playing the slots at the fountain

Remember the fountain?  You know...  the one the peeps bought for us when my brother Seville had his pee-pee problems.  He had to drink more water so we all got a fountain!

Now, our fountain is gravity powered.  And gravity is pretty powerful stuff, let me tell you.  Did you know that when a jet plane or a space shuttle or a rocket ship tries to lift off from the ground, what stands in its way is gravity?  Can you imagine?  Something like a jet engine, that's got all that power, can be out-powered by gravity.  The very same power source that's in our fountain.  Boy oh boy...  the peeps found us a super-duper extra-special, especially strong fountain, if you ask me.

Well, we've found that every now and then, our fountain gurgles.  Yeah...  gurgles.  I'm pretty sure it has something to do with how the water in the fountain interacts with the power source...  that would be the gravity... remember?

At first we were all kind of scared of the gurgle but over the last few weeks, we've come to know and love it.  In fact, we've sort of turned it into a game.  We get points if we get the gurgle.  It's fun!

This is how the game works...  First you approach the fountain and take aim for drinking up the goodness that is the water.  Then, you drink and drink and drink...  and even drink a little more if you can.  If you drink enough of the watery goodness, you get the gurgle.  Then, you go into the family room or the living room or out into the garden or wherever all the cats are hangin' out at that moment and brag about getting the gurgle.  This is important as otherwise no one knows you scored some points.  We call these points, braggin' rights.  My sister Mason keeps score for everybody 'cause she's got those extra toes for counting.

But sometimes, no matter how much of the water you drink, there's no gurgle.  It can be a bit of a gamble you know.  That's okay though 'cause the gambling part is what keeps the game exciting.  Sometimes, you walk away from the fountain empty pawed.  Not a gurgle in sight.  This is very sad.  But then, a brother or sister or an auntie, or even your dad will come along and take like one teeny-tiny mouse-sized sip from the fountain and the next thing you hear is...  you guessed it...  gurgle, GURGLE, GURGLE!  Oh, the frustration that comes when you prime the fountain up for the gurgle and someone else comes along and takes all the winnings.  Oh, the agony.  The inhumanity of it all.  But then, as I said before, that's what makes the game exciting.

I've never been to one of those casino places myself but I've seen them on television.  Sometimes, they show these things called slot machines.  They're a lot like our fountain.  Only, I think maybe our fountain is better.  I mean, our fountain gives us water to drink and drinking lots of water is really, really important...  especially for my brother Seville.  Plus, our fountain is gravity powered, remember?  And gravity is oh-so-very powerful.  Those slot machine thingies seem to be electrical.  Electricity and water DO NOT mix.  This, I know, also from watching the television.   And finally, even when a family member comes along and steals the spoils of the fountain, at least it all stays in the family.  That's got to be good, right?

I've heard, there are lots of those casinos in a place called Las Vegas.  I've also heard that at those casinos, they have shows.  You know...  my brother Seville - yes, and he would be the reason we got our fountain in the first place - does a mean rendition of his poem, "Easy Peasy."  You remember his poem, don't you?  If not, check back to my post from February 15th.  You can read it there.  Anyway...  I was just thinking...  Seville could probably do a show in Las Vegas...  and at the same time, he could check out the slot machines...  and just maybe, he could introduce the people of Las Vegas to the idea of playing the slots at a fountain...  a fountain just like ours.  I bet lots of people there would be really interested in our game.  It really is oh-so-much fun.  Really, it is.

spring has sprung

Then it went away and hid.  Yup.  At least, that's what it feels like.

Here in Nova Scotia, last Wednesday and Thursday were days filled with pure, blissful, unadulterated joy.  Oh, what wonderful days those were.

I spent Wednesday afternoon sniffing the air.  It was soft and warm and full of smells I haven't smelled since before the snow came last year.  In the garden, I discovered my daffodils were starting to pop up all over the place.  And the daphne bushes - well, they're more like sticks with a couple of side sticks stuck on for good measure than bushes...  but we won't tell the peep that 'cause she's really quite proud of them, I think - had flower buds already showing some colour.  The biggest surprise of all was the primrose.  I've got a whole bed of them that I share with the peep.  Only one has flowered so far but it was the first flower of spring so was pretty special.

