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Woke up with a pain that felt like hundreds
of tiny teeth sinking into my neck. A vicious flea dragon was
biting me. With a nimble left paw I grabbed the little fiend. As
I was about to squash him into pulp he begged for mercy, telling
me that his name was Kevin and that he was poverty stricken,
starving and homeless. With tears dripping from his tiny eyes,
he explained that, after he had become hooked on sniffing moth
balls, his wife had ran off with his best friend. But now he
was reformed, had joined Moth Balls Anonymous and was struggling
to raise his family of one thousand and four baby fleas all on
his own. In the past I would have been taken in by this sob
story, but being the tough Ruler-of-the-Lane I can’t afford to
be sentimental. So I told him that he had just three days to get
out of my house forever. I allowed him just one last suck of my
blood.
Snowball was really glad to see me. I’m still
her hero. But she spent most of our time together talking about
Killer and how brave he has been since the accident. Apparently
being hit by a car is not fatal. I wish I had started my get
mega-fit campaign so that I could look ferocious and strong for
Snowball. Then she would think only of me!
This evening I managed to get onto my new
chair. Trousers thought that I didn’t really want to sit on it
and tried to push me off. I had to scratch his arm twice to
convince him that I was happy where I was. But he mistakenly
thought I wanted to spend the night outside in the snowy cold -
it’s just as well I’ve got a shed or I would have frozen to
death.
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