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#1
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The True Story of the Battle Between The Mouser and The Growler
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. |
#2
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The True Story of the Battle Between The Mouser and The Growler
This is hysterical! The kittens are trying to swim out to the Mouser now!
Charleen "tanadashoes" wrote in message ... 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. |
#3
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The True Story of the Battle Between The Mouser and The Growler
"tanadashoes" wrote in message ... (snip) 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. If only! Actually, that went into my sandal early this morning! -- Theresa, Stinky and Dante drtmuirATearthlink.net Stinky Pictures: http://community.webshots.com/album/125591586JWEFwh |
#4
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The True Story of the Battle Between The Mouser and The Growler
"Kreisleriana" wrote in message m... "tanadashoes" wrote in message ... (snip) 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. If only! Actually, that went into my sandal early this morning! I knew it went somewhere. Pam S. giggling |
#5
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The True Story of the Battle Between The Mouser and The Growler
drtmuirATearthlink.net "tanadashoes" wrote in message ... "Kreisleriana" wrote in message m... "tanadashoes" wrote in message ... (snip) 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. If only! Actually, that went into my sandal early this morning! I knew it went somewhere. Pam S. giggling I'm just glad that it wasn't red white and blue for the holiday. -- Theresa, Stinky and Dante Stinky Pictures: http://community.webshots.com/album/125591586JWEFwh |
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