs ashore
on the coast of Scotland and make our way back to FranknNikki Island to
collect the rest of the crew members. That was the best battle I've ever
taken part in. Fresh Nip for everyone not on duty."
Five days later The Mouser put into port at FranknNikki Island. The
battle stories were already reaching epic proportions as the size of the
dogs got bigger with each telling. As Tanada put it, "there isn't such a
thing as a thirty pound Chihuahua."
Respectfully submitted from the Mouser,
Pam S. recording.
.
- References:
- The True Story of the Battle Between The Mouser and The Growler
- From: tanadashoes
- The True Story of the Battle Between The Mouser and The Growler
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