he huffed and he puffed

Let me in!  LET ME IN!

No way there, Mister.  There's NO WAY you're getting in here and would you mind stop making such a din?

Then I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll BLOW your house DOWN.

You big ol' windbag!  You already have huffed and you've puffed a lot, too.  In fact, you've huffed and you've puffed so much, you're beginning to look like a red-faced clown.  MOUSES!

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What's that, Peepers?  Pardon me? YOU'RE GONNA HAVE TO SPEAK UP, PEEPERS!  I can barely hear you.

WHAT?  Oh, you want me to stop yelling out the window?  You want me to stop making all that noise?  But...  But...  But...

BUT I'M NOT THE ONE MAKING IT.

Well yeah, I am making some of it but I'm not making it all.  MOUSES!

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Any of you kitties out there ever have problems like this with your peeps?  Any of you?  Any of you kitties have peeps who wanna blame you for stuff you didn't even do?

Now normally, I don't make too much of an issue 'bout this sort of thing because let's face it, there are plenty of naughty things I HAVE actually done for which I didn't get blamed but still..  still... still...

Awww...  MOUSES!

In a perfect world, a kitty would never get the blame.  Not even when he did get up to mischief and certainly not when the mischief-maker was someone else.  No, in a perfect world, the blame would always be laid at someone else's paws.  I mean, feet.  No, I mean paws.  No, I definitely mean feet 'cause peeps have feet and not paws and in a perfect world, all blame would always belong to the peeps.  MOUSES!

I mean, it's not as if no peep, ever, has horked up a hairball and..

Oh, maybe it kinda is.  Maybe it kinda is that no peep, ever, has horked up a hairball on account of peeps not licking their fur on account of their not having any fur to lick.  MOUSES!

But if peeps went around licking the tops of their heads, then...

Nah, they could never do that 'cause their tongues wouldn't reach.

But if they were to grow fur on their arms and legs and stuff...

Well then they would have hairballs and let's face it, they'd be horking 'em up all over the place.  MOUSES!

And do you know what else they'd probably be doing?  Blaming us cats.  MOUSES!

Just for the record, I would like to state that if a handsome marmalade mancat happens to hork up a hairball on the carpet and some peep comes along and carelessly and stupidly steps in it, it is not the handsome mancat's fault.  No cat, ever, has told a peep to step in anything they've horked up, I can assure you of that.

I mean, what do they expect?  Do they expect us cats to go around cordoning off all hairball sites. like crime scenes or something?  MOUSES!

But all that is neither here nor there for it has nothing to do with the windstorm we had the other night.  The windstorm that I was yelling at.

Oh my mouses, you should have seen it.  You should have HEARD it, for sure.  Perhaps you did for it was pretty hard to hear anything else but that ol' wind huffing and puffing and blowing like there was no tomorrow.  For a while there, I was beginning to wonder if there would be a tomorrow for that wind was on overdrive, for sure.

Branches of trees were swaying this way and that.  Branches!  Never mind the branches.  WHOLE TREES were swaying.  The big pine ones that are too tall for a cat to even dream of ever climbing. They were swaying so hard, I thought that at any moment we might have one falling down and landing on our roof.  Maybe even coming right through it!

Never seen anything like it.  Never heard anything like it, either.

So you can understand why, at one point, I felt the need to yell at that ol' storm and tell him to knock it off.  You can understand why I would need to do that, right?  Of course you can.

Peep #1, on the other paw, felt otherwise.  Apparently, when I was voicing my concerns, my concerns were deemed to be being voiced, too loudly.

Not my fault I had to yell to be heard over all that noise that ol' windstorm was making.  Not my fault at all.  MOUSES!

When you think about it, instead of complaining that I was being too loud, the peep should have been thanking me.  Thanking me that I told that ol' windstorm to shut up because I would like to point out, right here and right now, that by Friday morning, the windstorm had blown itself out.  Who here is gonna tell me that that wasn't my doing?  I mean, had I not told that ol' wind to be quiet, it might still be blowing up a storm today.  Maybe, just maybe, that ol' windstorm stopped huffing and puffing because I yelled at it and told it to go away.

And for the record, whereas cats should never have to accept blame, praise and appreciation are a totally different matter.  We'll accept praise and appreciation, any time peeps are willing to dole it out..  We'll even accept applause.   MOUSES!