I swore I’d never to another cat show. I really don’t approve of that sort of exploitation, but it was a slow day, Bucks was sleeping, as usual, and there was nothing better to do. Some of the contestants looked over fed if you ask me.
Look at him. He’s bigger than Brazil!
I had a talk with this one. Her name’s Lulu. She was kind of cute, just a kid really. “I flew in from Germany,” she told me. “Threw up on the plane. It was an awful trip. Show business isn’t easy, but I am well taken care of. I get bratwurst for breakfast and spend afternoons by the pool listening to Beethoven . . . mostly sonatas and string quartets.”
This is Lulu’s mom ― the cat I mean. Her name is Francis. Don’t know what her servant’s name is.
Here’s one of the winners. Go figure. He looks weird if you ask me. I tried to get an interview, but he was very stuck up. Wanted three sardines just for talking to me, and started running on about photo rights. I told him, forget about it. A lot of these show cats have overgrown egos.