A Tail's Tale

It's me again...Snickers...aka "the perfect cat."  Here I am, so perfect, and I have to deal with that stupid, fuzzy, yellow guy as my sole furry companion.  As his superior in intellect, it's difficult for me to even comprehend some of his choices.  The latest choice, which is entirely inconceivable to me, is his apparent decision to use his tail to gain attention.  ABSURD!  A tail is to be practical; it's a tool.  I use my tail for the functions for which it was created:  to thump (when the stupid, yellow, furry thing is getting too close to me), to gently sway side to side when the people say my name lovingly, to help me jump, and simply for balance. Not Butterscotch. It's as if he thinks his tail is his main attraction.  (Then again, since he is certainly not as smart as I am, maybe that's all he has going for him!)  He uses that big fluffy tail of his to wave around, to shake, to get the people's attention. His tail is this huge flag he's always waving around, as if he's somehow better than a cat with a practical tail.  He holds it up high like this big "Pepe La Pew" flag to warn us all that he's coming.  (He probably stinks just as badly, too!) The really annoying part is that the people always ooo and ahhh over all his dumb tail antics for some reason.

And, no, I'm not jealous:  I'm very happy with my practical tail.  I like my tail...even if I did hear someone call it a rat's tail.  I know better:  practicality wins every single time.  Besides, I'm smarter!  See, not jealous at all. Who needs extra plumage anyway?  It makes him look...fat.  Me, I'm a lean, mean feline-machine.  So, take that, Fancy Tail! And that, my dear readers, is the end of this tale!

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