Wednesday night was very mild.  My fur family and I all stayed out really late, enjoying the night air.  When peep #1 arrived home from her caterwauling practise, it was way past nine and already dark.  She drove into the driveway to be greeted by my dad Jacob, my brother Seville and myself...  of course.  Oh, and that Carson cat who has been hanging around our house a lot lately, too.  We boys all came in with the peep but my sisters Constance, Beatrice and Tess stayed out for at least another hour.  Girls! 

Thursday was garbage day so peep #1 had to take the garbage bags - the vast majority of which are filled with our used kitty litter - down to the end of the driveway.  I always supervise this job of the peep's...  make sure she's taking the old litter and not the new...  that sort of thing...  but what fun it was this week.  There were birds up in the trees and they were singing the most beautiful of songs.  Way better than what went on at caterwauling practise the night before, I bet.  I guess the birds were happy to see the arrival of spring, too.  I hadn't had breakfast yet so I was salivating just a bit...  you know, 'cause of all those birds and all...  but I was a good boy.  I waited 'till we were all inside and enjoyed a good ol' brekkie out of a tin with a little dry on the side.

But those days were forever ago.  By Friday, it had turned much cooler and today...  well...  it's darn tootin' cold!  Could you believe it?  Where's my spring?  That's what I want to know.  To where did it sprung?  I want to know that, too!  Hope it remembers to come back soon.  It had better not think it can disappear 'till next year.  The peep says it will be back in a week or two.  If ever there was a time for the peep to be right about something, this would be it.  Oh, I hope to goodness she's right about the return of my spring.  I've got all four paws crossed.  Eyes, too!

oh grey-haired one

I don't often sleep with peep #1.  That's my sister Constance's job.  Occasionally my sister Tobias or my Auntie Blossom will sleep with her, too.  Sometimes though, I'll lie on the floor next to her.  I figure, it's the least I can do.

The other night, I noticed that Tobias had hopped up next to the peep.  Instead of curling up by her head, like she sometimes does, Toby was sniffing around at her hair.  Hmmm...  I thought to myself.  I wonder what that's all about.

Apparently, Tobias had noticed some grey hairs on the peep's head.  Actually, the word some is a bit of an understatement, I think.  Just what is this peep up to?  One has to wonder.  I mean...  well..  you know what I mean...  don't you?

As you all know, I'm a silver tabby.  No...  sorry...  I'm a sterling silver tabby.  Sounds so much better, don't you think?  Tobias is a sterling silver tabby, too.  We tabbies with the sterling silver hair are beautiful.  Everyone tells us so, so it must be true, right?  And people are always commenting on our ticking.  No, it has nothing to do with those awful Lyme disease carrying insect thingies.  Rather, it has to do with how each individual strand of hair on our backs has multiple colours.  At least I think that's what it's about.  Whatever it is though...  it's a good thing.  I'm sure of that!  I'm thinking that maybe the peep thinks that she can become a sterling silver tabby just like us.  But you know, it doesn't really work that way.  It's not like she's a cat or anything.  She's just a peep.

On me, the combination of charcoal grey, sterling silver and sparkling white is really quite stunning.  On the peep...  not so much.  Actually...  not at all.

She's gonna have to do something about this hair of hers.  I know that sometimes she uses these bottles of really stinky stuff to fix her hair up.  It's never gonna look as good as my fur but I'm pretty sure it will look better than what she's got going at the moment.  Better than what it has been looking like the last couple of weeks.  It's a little embarrassing you know...  having a peep walking around lookin' like she's trying to go all silver tabby on you.  And everyone knows she really can't.  Cause she's just a peep.  I'm just saying...

defies all logic and reason

Ever get a splinter in your paw?  It hurts, you know?  And what's more, it can take you totally by surprise.  One day, you're walkin' along a perfectly good piece of wood...  perhaps the railing of a deck or something...  and the next thing you know...  PAIN!  The wood was always good and strong before -  when it stayed in one piece - but for some strange reason, a little piece of it decided to break away and insidiously insert itself in the pad of your paw.  That's the splinter.  And when you get one of those nasty old things, there's nothing for it but to head off to a peep for some first aid.

I've been thinking of splinters a lot these last few days.  Not because I got one in my paw recently.  Haven't had a splinter of wood in my paw for a mouses age.  But for some reason, that nasty old man who verbally attacked peep #1, trying to tell her that the Bible implies cats should be shot and nearly making her cry the other night, reminded me of splinters.  Hmmm...  interesting...

