The Catastrophe

Norris Cat, the spokesfeline of the brand name cat food 9 1/2 Lives, flung away the photograph with great disgust. “I can’t believe this!” he yowled. “A cat of my stature doesn’t deserve such mockery!” The photograph lay face down on the litter strewn dressingroom floor, and the assistant bent down to pick it up.

It showed Norris at mid slurp, his pink tongue curving across and above his nose. “It ain’t too bad, Mister Norris,” his assistant said cheerfully, but the cat didn’t hear him.

“They even named a drink after me. After this fiasco, I won’t be taken seriously any more,” said Norris as he slunk from one corner of the room to another, followed by his agitated tail.

“Sir, just because gato means cat in Spanish, doesn’t mean they named the drink after you.”
“It’s a catastrophe!”

This elicited a snicker from the assistant and a snick from the cat. The people outside the dressingroom leaned their ears nervously towards the flimsy door that did little to conceal the sounds of great pain, wincing at the appropriate moments.

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