The Hound of Kittenville

The Hound of Kittenville

By: David McGhee

Pugsly the pug was a thug amongst thugs. With his tattoo of a cat's paw, he was an official kitty witty cat cat gangster. An honorary feline. Of the “here kitty kitty” variety. Genus: Kitty widdy cat cat. He had joined the ranks of Tabby the Terrible, Kill Kitten Thirteen, and the smartest cat of all, Drew. Oh he was a cunning monster. Who used his Christian Bible and street smarts to con the rich out of their loot and give it to welfare queens. Sort of like a modern day Robin Hood. Only these riches come in the form of scrumpdiddlelyumcious kitty treats. That's right. He would steal the fat cat's kitty witty cat cat treats and give them to the scrawny assed chick alley cats. He was a Himalayan Persian, so it was generally easy for him to gain access into the toughest of fortresses. Him and his cute fluffy black tail! Look! He's chasing it now! Awe!!!

Smiley face.

El oh el

Those famous feline murderers were also old style bank robbers. Like Bonny and Clyde. They tend to pull similar jobs in both style and veracity of plans, but had yet to collaborate as of this author's knowledge.

Pugsly got his street cred on the mean streets of Evergreen Terrace. Which is just a stone's throw from Spooner St. He would run up to joggers and ice cream men (The kind that pull their cart for a living, the ones where you had a Mexican shouting in Spanish at passerby's all about how awesomely awesome his Horchata ice pops are. And indeed, they rock) and bite the dickens out of their ankle length pants. He would hold on, he would! And the resulting beating that he received to make his jaws go limp promptly sent him to the dogey hospital. He died two hours later. The irate Mailman said he'd kick it in the nuts again and again until the thing fucking died. Again.

Oh he had a beautiful funeral.

Alan, his master, wrote a poem about it.

Oh Pugsly

So dapper and lover of the ladies.

You got me laid

Again

And again

And again

The chicks dig a man in a band with a pug

And for this I am forever in your debt

Which saddens me to say

From your face, I assumed you were gay

Fart fart, I don't give a shit

You were a fucking dog

I just bought another pug today and I'm calling it Pugsly

And it's a bitch dog too

I'm calling a bitch dog Pugsly, because that's what you were

Fucking stupid dog; eats his own poop...

Pugsly 2.0: Looked rather like a Siamese cat with Downs Syndrome. She was in every aspect, the perfect companion. Oh it was fun torture it! Never do any lasting damage. Not like you would with a cat. A cat is a way of God saying “You may now have the animal equivalent to the bitchiest of bitches who happen to have Histrionic Personality Disorder along with a touch of autism thrown in the mix. It was that touch of autism that the cats found Pugsly fascinating. The weird and different yet comfortable and none threatening. It was nice to have a dog around where you can get your pent up kitty cat aggression out on. You could scratch the the fuck out of the bitch and she just pants, smiling “Gee George, that was awesome George.” Pant. Pant. Pant. “Gee George, why are you cutting my tits off George?”

Pugsly gained entry to the “Felines Respect, All Niggas Killed”. Or “FRANK.” Along with another outfit, a pussy biker gang that went by the name “The Mother's of Nature.” Or TMON. Not exactly a good acronym, but the guy who names these things was on a forced vacation, with pay, so an intern had to name it. Blame it on that guy. I bet he totally pets them pussies too. Make's them purr!!!

Both gangs rivaled each other. One a master of ninjabonics, another a master at bikering! Who will the victor be? And why am I talking to myself?

One will stand truer than the other in an epic eight season hit cable TV drama “Toms of Anarchy.” In which a biker gang smuggles something or other and other gangs are in it and the father becomes the leader of the gang but then his son becomes the leader and they all have sixteen litters of kittens. The calico is named “Fido” and the tabby is “Puff Puff.”

The father, Fred Astaire, another tabby, is the leader of this biker gang in the beginning. He formed the “Mothers of Nature” back when he was just a kid riding a Yamaha TW200 motorcycle. O what fun they had as a gang of misfits and Tom cats. A new pussy every night, along with parties where snorting of catnip is sniffed off of the teats of a female Russian Blue. Her name was fish, who was actually a male, and he/she remembers it as follows:

Fish: “I was high. So very high. I'm high right now. I'm so very high. I needs me some kitty kibble!” Fish then goes off camera and the sound of something crunching emanates from parts unseen. The the lens goes dark. A gun goes off. There is a scream.

When it comes back into focus we see that there is a dead Irish Setter laying on the ground below. Above, the ninja like Fish is laughing maniacally at his most recent kill.