Ever notice how humans think they're always right about everything?  Put two people in a room together with two different opinions, and each still thinks that they are right.  Put ten people in a room together with ten differing opinions and all ten of them think they're right.  How can ten different opinions all about the same thing all be right?  I may be just a cat buy hey, I know that this is simply impossible.  Ridiculous, in fact.  It defies all logic and reason.

And did you ever notice how when you disagree with one of these know-it-all splinter-type people, they're taken by surprise?  Like no one ever disagreed with them before?  Ever?  I find that next to impossible to believe.  I mean, where are their ears?  Did a mouse eat 'em or something?  Or maybe a rat?

People just can't get along with one another.  They just don't seem to know how.

Yeah, we cats usually think we're always right about stuff, too.  But that's different.  Probably because we always are right...  'cause we cats...  and cats are smart.  Way smarter than a whole lot of humans.  Way nicer, too.  For proof of this, see my last post.

Oh, what I would give for opposable thumbs.  Oh, what I would give to know how to spell 'opposable' thumbs.  Spell check just isn't helping me out here.  Neither is the peep!  Anywho...  I've said it before and I'll say it again.  I'm pretty sure that with opposable thumbs, I could take over the world.  Yup...  the whole, entire world.  And let me tell you something...  as the new-found world leader, there would be none of these splinter-type people pontificating and trying to insidiously insert their mean and nasty old opinions into the pads of our paws.  Or the hearts of our peeps, either.  There would be none of that kind of behaviour.  None at all!  I think I'd make a law or something.

how dare you!

Today's post is on a more serious note than my usual fare.  You see, last Saturday night, something really horrible happened to peep #1.  She was pretty upset about it but I told her I'd take care of it by doin' a special post, just for her, on my blog.

Many of you know how hard peep #1 has been working on this fund-raiser for her favourite animal shelter.  All week long, she's been selling tickets on that basket and knitted cat to raise funds to feed the little kitties who have no homes.  She met lots & lots of wonderful people there.  People who were really kind and generous.  And the staff at the store where they set up their table were absolutely wonderful.  It was like one big happy family.  It's no wonder I send the peeps there to shop for my food all the time.

But you know how it is, there's always one wack-a-doodle in every crowd.  And this one in particular wasn't just wacky.  He was mean.  Mean like a rabid dog with fleas...  no offence to my doggy friends out there.  I know that none of you are rabid.  As for the fleas...

My peep was just sitting there, minding her own business, reading a book and occasionally looking up to smile at those passing by when this scrawny looking man waltzed up to her.  "Do you remember me?" he asked.  The peep thought she did and said so.  But it wasn't the nice man she thought it was.  As soon as he asked, "did you read what I told you to read?" she remembered him.  He was the man who had been spouting off biblical verses to her, a few days earlier.  Once she remembered exactly who he was, the peep told him that no, she had not read the verses.  "Well, it's true, you know," he claimed.  She answered, "that may be but in the meantime, these animals need our help."

Now, this is where the really horrible part starts...  The nasty old man said, "the best help you can give those animals is a pill yeah big," and he gestured the size with his fingers.  The peep didn't know what he was talking about.  Her quizzical look prompted him to explain.  "A two two he said."  Again, the peep was at a loss.  She's not really up on these things, you know.  "A twenty-two!" the man said.  Then she realised.  The horrible little man was talking about shooting cats and the 'pill' he was referring to was a bullet!

Well, as you can imagine, my peep was shocked and appalled.  I'm surprised she didn't burst into tears right then and there.  I kind of wish she had.  That would have made him feel so very guilty and small.  And rightly so!  Who the mouses does this guy think he is?  Verbally assaulting my peep in this way and makin' her eyes burn is totally unacceptable!!!

I imagine that had my peep been a six foot two football player, he would never have attacked her in this way.  No, this is the kind of human who preys upon the weak.  He thought my peep was weaker than he so he attacked.  He thought she was in a vulnerable position, being a captive audience and all, so he attacked.  He's nothing but a predator.  People talk about us cats being predators but we've nothing on this guy.  It's not in our natures to be nasty and mean like that. 

