Are Wedding Bells About to Ring For Tommy?

Great show yesterday kid, even though it clashed with sports day in Cullybaccy, where Fred "The Greyhound" Romano ran the mile in just under two hours.
"I won't sleep a wink tonight," said Tommy my cat. "I shall worry all night about the three, little, orphaned hedgehogs. Poor little mites," sighed Tommy. "No mammy and no daddy, as the song so aptly puts it, they are no body's hedgehogs."
"Worry not!" I yelled. "The little hogs who reside in the hedge will be all right thanks to the kind woman who is supplying them with milk."
"You don't mean!" cried Tommy.
"Of course not!" I yelled. "The kind woman feeds them milk from little bottles."
"Hedgehogs have a great love for apples," said Tommy. "Do you know how the hedgehogs carry the apples home from the orchard?"
"In their pockets?" I ventured.
"No," said Tommy. "The crafty little hedgehogs roll on the fallen apples. The apples stick to their prickly spines and the little hedgehogs run home covered in apples."
"How do they get the apples off their prickly spines?" I asked.
Tommy himed and hawed and spluttered,
"The hedgehogs eat the apples from each other's spines."
"And what happens," I said, "if one, lazy, little, hedgehog comes home with NO apples on his spines?"
"In that case," said Tommy, "he would get a riser and be cast out into eternal darkness."
"Firm but fair," I muttered. "Firm but fair."
As the sun slowly made its towards the East, the silence stretched like pre-war knicker elastic. Tommy began to fidget. I sat with all the composure and ugliness of an Easter island statue.
Suddenly, Tommy sprang to his feet and yelled,
"I may have to get married!"
"ZOINKS!" I cried. "What do you mean, you may have to get married?"
"It's Tiddles, the ginger tabby cat at number 27!" yelled Tommy.
"She is about to kittle and has put me in the frame."
"I told you to be careful!" I roared.
"I was," cried Tommy. "I always looked both ways before I crossed the street to speak to her."
I paced the floor, the walls, the ceiling and said,
"No one in my family has ever fathered a kitten and neither have you. When you were a mere lump of a kitten I got you- NEUTERED!"
"MUTILATION!" screamed Tommy. "How dare you cut, slash, scar and mutilate my nether region!"
"Had I not," I screamed, "you would soon be pushing a pram with six, mewing kittens in it!"
"Who carried out this-this-outrage on my person?" cried Tommy.
"Sweeney Todd the vet," I answered.
"That can not be!" yelled Tommy. "Everytime I meet Sweeney he always says,
"Hello Tommy, how are they hanging?"
"He says that to everyone," I sighed, "even me. But believe me, Tommy cat, I have NEVER lain legs akimbo on a vet's table."
"There's a first time for everything," glowered Tommy, as he went upstairs with a small mirror in his hand.
The scream when it came was loud, long, shrill and piercing!
Such a big fuss about something so little!