Jeremy Licksalot and Catherine Mattedfurr


Let the grooming begin.

“Jeremy Licksalot had always been used to the heat. Since he was just a small kitten, he’d spent so much time meowing in the heat of Meowstralia. All the Meowaroos and Moewalas were used to it too. It was part of how they lived. The scorching heat would bake the meowscape into submission all day long, and the residence of Meowstralia would learn to meow with it. Birds would sing “chiv” and the Meowtrees would sway in time to the blistering sun rays. It could be compared to a running fan forced meowven cooking the country until it was meowercooked.

Catherine Mattedfurr was not so lucky. She wasn’t a native of Meowstralia – She was used to the cold, shimmering drifts of Meowussia. But, she was in this oven… Scorching, overmeowting. Jeremy Licksalot knew he had to do something fast to prevent Catherine from descending into heat driven madness or worse.┬áHe thought long and hard about the actions he could meow, the tactics he could plan, but it all came down to one resolution. Jeremy Licksalot blinked…

Jeremy Licksalot’s coarse, grainy tongue scrapped over Catherine’s furr. Catherine’s furr suddenly became a meowzone of various matted and clumped sections of hair in wake of the tongue onslaught. She hadn’t even begun to realise the coarse meowndpaper like weapon of licking destruction rampaging it’s way through her fine, soft furr. It was a meowssacre.”

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