I gotta hand it to the peep.  She stood up for herself.  She told him that what he was saying was awful...  horrible...  despicable...  and that she didn't want to have this discussion with him.  She told him to stop.  She told him she wanted him to leave.

But he wouldn't leave.  He just stood there, continuing to defend his position.  And as if it wasn't bad enough already, then he started talking about people eating cats in parts of the world.  He spoke in a low voice, always.  Probably trying to not draw too much attention to himself, in case that brought other humans to my peep's rescue.  For me, this proves he knew what he was saying was horrible and that he had no business saying it to my peep.  My poor peep grew more and more horrified with every passing moment.  Finally, she stood and threatened to pack up and leave herself.  That's when he...  finally...  left.  The peep sat down, shaken and sickened.

You know, my peep studied ACTING in university so she does know about some things...  a lot more than she knows about lots of other things like computers and getting my stuff fixed up on my blog, I can tell you that.  Anyway, she said this man was like a bad Shakespearean actor.  He memorises the lines and spews them off on cue but never really understands what any of them mean.  Never really gets the gist of the play.  My peep says she has slept through many such a bad performance.  I only wish, for my peep's sake, she could have slept through this one.

I may talk more about this incident in a future post.  What this man did was wrong.  Very, very wrong.    Obviously, my peep loves animals or she wouldn't be volunteering for an animal shelter.  Who in their right mind would say such nasty things to an animal lover?  NO ONE...  that's who!  I'm not sure I'm prepared to let this issue go.  In the meantime, I'm gonna go have a little cuddle with the peep.  She deserves one, I think.  I'll purr and purr and let her know all is right with the world.

oh those silly peeps!

The peeps have been saying all week long that they were gonna lose an hour.  I thought this was weird.  But then, lots of things peeps do are.  You get used to it after a while.

When I first heard about this impending loss, I thought to myself, "If you know you're gonna lose something, why don't you take extra special care with it so that it doesn't get lost?"  I mean, really.  That's what I would do.  If I thought I was about to lose something, I'd be extra careful with it.  Like I am with my nip when other cats are about.  That's the smart thing to do.

I saw peep #1 looking in the calendar for this missing hour.  Couldn't believe my eyes.  How's an hour gonna fit in a calendar?  Now to be honest, I don't know exactly how big an hour is but...  well...  I figure it's too big to fit between two sheets of paper.  Most things are.
 
So while the silly peeps were doing their silly search through the pages of the calendar for this supposedly lost hour thingy, I decided to look outside in the yard.  Far more likely to be there, I thought.  Things get lost outside all the time.  I looked behind bushes and peeked under some leaves.  I even gazed way, way up in the trees.  (He he...  that rhymes!)  Not finding this hour in the garden, I came back inside and checked all over the house...  in cupboards and closets and everything.  I didn't bother with the peep's purse 'cause I know that things get lost in there all the time, never to be found again.  If this missing hour was in her purse, it was a goner.  That's pretty much a sure thing.

I was really stumped.  How the mouses do you lose and hour?  And just where the mouses could it be?  I had pretty much gone over the entire house by this time and was beginning to think that it was, in fact, in the peep's purse...  also known as the 'black hole' although actually...   the purse is grey.  Silly peep.

Then, I hear peep #2 say something about getting the hour back in November.  Arrrgh!  If the peeps know the hour will be back in November, then they must know where it is.  If you know where something is, it can't really be lost!  My gosh peeps are frustrating.  I suppose it should be expected though...  after all...  they're only peeps.

Something else odd happened this week.  Usually, I'm up before the peeps.  Sometimes I even have to get them up.  But this morning, I slept in.  My breakfast was served about an hour early today.  That's a bit of coincidence...  don't you think?  I mean, the thing about it being about 'an hour' early.  'Cause we were just talking about hours and things.  Kink of weird.   Just like my peeps.

bar fight!

So the other night, peep #1 was making some catnip mice for me to send off to a couple of friends of mine.  She had knitted up the mice quite nicely (although I really believe I could have done better...  given the chance) and it was time for them to be stuffed.  She filled them with some white stuff...  that stuffing stuff...  I don't know what it's called...  stuffing, I guess.  Then, before sewing up their bottoms and adding their tails, she added the nip.

