I've Been Railroaded!

CK needs a mouthpiece and she needs one pronto. I got a timeout! Can y'all believe that? Me? Ms.-I'd-never-hurt-a-flea! This little cat from the hood knows her rights and will fight this until the Supurreme Court!

CK in the "tunnel of pain"

The events that led up to the "timeout" started Caturday. TW had her hand stuck in the "tunnel of pain"—in my opinion that's looking for trouble—and suddenly the tunnel lived up to it's name. When TW took her hand out, there was a 2-inch slit on her wrist that was bleeding pretty good. It looked like someone took a blade to it. She looked at me like I was guilty without benefit of a trial. I said Woman, you don't have anything on me. It's wasn't me. Did you see anything in that dark tunnel? I don't think so. Sometimes, TW forgets that in American, everyone is innocent until proven guilty.

Cut to yesterday. I was having a friendly game of attack the string with TW; and, before you know it, she was holding that same wrist and excusing me of biting her in almost the same place she'd been scratched. Wasn't me! I defended myself. There are 3 other cats on the bed and any one of them could be the guilty party. She said the other cats were stuffies and couldn't just get up and jump her on their own. None of this made any sense to me. If the cats weren't alive, what the Sam Hill were they doing in the house? With so many shelter cats needing homes, why was our house filled with zombie cats?

Do you know what TW did next? She gave me a timeout! She shut the door to the bedroom and went out for a couple of hours, maybe even a couple of days. I was in there with no food and 3 potentially dangerous stuffies. I had water and a litter box but NO FOOD! Can you hear me! NO FOOD! FOR DAYS! Oh sorry, I think I became hysterical in my tiny jail cell. [EDITOR'S NOTE: She was in there for about 20 minutes and I let her out before I went shopping. That tiny "jail cell" was about 200 sq ft., which is larger than some NYC apartments.] [CK's NOTE: Don't try to change history, woman. These cats know I'm in a bad situation unless my Pop is home.]

I hope you can tell us apart better than TW.

Many readers know I have a doppelgänger who goes by the name of Herñia Hernandez Gutierrez, AKA HHGutt, who's no good—plain and simple. This Mexican—yeah, it says right on his tag "Heche en Mexico"—has done me wrong before.  He'd stop at nothing to get me in trouble; but TW thinks he's Saint Guadalupe or something. I don't even think he's in this country legally. I'll have to check on it.  At her age, I'm sure all TW saw was a gray blur and immediately blamed me. You can see from the photo how someone HER age could make that mistake.

My furrend Boris Kitty, also has a doppelgänger, named Edgar, who goes to events that he's too busy to attend. I'll have to ax him if Edgar gets him in all sorts of trouble too. Frankly, if HHGutt ever went to, say BlogsPaw, and pretended to be me, I'd rip all his stitches out. I'd mail him to Busy Buttons and let her have her way with him.

Now what would give TW the idea that sweet, lovable CK has the capacity for violence?

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UPDATE ON DAISY

She's on the mend and back home with her family. Hopefully, she's regained her ability to use the litter box and will have minimal lasting affects from her ordeal.

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UPDATE ON ADMIRAL HESTROB'S MOM 

Admiral Hestrob is one of my most loyal readers and furrends. Her Mom had an accident and broke her wrist and hurt her knee. Why am I telling you this? Because the Admiral's Mom won't be able to type up the blogs and tweets the Admiral dictates to her. We'll all miss her wonderful comments on our blogs, as well. You can read more about her accident on Mario's Meowsings. Please keep her in your purrayers and send good thoughts to the Admiral via Twitter.