The Sad Story of Cattown

This morning, Snaps told me about a mythical place I've never heard of: Cattown. It's a place where all cats live before they end up in their mommy's tummies. Sounds like a wonderful place, right?

Wrong! Snaps continued.

 Did you know that Cattown has segregation? There's segregation in the restaurants and stores and even the public buildings.

Wow! Are the dogs and cats segregated? Because that would make sense.

No. Only white cats and some beige cats and white dogs and some beige dogs as long as they have some white on them.

And there were restaurants just for black cats and brown cats. 

Those sound like fun places.

They are. Lots of fun.

Still, despite the raucous good time of the all black and brown cat bars, Cattown sounds harsh, but it had a hero.

An unlikely one.

 Mum, did you know that Floyd protested one of the restaurants. It was really bad. He protested and the cats threw their milk at him, and water and they even threw their kibble.

It was bad. Even the kittens threw milk at him.

Even the kittens? That is surprising. Did other black cats protest too?

No. Maunalani just looked at the signs and said, "Unfair."

Not a woman of action, huh? We can't all be Rosa Parks.

But then, one day, did you know? All the cats from Cattown get picked up and taken to all the shelters.

That's how we got Pink Floyd!

Yeah! And don't you think he was glad to be out of Cattown?

I do. That place sounds like a crap hole.