Diary of Cambo the Camo cat

By the time the meeting of the Cat-a-holic Society had come to an end a decision had been made by all the feline attendees.

That big-eared soup-strainer wearing son of a bitch had to be taken down a few pegs, and we knew just who to call upon.

Now, ordinarily I don?t associate with druggies or patched gang members, but Cooking Fat and his best mate Cleavdon had some rather unsavoury contacts down south who occasionally patronised their Nip-Lab in the small hours.

We knew the slave in question lived in Point Chev and we also knew where.

How is this possible you may ask?

Well, one thing you humans don?t understand is that your average Moggy has an ability to communicate across vast distances using, sound, vibration and scent. I mean, why do you think we do all this meowing and spraying everywhere?

So Cooking Fat and me put out a call to some feral bastards we knew in the Grey Lynn Nutters.

Once word got out that a ?hit? had been put out on the slave who had been getting all uppity and talking about mass feline genocide, all the local firms wanted a piece of the action:

The Western Springs Quarry; the Jaggers Bush 86 Crew; even that wangsta bunch who hung out at the Chamberlain Golf Course wanted to get amongst.

After a ?parley? out the back of the Aroy Thai Express it was decided that a night attack would be the preferable means of action. After all, we see a lot better than the slaves at night-time and also there was the element of surprise.

We knew the slave had some pretty nice ?moving things?. One with four round things and the other with only two, which he used to get about on quite a bit.

Carney the Afghan Assassin from the Jaggers Crew reckoned his boys could create a diversion by setting off the noisy sound on these things; meanwhile Brittany the Blue Haired Bitch from the Grey Lynn Nutters and Tobias the Toff from the Chamberlain Boys could spring the back door.

That left me; Apostrophe; Cooking Fat; Cleavdon; and the Western Springs Quarry led by Robbo the Claw to do the damage inside.

There was only one problem though; the slave lived with one of those big furry barking things which he always kept tied up out back.

Silas the Siamese Sneaker reckoned he could creep up on it real quiet like and unhitch the beast?s lead from the hook.

Once the big furry thing was loose Silas ran off down the street with the big furry thing chasing after him.

Now was the time for the diversion out front by Carney?s boys.

They jumped up on the ?moving things? and started using their teeth to tear away at the soft black rubbery bits which set the noisy sound off.

We saw the slave come out the front door wearing not much at all. He looked really red in the face and started yelling, all the while trying to shoo Carney and his mates away.

He also had one of those things in his hand which he started talking to saying things like:

?Get me the S.P.C.A. right now!? and ?I want these bastards dealt with!?

By this time the Chamberlain Boys and the Grey Lynn Nutters had managed to jump up on the back door handle enough times to finally open it and then we were all inside.

Running here and there we did as much damage as possible: spraying all over the plants and the furniture; crapping in the slave?s shoes; ripping up the carpet; knocking down big hard things up high that went ?smash? as they fell down; just basically going nuts all over the show.

When we finally heard a bunch of sirens we knew we had to go so everyone legged it over to Walker Park for a post-match report and general ?catting about?.

Everyone was in high spirits and Cooking Fat brought out some Nip for anyone who was in the mood.

Me and Apostrophe decided to call it a night though and, finding a nice warm and out of the way spot, we both cosied up together for a good long nap, all the while purring with satisfaction.