“Don't do drugs kids!” Fish explains. “Let the drugs do you!”

Fish then goes on down the road of addiction. Kitty heroin is a scourge that must be stopped. You see, Pugsly 2.0 is actually a spy out to eradicate the kitty drug lords. Goddammit, why does every dog have to be a good guy? Huh? Why are cats looked down upon? Why? Oh God why?

Because they're pussies. Hey-yo! And nobody like dat pussy. It's a rancid and acrid pussy. So smelly and sticky it corrodes her flesh away. Pugsly dowses her with Methamphetamine, she comes back to her normal Fish like self. Still so furry where it counts. Meow!

Pugsly walks up to his bitch master and expects a treat for doing what dogs do best, wasting the space where a cat could be. Who orders these things anyways?

Pugsly looks up at his bitch master and pants. She smiles and her tongue falls out of her mouth. It hangs like a search light, spotting her hand and ravishing it with dirty puppy kisses. But the bitch is ignored by the Bitch Master.

“You should have been a cat.” The Bitch Master says sullenly as she strokes Fish's fur. He purrs in contentment and smiles upon his genetically inferior friend. You had to pity her really.

Pugsly is oblivious to what she said. Because she's a fucking dog! They're stupid mother fuckers. You get?

Ever hear of a dog cleaning up after they poop? A cat will at least bury it's excrement while a dog will... I shudder to say. A dog will eat it's own poop. Scientists say this was developed along the millions of years of evolution as a way of hiding their location from predators. Why if I were a pigeon hawk I'd snatch up old Pugsly and tear at it's insides and then regurgitate it into my young's mouth. Pugsly lay there dead with a smile that would be forever frozen in the pain of its existence.

That's a good dogey, dogey!

Pugsly recuperates then speaks to his Bitch Master.

“Bark.” He says all dignified. “Bark bark. Bark bark ruff bark ruff.”

The Bitch Master thinks this over for a minute or so. Then she turns that radish color bitches be getting when they all pissed off and such. She raises her big twenty four pound hand, ready to strike. Pugsly smiles dumbly “Gee George.” The hand that rocks the cradle also smacks the pug.

Fish sits atop her Bitch Master, pulling strings like a puppeteer. The Bitch Master goes here. Then there. As if held by some sort of master string. String theory. Now there's a wacky concept. Branes and strings and such. But back to the dogey. It was crushed under the weight of her massive fuck ugly hand. When she raised it to see the smashed dogey underneath, she was revolted to find that she had bounced back like an accordion. For this she gave her the Purple Heart. She pinned it to her flesh. Pugsly smiled stupidly and panted.

“Gee George. Stick it to me George!”

On their leather Jackets, the Mothers of Nature insignia is of a robin but with it's head cut off. It spurts out blood like a water gun. The head Cat, Drew, was a demanding and demeaning little ball of fluff. Where ever Fred Astaire, who only got to where he was because he was fucking one of the other higher ups in FRANK, Drew wouldn't be far behind, telling him he's doing it all wrong. He screams. His bitch master's china breaks. He is proud of his tantrum. Outwardly he looks like he has lost part of himself in the ensuing chaos. But inside he relishes it.

“I am far too handsome for this!” Says the eager young male intern.

The dogeys stop in their tracks.

Who was this Master Handsome? And why was he too himself to be put through this ordeal?

“The Bitch Master knows!” Fred Astaire tells Drew and the others. They all head back to the Bitch Master's secret lair. Which is underneath the apartment where I live. But pudgy little Pugsly smiles dumbly at their desertion. “Gee George.” She growled at an invisible woman. “Why'ja leave me George?” She bites at this imaginary Bitch Master and receives a fictitious bitch slapping. “My pimp'n hand is strong!” She likes to say, this invisible bitch master.

Immediately Pugsly wants a belly rub. So she rolls onto her back, belly and tits exposed. After about ten minutes of panting in the dry Colorado heat and dry humping an imaginary male pug, exerting her authority on him. Just like ever other bitch, she was a domineering little fuck pug. But after a close inspection of its inner merit we find an animal that literally is so stupid it thinks its tail is a foreign object. And for this we should care for the little fucktarded pug. For it definitely does not know how to take care of it's self!

Seriously, Pugsly could subsist only on her own poop for weeks at a time. What a fucking retarded animal dogs are. With cats you get cool biker gangs like The Mothers of Nature and FRANK. Vicious little bastards who need no approval from Bitch Master. Just her food and cuddles. Damn they were horrible rotten selfish little animals. And for this we give a cat scratched thumb up for our feline compatriots.

