I Got Cat Class and I Got Cat Style

Helpful Note: Mr Fever and I have one remaining pet, which happens to be a cat. Said cat has a name, but we never call him by it. Instead he is called by any number of nicknames, including — most recently and most often — Bad Kitty. (Because he has a tendency to be bad. Duh.)

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STRAY CAT STRUT THOUGHTS

Mr Fever walked his naked, freshly-showered self down the hallway and into the range of my peripheral vision with the wiggle-shush sound of toweling off accompanying his bare-footed steps. Crooking my finger in come-hither fashion, I enticed my naked spouse to advance to where I was sitting so I could give him some bare-palmed cock petting.

Now, him being y’know… him… he eagerly stepped forward and put his dangly bits within my easy reach.

And me being me… Well, I sort of mentally multi-tasked (completely by accident) and inadvertently played a little word-association game in my brain around the word ‘petting’, which led to me noticing that our erstwhile fluffy companion (see: Bad Kitty, as explained above) was {1} being far too quiet (which is just about as bad as when a small mischievous child can suddenly not be heard) (and I *know* some of y’all understand perfectly how much trouble THAT can turn out to be), and {2} was nowhere to be seen.

So, without breaking stroke, I looked up at my spouse and mused aloud: “Uhmmm… Where is the Bad Kitty?”

A question to which my husband responded, in steps, by:

1. Looking bewildered,
2. Getting a dangerous glint in his eye,
3. Bending forward toward me (carefully, lest his cock petting should cease),
4. Tapping my lady-puss through my pajama pants, and saying:

“She’s right there.”

I wish I could be as carefree and wild
But I got cat class and I got cat style…

Brian Setzer

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Title & ending excerpt taken from the lyrics of The Stray Cats’ Stray Cat Strut.