Topsy-Turvy is an entry which has literally turned the tail on its head! (Scuse the pun) It has been submitted by Stefanie Allison, and it definately does leave you wondering why humans are so squishy and fur-less!

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Mr. Whiskers sat at his table, sipping his decaffeinated catnip tea. It was just another day for him to be working at the office, doing the same old thing, each day. Just nothing but punching in, filing paperwork (and he absolutely hates getting paper cuts on his paws—how can anyone expect him to stamp his paw signature when that happens?)—and—worst of all—helping to clear some of the fur balls his cat-mander-in-chief coughed up during the board meeting. When times got tough for the company, things got a little hairy.

Mr. Whiskers stood by the mirror, adjusting his tie. He always hated having to wear these collared shirts and ties because his gold-red fur stuck up like drowning victims reaching for help. Not to mention it made his neck look fatter. And his wife, even though she needed glasses, never ceased to remind him of that, even in the dimmest of lightings. But he loved her anyway—precisely why he made sure his claws were sunk deep enough into her nightgown so she couldn’t leave him.

A sound caught Mr. Whisker’s ear and his back instinctively curved. He kept dead silent. Someone was obviously trespassing on his property. Mr. Whiskers downed the last of his tea before swinging the front door of his house open.

There was no mistaking it. Mr. Whiskers stared down hard, making it so clear he wasn’t welcomed. He hated everything about them. He hated how dirty they could be—only getting cleaned if they found a body of water (or if Mr. Whiskers was feeling particularly generous, the water hose always worked). The bare peach, brown, or black skins on their bodies made him want to turn on the barbeque (it was a hot summer, and he finally got the grill to work again). To Mr. Whiskers, whoever came up with the idea of evolution was an idiot to make an animal ninety-percent hairless and then keep the majority of that hair on their heads. If only that same inventor had put that same kind of investment into their skulls as much as the hair.

But this particular one was no stranger. Oh no. Mr. Whiskers, in his kind heart, offered a woolen blanket and a small paper bowl of water to him one night, and the bastard wouldn’t leave him alone now. Obviously, even his own species didn’t like him much because they tended to travel in groups—usually with their family members. And, judging from what Mr. Whiskers could see when he stood up, there was no way anybody was wanting to start a family together with him. And now, he obviously wanted to attach himself to Mr. Whiskers and his family. Not happening.

Mr. Whiskers tried shooing him away by yelling at him, but to no avail. Even spraying him with the hose hadn’t helped; he just enjoyed the cool water on his hot skin on this summer day. There was only one thing left Mr. Whiskers could do. Time to bust out his unique gun—that only he had and no one else could.

Mr. Whiskers undid his work khakis and walked over to him. Releasing the golden bullet around his yard, Mr. Whiskers was sure this would finally do the trick. Maybe he could even get out of buying that ugly white picket fence his wife was nagging him about. Certainly, it would draw the line. Mr. Whiskers was not prepared for what would happen.

It laughed at Mr. Whiskers. A trademark of that species, it opened its mouth and let out deep, guttural, sounds that were distinctly of that species. And Mr. Whiskers hated the sound of it. Anything that made stupid noises like that didn’t deserve to be on top of the food chain.

Furious, Mr. Whiskers pulled up his silk black boxers and his khakis and went into the house. Shooting out a well-manicured claw (“See darling? That nail file I got you worked so well!”), he dialed the number for animal control. The dull ringing was like cat litter in his ears. Finally, a bored voice answered, asking what the emergency was.

“My name is Gerald Whiskers and I need animal control over here, right away,” he demanded furiously. “I’m getting really sick and tired of these stupid stray humans showing up at my house!”