Pugsly runs into the Bitch Master's room and searches under the bed. She spots her chew bone right away and heads for it. She gets to it and pauses. She growls at the inanimate object as if it were a threat. Then she bites at it and accidentally bites her tongue. And for this she thinks the bone has bitten her back. She recoils in fear and scampers away on its fat little pug legs, whining all the way to the couch. There she rethinks her plans and decides to teach that bone who's the Bitch Master of them all!

She runs back into the room and does not stop in time, she butts her head on the bone. She shakes this off and then barks at his mortal enemy. It does not bark back. Because it's a fucking cow's bone.

She wraps her dogey mouth around one end of the cow bone and drags it out and into the Bitch Master's sleeping thingy. A room? She probably heard one of them say that to her a few times. But she lacks the consciousness to either notice nor compute this vernacular into the right neural pathways. Making her pretty much useless for anything but being fed, loved, and walked. The Bitch Master liked walking her. But the Master with the human penis. She'd seen it, but again, she lacked the processing power to notice. His scent always meant that he wanted to fight her. And when he came around she would put her paws forward and bow before him. When he still made that mean scent she went to plan B, She rolled over, exposing her belly and baby feeders. For a dog this is the equivalent of about the most trust you can get from a dogey.

He would say “That's right! You bow before the William Shatner of evolutionary psychologists you bitch!” The he'd pretend to kick her in the face, stopping only inches away. She winces and yelps in terror and the Penis Master is satisfied. He kneels down and pets Pugsly around the ear. “That's a good dogey!” And he starts rubbing her belly, which she likes just fine.

In all truth he really pitied the poor thing. How would she survive if he left her stranded in the mountains of Estes Park Colorado? Can you imagine any which predatory animal snacking on Pugsly's guts? A cat at least has a chance if it's not de-clawed. All a small dog could do is run up to it and for God knows why she runs up to a coyote expecting it to be friendly like the other dogs in the park. Penis Master hated bringing her there. He wished those stupid dogs would just stop being so stupid.

But Pugsly, does he love her? Maybe. It's getting there. It's really all he can have since the Bitch Master is allergic to cats. But she loves them anyway. She will suffer the consequences to love and cuddle them adorable kitty cats. But she genuinely loves Pugsly, so he can't do shit to it anymore.

A pastime of Penis Master was to thunk Pugsly on the nose and tell it how horrible it was. It would whine and grunt and when it barked he smacked her across the head. She started biting at him so he choked her until she passed out. He had actually thought he killed her and threw her out into the back yard. But to his surprise the fucking thing just woke up and ran back to him, panting and bowing before him. That's when he would kick it in the face.

The cats watched in amusement at the abuse in which Pugsly suffered. To them it was like the Roman games where the man would slay the beast. But not right away. You had to make it suffer to gain audience approval. After all, you had to put on a show. If you did poorly and slayed the beast yet the emperor wasn't satisfied, the man would be killed in another battle to the death. Or something like that. Point being that this was awesome for the cats to watch. They all purred with delight.

Then it turned out that the Bitch Master doesn't like him treating Pugsly like a football. No matter how puntable he may be. Saddened, Penis Master still weld immense power over the little dogey. He would throw his fist at it's face and stop inches from it. He would also pretend to hug it but in fact really be choking it. And for what ever the reason may be, Pugsly still tries to wag her curly tail and pants with happiness at the sight of him. If he would have treated a cat like that it would have avoided him. Intelligence, knowing when to get the fuck out. As was the case with Puff Puff and Fido. They were being abused by a big old bully named Gary. He was a womanizer and he hated cats for the same reason the Penis Master hates dogs. He saw them as awful illiterate little creatures with little value. He would hiss at Fido then try to make it cuddle with him. What a bastard, Penis Master thought, unaware of the underlying meaning of it all.

That David finally was rid of him soon after. Gary being the pervert he was wanted to go out and sample the local offering of pussy and pussy related activities. Little piglets like their pig porn too. He worked at a porn store until he was fired for showing up drunk and arguing with the manager. As to where his last whereabouts were, who knows. The broken hearted College Master figures he sold his phone for crack.

Most likely.

“Gee George.” Pugsly looks up at Penis Master sitting in his Lay-Z-Boy, smiling like a dumbass. “Why are you sad George?” He picks her up but drops her because she weighs nearly twenty five pounds. He hurts his hand. He screams incoherently at the wincing dogey. Then he kicks it in it's ribs and sends it clear across the wood floor. She stands up, shakes herself off, and sits there panting like an idiot. “Gee George.” She smiles. “I love the way you hurt me, George.”