No More Mr. Nice Bird

Sylvester will lap it up. The invite to the Oscars, the seat with TomKat, the feather-soft hints that the acme of his career is imminent. Lights will dim. A silent ceremony will begin, with a tiptoeing circus of CGI mice. Sylvester will be purring like a Rolls Royce, even when Jean Dujardin, Uggie the Dog’s best friend, wins Best Actor.
     Once Dujardin has mimed his speech, I'll tweet “I tawt I taw a puddy tat”, onto his digitized superspy contact lenses. Dujardin won't hesitate. He’ll gallantly pull his statuette’s detonating pin, blowing Kodak Theatre – and Sylvester – into eternally sufferin’ succotash.

Image: Apologies to Badger and Laurie Leclair, his agent and photographer.