In which one of the Tiny Hat Size folks gets his comeuppance. Pow! Zoom! To the moon! If only we could do likewise to all such*, what a wonderful world it would be.
* And no, I’m not talking about beating the Little Friskies out of itty-bitty kitties. You know who I’m talking about. The dildos who dangle tea bags from their itty-bitty Revolutionary War hats. Thanks to Ornery Bastard for unearthing the feline fisticuffs.
Mad Blog Media 
Ouch…
Holy mackerel…that’s a full broad-side attack. I liked it.
Update: the wife (who used to volunteer for the local Repuglicans here) liked it too.
That’s why I generally dislike felines.
Cats are weird critters. Took me a long time to warm up to ’em but now I prefer ’em to dogs. Ours periodically go apeshit for no good reason and it’s much better than cable TV.
Miss Mia Sopaipilla will suddenly go, “Rrrrr!” and whistle around the house like a deflating balloon, or hide in a box or under a bit of carpet or blanket and wait for Turkish to slouch past, then try to give him a myocardial infarction with a jack-in-the-box move. Boo!
Or Turk, who fancies himself something of a bully, will try to hang one on her with one of those big ol’ paws that look like tennis balls studded with X-Acto knives, and Mia will get right up in his grill with her ears pinned back, as if to say, “Oh, yeah?” Then we’re off to the races.
No serious violence has ensued to date, just good, clean feline fun. But oddities remain.
For example, you’d think Mia, otherwise known as Her Maximum Cuteness, would be the cuddly cat. Nuh-uh. She puts up with an occasional snuggle from Herself but that’s as far as it goes. The Turk, on the other hand, will sprawl out in my lap or stretch out next to me in the bed, effectively pinning me there, since he’s about the size of a sack of traction sand. Go figure.