The Ballad of Tough Tom

That’s right! Those are tufts of my fur yer lookin’ at. What about it? You don’t see the other cat, do you? What are a few hairs compared to an ear? I didn’t get the whole of his off ’cause he was already headin’ south by then, havin’ had enough. But it was eminently satisfactory.

My name is Tough Tom. And I’m King of the Park. See?

When the sun shines, you know, it warms the tops of the picnic tables for us. We like that. We like to lie on them. Sometimes we get chased off by the man who cuts the grass, ’cause we leave paw prints on the tables. But most time nobody bothers us, ’cept when there’s lots of people in the park. We have our own crowd that comes around here to sun. – But I says who does, and who don’t, see! ’Cause I’m King of the Park. You got a problem with that?

So one day this stranger he walks up and says, “What’s your name?”

So I says, “Tough Tom, and I’m King of the Park. What’s yours?”

And he says, “Tough Charlie, and I guess you ain’t King of the Park no more.”

“Oh, I get it,” I says, “You’re lookin’ for a little action.”

“How did you guess?” says Tough Charlie.

I’m measuring him up in the meantime, and he looks like he’s a lot of cat. Yellow and white he is. Yellow is a colour I ain’t partial to. And though I weren’t lookin’ for no trouble that day, like seein’ as how I’m King of the Park and all, it was up to me to oblige. So I says, “Shall we dispense with all the preliminaries? Like all the growling and the hissing and the fluffing and the exchange of insults. Waste of time, when you know you’re goin’ to rumble.”

“Okay by me,” says Tough Charlie, “Let’s go.”

And he’s up onto me, real quick like, leading with his right. Oh boy, a sucker punch! But I guess I’m a little dopey what from lying out in the hot sun on that warm table. And maybe he’s got half a pound on me as well. So I’m on my back before I know it, and he just misses gettin’ my eye out.

I give him my left on the end of his nose and try a roll-over, but he’s too smart for that and goes for my eye again. Only this time, I’m waitin’ for it. He don’t get the eye, but I get his ear.

Down on the ground we go, and underneath, and back up on top again, with the gang all sittin’ around, waitin’ to see who is gonna be King of the Park. He gives me the raking kick with the back legs. That’s when I lost all that fur you see about. But I got that ear, and it’s startin’ to come away.

So I guess Tough Charlie maybe he thinks it over, that what with only one ear and all, he ain’t gonna do so good no more with the broads, and he hollers, “Okay, so I was wrong. Leggo! You’re still King of the Park.”

That Tough Charlie, he was all right. And now he’s slinkin’ outa here with what’s left of his ear. So I had to laugh. Tough Tom and Tough Charlie, and the Battle of the Park! They’ll sing about that one on the back fence for many a night!

That’s my story. Now I’m back on top of this table for a little clean-up. Any objections?

I’m Tough Tom, and I’m King of the Park.