Talk to the Tail
My name is Officer Bea. I live in the barn with 5 other cats and I am in charge. What I say goes. I’m tolerant until someone gets out of line, then I am quick to assert myself. I whip my tail back and forth until the perpetrator backs down. Its all about the tail, it demands attention and respect. And on the rare occasion that I poof my tail out like a feather duster, well, look out! No one messes with me, I am Officer Bea.
At least I used to be. Last week one of the oaf horses stepped on my tail and broke it. The lady scooped me off to the vet who cut my damn tail off. Now its just a nub. How am I going to control the other barn cats with a nub? Any advice?
I’m real sorry about your tail. Nothing hits the dignity like that. But sugar, here’s the thing. Your tail does not define you. Do not become like one of those human women who are always fussing about their hair like it’s their super power. Yeah, okay, it was a statement piece. But so is a nub. It screams “Do. Not. Mess. With. Me.” You still have claws, right? And you can flatten your ears? And I bet your hiss has a little more sass in it, too. You be you, Bea. Kick some barn cat a$$.
Good luck – Appy
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