Yesterday afternoon I heard a cry for help. Mr Snizzles was lying outside the garden gate, teetering on the edge of the storm drain, yelling in panic. Yow Yow, the big brute street cat who beat up our Au two weeks ago, was standing over him, tail fluffed up, growling nastily.
Yow Yow has never had anything but kindness and cat biscuits from me, so he didn't take any notice when I walked up behind him. When I smacked his arse with the flat of my hand, however, he jumped three feet in the air and shouted, "YOWRL!"
You should have seen his face: sheer shock and horror. I told him to beat it to the back lane, threatening another smack if he should come back to the front of the house and terrorise my cats again.
Yow Yow hightailed it down the street, and disappeared into the back lane where the stray cats hang out.
Mr Snizzles was terribly relieved at the rescue. His backside had slipped into the drain and were covered in muck but he was uninjured. I cuddled him, took him into the house and we rinsed off his back paws and tail.
As a first bath experience, it sucked. I let him clutch onto my t-shirt and just quickly rinsed his hindquarters under the tap. He was still traumatised by Yow Yow's attack so he didn't even squeak. Afterwards we rubbed him dry with a towel, and fussed over him a little bit.
Yow Yow turned up this morning at the back door as usual, looking for biscuits. Being a cat he didn't even show a trace of shame.
I read him a lecture telling him he can have his biscuits twice a day like the other strays in the back lane, but if he comes to attack my fuzzies in their own front garden again, he'll feel the flat of my hand.
I know he understood every word I said. Let's hope he remembers it!
Here's Yow Yow and one of his kittens eating breakfast.


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Happy Cats On Tuesday!