Puss 'N Boots, 2007

         Stacy stared out the window, unaware of the bleak, gray sky that clouded her long-range cat vision.  They were out there somewhere, the cat wranglers of New America, and they would be searching for her, the feline princess of Oak City. 
         The wranglers were a new breed of cowboy, in a world where intelligent animals could speak telepathically to their human counterparts and guide them or threaten them into submission.  Stacy tried to play the part of an innocent kitten, but somehow the echoing of constant mewing in the minds of her "owners" eventually drove them mad.  Stacy didn't understand this, she had never used human words so they shouldn't have been scared, but Stacy didn't know that humans weren't quite used to animals projecting their thoughts telepathically. 

         Stacy grew bored of the view from the window and left to indulge in some catnip.  "If my kitten followers knew, they'd impeach me or something," she thought, but being an addict of the stuff, "Kitty Krank," as the feline world referred to it, she was a slave to the buzz. 

         Suddenly, the sound of galloping hooves could be heard in the distance.  Stacy tried to focus her vision as she leapt from the tray of kitty litter, directly into the wall.  Upon regaining consciousness, The cat noticed that the horses sounded much closer and side-stepped her way to her food dish in an intoxicated manner.  Her plan was to gorge herself for the much needed energy, and because she had the "munchies."  Then she would quietly assassinate the cat-hunters while they perched on their dim-witted mounts. 

         She would do this by convincing the chihuahua that resided with her that the horse's tails held the secret that would elevate the dogs to a more powerful position in the food chain.  Stacy approached Fifi and passed on her made-up secret.  Fifi immediately scrambled out the doggie-door, yipping a war cry that could be heard yards away.  He raced toward the towering figures, leapt into the air and bit down hard on the thick strands of hair that protruded from the horse's rear.  Stacy crept onto the roof of the house she had been in, the home of her former owners, and silently slid to the edge.  With a menacing yowl, she threw herself into a precise arc, noticing the confused looks of the cat wranglers below who were trying to locate the sound of a discinct yipping noise. 

         Marcy abruptly sat up from her sleeping position on the couch as she awoke.  The kitten that had been sleeping on her chest jumped to the floor, arousing a nervous chihuahua.  "Damnit Bob," she exclaimed, "next time we watch one of these stupid western flicks, the animals go in the bedroom, I had a hell of a dream!"

         Her husband nodded, fixed on the screen, mouthing the actor's words as Marcy rose to get some water.  The kitten settled back onto the now empty couch with a satisfied purr, and though Bob's attention was drawn to the flickering screen, he could have sworn he heard someone whisper "Victory!"