feral furriday!

oh, great bast!! yesterday, our buddy miles ofur at meezer tails posted about kentucky fried chick-hen, wif its elebenty herbs an' spices. that reminded our mommer we hadn't had enny in so long that igmu din't even know what it was--an' HE's been wif us two years this month!

in fact, the post did what is referred to in some parts of the South as: it done flung a cravin' ON her!! dang if she din't go get some authentic kernel frickin' chick-hen at lunch--the big giant economy size cluck-in-a-bukkit chick-hen, so daddy could haff some fur supper.

of course, she hadda haf some for lunch acause all those steamy hot hevvinly perfumes were pullin' theirselfs up through her nose-holes by grabbin' onto the hairs an' shimmyin' their way into the brain--they just flat took her ofur. even if she hadn't had that cravin' flung on her, she woulda been powerless unner the spell of the smells. once she settled at the table, it wasn't pretty: she scarfed down two legs anna thigh an' several forkfuls of chopped up begebuls wifout even breathin'. i, nitro, got whacked onna head wif the fork no less than three times while i was tryin' to clean up the crums that were flyin' efur-which-way while she inhaled the chick-hen.

finely, she said, "ok, boys, now you kin each haf  some chick-hen." nacherly, iggy an' i lunged fer it an' got a couple more thwacks for our trubble. "dammit, i din't mean you could pick yer own!! lemme pick off some bits that ain't fatty an' then ed kin haf some, too." so while she was pickin' shreds off the bones, iggy saw his chance an' reached in unner her hands, hooked a legbone wif a claw, grabbed it up wif his mouf, an' took off fur the puter room.

it was sure funny watchin' mom bein' tore in haff mentally--if she took off hotfoot after him, she knew the plate wif the pickin's an' bones (not to mention the rest of the bukkit) would get pillaged good an' proper, but then she din't want iggy runnin' wif scissors ... er ... a bone in his mouf, either. she din't even know who to holler at!!! me an' ed MOLd fur all we was werth while creepin' closer to the feast! at last, she grabbed the plate from unner our noses, stacked it onna bukkit, an' bundled the whole thing into the oven as she passed it on the way to the puter room.

by this time, iggy was hunkered down unner the puter desk. she grabbed fur him; he was growlin' at her. he scooted out the side of the desk an' took off around the chair. she followed, throwin' clo'espins at him to make him drop the bone (hah! as if!). he ran back unner the counter, an' when she lined up onna side of the desk to catch him, he went back out the way he come in an' headed fur the kitchen again. all the while she was castin' aspershuns on his parentage an' threatenin' to soak his head inna terlet when she caught him an' then hang him out to dry. he just growled louder, an' wove hisself in, out, an' around the chairleg forest where she couldn't reach him, then took off fur the puter room again. he was right lively!

as she was roundin' the corner of the oven, a light bulb came on ofur her head (honest, we saw it!), an' she reached in an' got a little chunk of crunchies, plunged into the puter room, an' shut the door behint her. we din't see the rest, but iggy tole us later that she waved that crunchy glob in his face a few times an' then very unfairly tossed it just outta his reach so he'd hafta stretch out to get it. when he opened his mouf to grab it, she grabbed the bone, an' it was all ofur. damn them opposable thumbs!!

ennyway, this is all that was left onna bone--

he managed to gnaw off an' eat alla the meat that was left as well as the mooshy parts on bofe ends while he was runnin' around avoidin' capture AND cussin'; that boy can multi-task!! all hail igmu: he may be a indoor kitteh, but he's got the heart of a successful feral!