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This is Wooloby. I know Dave spells it different, but that's how he says it. Sorta like when he's talking about Wooly Nelson.
It's kinda fun staying here with Patty's brother in California, with the
pool and all, but sometimes it gets to be a little much, especially when all
these pretty teenage girls are running around in their bikinis. But since my
operation I don't have quite the reaction you would expect. I would probably be
a dirty old kitty except for that.
They
make a big fuss over me when I let them, but it gets to be kind of a drag after
a while. They're too sweet, if you know what I mean. Like listening to "You
Light Up My Life" nonstop for a week.
So today I hid way back in the back of the girls' closet, expecting to have a little peace and quiet for a change. But wouldn't you know it, just as I got settled down away in the back on a pile of old boxes of shoes or something, here come the girls, all three of them. They're giggling and chattering and making a lot of racket. One of them reaches in the closet for something.
Her hand is getting closer and closer. Closer.
I couldn't stand it. Any moment she was going to find my hiding place and spoil my quiet repose.
Just as her hand got right in front of my face, I pushed it away. Her hand, not my face.
The hand froze there for just a moment, then tentatively (bet you didn't know I could use long words like that) moved toward me again.
I batted her hand out of the way, claws extended, and you should have heard her shreik. Instantly her voice was joined by two more just as high pitched. Then as I watched in amazement all three of them tied for the bedroom door. The one in the middle almost made it through, then the other two pulled her back and tried to go through at once.
It took them a moment to sort it out, then all three arrived at the living room and left skid marks around two walls as they banked for the turn and exited stage right.
When I walked out of the closet, quite a scene greeted my eyes. The room had been sprayed with booby, er, bobby pins and curlers, and there was a trail of furniture across the living room and even out onto the front yard. I guess they had the choice of running around the furniture or taking it with them, and they decided on the latter.
Purring with contentment I sauntered out onto the patio and stretched out to catch some rays with Sasha.
PS A while later I heard a noise in the girls' room and wandered that way to see what was up. Two of the girls were standing in the middle of the room with baseball bats at the ready, while the third stirred the clothes in the closet with a broom and waved a tire iron around over her head.
Cheers, Willoughby
Editor's note:
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