Dweezil was so happy, he almost skipped into the kitchen. He was holding an email he had printed and could hardly wait to share his good news with the rest of the family.
He stopped cleared his throat and then began, "Dear Mr. Felinerino,"
Squig, dropped his morning paper, and placing his paws squarely on the table, leaned forward and hissed, "read that to me again."
"Dear Mr. Felinerino," Dweezil repeated, puzzled over his friends' reaction.
"And Mr. Felinerino would be," Squig asked, laying back his ears.
"Me," Dweezil said touching his paw to his chest, "I am Mr. Felinerino."
"You mean to tell me that for all of these years while you were giving me a load of crap about being Squigman Igmeioukowski, you were hiding a name like Felinerino? Wasn't just a few months ago that a cat named Felinerino actually had the nerve to say that a worm or an amoeba would be embarrassed to be named Igmeiouskowski,"
"There is absolutely no comparison between Felinerno and Igmeioukowski," Dweezil said airily, waving his paw for emphasis. Felinerino is melodious and bell sounding. It is regal and uplifting. While Igmeioukowski sounds like a bad combination of a lady cat in heat and duck farting,"
"Why you, miserable snake," Squig squawked preparing to hurl himself on to Dweezil. He was stopped almost in mid leap by shriek of a police whistle.
Yvette lowered her whistle and said calmly, "Is there something else you would like to share with us Dweezil, besides our last name."
"Yes," Dweezil grumbled. "My offer to buy the Katz City Cafe was excepted. We are moving to Colorado in the spring.
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