Sunday, 18 February 2018

the pragmatist

"You're ever the optimist Seville, aren't you."

Are you askin' me a question, there, Mason?  Or are you just callin' me names?  Or are...  Wait a minute.  Callin' me an optimist isn't callin' me names.  Least not in a bad way.  So uh...  Exactly about what am I bein' optimistic, pray tell.

"Well I see you've placed an order to Nip Seeds & Stuff."

Actually, what I really did was place ANOTHER order to Nip Seeds & Stuff.  The first two orders, they messed up.

"They did?  How?"

They sent the seeds to the peep.  MOUSES!

Mason furrowed her brow.  "How was that messing things up?"

You have met the peep, right?  You do know 'bout her lack of nip-growin' skills?  Sendin' nip seeds to the peep is like pushing 'em in front of a firin' squad or somethin'.  Peep #1 has never met a nip seed she couldn't kill.  MOUSES!

Mason nodded in agreement.  "Then why are you placing another order?  Won't she kill those seeds as readily as she killed the others?"

If she gets her paws on 'em, she will.  Thing is, THESE SEEDS, I'm gonna plant myself.  I'm gonna make sure these little babies are planted right.  MOUSES!

"Have you ever actually planted anything before, Seville?  When it comes to gardening, you usually take on more of a supervisory role."

You take that back.  I've gotten my paws dirty MORE than once.  I've dug my fair share of holes in the garden beds, for sure.

Plus, occasionally...  Occasionally I've even been known to assist with the fertilizin', too.  MOUSES!

"FYI Sivvers, the peep doesn't consider what you left amongst the primroses to be fertiliser," Mason scowled.

Poop is poop, Mason.  I don't make the rules.  MOUSES!

But anyway...  Anyway, what else am I supposed to do?  And I'm talkin' about the growin' the seeds myself bit, not that other...  You know...  Other unmentionable thing.  It's not like I can teach the peep how to grow nip. 

Or CAN I...


Nah, I tried signin' her up for that course or whatever it was on Facebook, but it turned out to be a class in growin' grass, and NOT the kinda cat grass we cats like, but that other kind.  You know...  The pans and skillets type.

"For the love of mouses, WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT Seville?  Seriously, sometimes I wonder about you."

And sometimes I wonder 'bout you, too, Mason.  Like how come you can't understand a simple explanation of the facts when I explain 'em to you.  Fact is, I signed the peep up for some kinda Facebook course or event on growin' legalised non-cat cat grass, and she TOTALLY IGNORED it, for sure.  She just clicked the delete button like it had never even been there.  MOUSES!

And that, sister dear, is why I HAVE TO TAKE MATTERS into my own four paws, and grow these babies myself.  MOUSES!

"Whatever."  Mason rolled her eyes.  "Do you have some pots?"


Oh, you mean like flower pots, don't you.  Heheh...  heh...  Uh, yeah.  I have the flower pots the peep used when she killed off the first two batches of seed.  Plus, I have her leftover pottin' mix.  At least I know where it is.  So you see, I'm all set.  As soon as my third nip seed order arrives, I'm good to go.  MOUSES!

"Where are you going, Seville?" Rushton asked as he walked into the room.  "Anywhere nice?"

"Seville is ordering more catnip seed, Rushy," explained Mason.

"You're quite the optimist there, aren't you?" asked Rushton.  "Didn't Peep #1 just kill a bunch of nip seeds?  Are you really going to get her MORE seeds to kill?  Or have you deluded yourself into thinking that THESE ones, she'll manage to grow?"

I just finished explainin' all this stuff to Mason, and I'm not about to explain it all again.


"Suit yourself," grumbled Rushton, "but I think you're being far too optimistic if you think the peep can learn how to grow catnip.  She has a track record, you know.  And it's not very good."  With that, Rushy turned and left the room.

Maybe I am bein' too optimistic...

Nah, that can't be right.  In fact, I don't think I'm bein' optimistic at all.  If I were bein' optimistic, I'd paw these seeds over to the peep when they arrived, thinkin' she could grow 'em herself.

Maybe what I'm bein' is pessimistic.  Maybe I'm bein' too pessimistic, thinkin' the peep is incapable of ever learnin' how to successfully grow the nip.

Nah, that can't be right, either.  As Rushy said, the peep has a track record.  And it's not very good.  MOUSES!

What I'm really bein' is...

I do believe...

I do believe that what I'm really bein' is a PRAGMATIST.

That's right.  I've accepted the reality of the peep's many failures, and I'm doin' somethin' about it.