MISS PUSS IN BOOTS

 MISS PUSS IN BOOTS

 

I woke up one morning to a commotion in my room. I sat in bed and rubbed my eyes at the silhouette of a figure standing near the door. It took my mind a while to register what I was seeing.

 

Standing on its hind legs was my cat, Miss Puss in Boots, dressed in a cop’s uniform, complete with a badge and a baton in her hands. I noticed that she had dry-cleaned herself and was posing in the doorway. I was amazed and in disbelief.

 

“Miss Puss in Boots, what are you wearing?” I blurted out.

 

Miss Puss in Boots stared at me blankly as she straightened her uniform with her paw, adjusted it and stood there.

 

Before I could fully comprehend the situation, my young son burst into the room, eyes wide with shock and disbelief. “Is that a cat in a cop’s uniform, Dad?”

 

I managed to nod my head and felt like a dumbo at the absurdity of the situation. The extraordinary sight still shook me.

 

From the stairway to my apartment, I could hear sounds of laughter and amusement. My neighbour's shrill voice followed. “Looks like Miss Puss in Boots is on her beat today! Let’s keep out of her way when she is doing her rounds.”

 

The uproar drew more attention, and soon, more friends and neighbours from the neighbourhood gathered and crowded into the room, all wearing expressions of glee and disbelief.

 

As for me, I had a hearty laugh. I always knew that Miss Puss in Boots was a show-off. But never could I have imagined that she had such a knack for showmanship and swagger. She managed to sway everybody with that cop’s uniform and oppressive behaviour.

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