What A Cat!

Great show yesterday Kid. After the great show,I built a brick corner in the middle of the living room,beckoned Tommy my cat into the corner,looked all around and whispered,
"Gerry and Sean are very chipper this week. Would you put that down to the joys of Spring or a legal high?"
Tommy peered all around and whispered,
"The word on the street is, that Mr Coyle was seen coming out of a Head shop, in Stroke City."
"NO!" I yelled.
"YES!" cried Tommy. "Apparently, a member of the PSNI approached Mr Coyle and said,
"Hi you! Yes, you with the rickety legs. Would you mind telling me what you were doing in that head shop?"
And Mr Coyle replied,
"Oh officer. Mea culpa. Mea culpa. Mea maxima culpa. I have been led astray by rascals, vagabonds and varmints. I asked some young hoodies where I could purchase a flat cap and they directed me to this vile, and repulsive Head shop."
"A likely story!" I thundered. "Did the old Bill nick Thaddeaus?"
"No," said Tommy. "The officer gave him a riser and sent him on his way."
"Good," I said. "Now, Tommy, be a good boy and demolish this corner before someone trips over it."
Later, after a meal of larks' tongues and poundies,I looked at Tommy and said,
"Tommy,where do you stand on the big issue of the day. Should old Jordie take the newly born foal to the Balmoral show?"
Tommy ruminated, thought, pondered and said,
"The problem is-lactation."
"Expand Tommy," I enthused. "Lay out the pros and cons as only a member of the feline family can."
"A newly born foal," said Tommy, "requires to suckle the mother every few hours. If the young equine sprog was removed from its mother for any length of time, it could be fatal.HOW EVER," Said Tommy,"that situation could be rectified if Jordie were to milk the mare. Fill-say, five or six baby bottles, with milk and bottle feed the little foal at Balmoral."
"SORTED!" I yelled.
"Not quite," said Tommy. "Not only does the mother provide milk. Like good mothers everywhere, she provides love, security, comfort...."
"Lullabies?" I interjected.
"NO!" said Tommy. "I was going to say that the mother provides a feeling of serenity.
And where there is serenity," said Tommy,"there is peace of mind."
"Then Old Jordie is hoist with his own Captain Petard!" I yelled.
"There is a way," said Tommy. "Were old Jordie to don a donkey jacket and roll around in the pee of the mare,there is every chance, that the young foal would accept old Jordie as its mother."
"SORTED" I yelled. "The young foal shall go to the ball."
I watched in awe as Tommy, head high and back as straight as a ram rod, went out the door,like a Greek envoy who had been sent to settle a dispute in a Cullybaccyish village, North/West of Athens.
What a cat! And he never went to school you know. Tommy never set paw in any seat of learning.