Taking three days (of strips) to get around to pulling a kitten out of the bushes seems excessive. It’s not as if Violet and Cherry had spent the time deep-thinking the value of happiness as a desired philosophical position or debating whether a restaurant that serves Fettucine Alfredo should call itself an Italian restaurant (it shouldn’t).

Golly gee-whiz! All we have here is:  Cherry discovered a kitten in the bushes. But, to add some melodrama:  Maybe it’s the bastard offspring of that gigolo catabout, Banjo Cat (I bet Rivera wouldn’t have come up with that obscure pun).