Well, you should have seen the sight.  I had a good view as I had been sitting on the couch, in the family room, supervising.  Yeah, the peep often needs my supervision.  Cats came from everywhere.  Constance emerged from under the couch, Beatrice appeared from behind the big chair.  I think my Auntie Primrose had been in her favourite nesty-type thing but she made an appearance, too.  And then there were Seville and Auntie Snowdrop...  not to mention Mason and my dad, Jacob.  Just about all the cats in my family made an appearance.

As they approached the peep - and the bag with the nip - they all held their noses up in the air, and were sniffing.  Sniffing the wonderful scent that is the nip.  Where was the nip?  Who had the nip?  How were they gonna get the nip?  You can imagine the thoughts going through their minds.  Catnip is very serious business, you know.

It's a good thing I'm not afraid of cats 'cause actually, if I were, it could have been one spooky sight.  Good also, 'cause I am a cat.  That could cause some emotional issues...  if you know what I mean.

Anyway, the peep was able to fend the cats off.  It was difficult.  I tried to help her but then I thought...  "No, I want some of the nip, too."  So actually, I wasn't much help at all.  Actually....  yeah, we won't get into that.

Finally, the peep got all the mice finished.  Once that was done, she sprinkled the remaining nip on the floor and scratching post, the couch and the chairs.  We sniffed it and rolled around in it and had oh-so-much fun.

Mason got a little inebriated though.  So did Seville.  Next thing I knew there were paws flying everywhere.  That's when peep #2 walked into the room and yelled, "Bar Fight!"  Oh, how embarrassing.  My sister and brother really must learn how to hold their nip.  I know you can't see me right now but - trust me - I'm holding my head in my paws and shaking it gently back and forth.  And in case you were wondering...  yes, that is a picture of my sister Mason, sleeping it off.  I repeat, how embarrassing.

oh, he's so gonna be in trouble now

At least, you'd think he'd be in trouble.  But oh no, not Seville.  He gets away with everything!  Hmmph!!!

Many of you know how I have two marmalade brothers...  Rushton and Seville.  They're both pretty nice guys.  I get along with them...  most of the time.  But they don't really like each other all that much.  I don't know why.  They're both marmalades.  They could start a club or something.  But no, instead they have agreed to disagree which usually means a lot of growling and an occasional hiss or spit.

The other morning, the two of them got into one of their moods.  You know...  face to face...  nose to nose...  growl to growl.  Peep #1 gently moved in between them and said her usual - and oh so fruitless - spiel, "Love one another...  you're brothers...  yada yada yada..."  We all tend to tune her out after the first few seconds.  Then, the peep bent down and tickled the tops of their heads.

Rushton, being Rushton, looked up at the peep with his wonderfully angelic face, enjoying the top 'o the head tickles.  Seville, on the other hand, stood up on his hind legs, reached out with both front paws and took a swipe at the peep.  All claws were out.  They had to be.  The peep squealed.  Aw, who am I trying to kid...  she let out a scream so loud I'm surprised they didn't hear it on the space station.  Got her hand out of the way mighty quickly, too.

Misdirected aggression...  that was what she called it.  Give me a break!  I call it bad behaviour.  But oh, no...  like I said before, that Seville gets away with everything!  I thought for sure he'd be in trouble this time.  But no, the peep even made excuses for him like, "I should have known better" and, "It was my own fault."

I took a good look at the peep's hand.  Oh, you should see it.  There are at least eight distinct gouges in the skin.  Five look like one very big paw did 'em all at once.  The other three are split between her thumb and the other side of her hand.  And one is super long...  gotta be at least a mouse's tail length.  Don't know how Seville managed that.  He's a talented scratcher.  I have to give him credit where credit is due.  The peep will recover.  She's been through this kind of thing before.  She knows the drill.


I guess with Seville, once he gets his mad on, he's gonna lash out.  The peep was foolish to volunteer him her hand.

I have to admit that I don't really get this misdirected aggression thing though.  Probably 'cause I'd never dream of scratching the peep.  Not ever!  I love my peep way too much to hurt her like that.  But don't let my good nature fool you.  Anyone else out there who dares to hurt my peep should watch their back.  I'd be on it in a second with all claws out...  if you know what I mean.  No one - and I mean no one - messes with my peep.  Except...  apparently...   for Seville.  Hmmph!