50,000 big ones!

I have been neglectful in my duties.  My duties of passing on the bling.  Well, actually...  I wasn't the one bein' neglectful.  Ol' peepers has made a few disparaging remarks, implying that the neglect was mine but we all know that it was all her fault.  We know this because it's always her fault.  You know what they say...  when in doubt, blame the peep!  Everyone says it so it has gotta be true and that's a fact.

You all know my pal Basil, right?  He writes the amazing blog, Basil the Bionic Cat's Blog.  Well, a while back, Basil honoured me with the Bestest Kitty Blogger in the Cosmos Award.  What a neat name, huh?  You get this award and boom!  Bam!  You're one of the bestest kitties in the whole wide cosmos.  That's like the universe or something.  Neat!  Thank you so much Basil.  What a great pal you are.

When one receives the Bestest Kitty Blogger in the Cosmos Award, one has to do only one thing and that thing is to pass the award along to at least five other bloggers.  Basil created this award so that we would all "share the love across the interwebs."  Those are his words, not mine, but boy are they ever good ones.  So I am officially passing the Bestest Kitty Blogger in the Cosmos Award to...

And the winners are...
- Pillster @ Pillster's Pages
- Patchy Meow @ The Five Cats Chronicles
- Dash @ Dash Kitten
- Purrla @ Singapore Kitty
- Angel @ angelswhisper2011
- Felix & Jasper @ Felix and Jasper Blogalot

Next thing I knew, my pal Pillster, over at the fantastic blog Pillster's Pages presented me with the Inspiring Blog Award.  Does that mean that he finds my blog inspiring?  I hope so.  Pillster, I am honoured.  Thank you so much.

In accepting the Inspiring Blog Award, all one must do is pass it along.  That's right, just pass it along to deserving recipients.  Pillster didn't say how many or anything so I'm gonna choose six.

And the winners are...
- Sushi @ Sushi's Diary
- Texas @ Texas, a Cat in New York
- Selina @ One Eye on the Future
- Bumpy @ Mr Bumpy's Cat
- Brian @ Brian's Home
- Pasha @ Pasha

But Pillster didn't stop there.  He also awarded me with the Purrime Ministerette of Planet Purrth Award.  What a fancy schmancy name for a fancy schmancy award.  Now, there are some rules that go with this award and, unfortunately, I'm not quite sure I understand them all.  It's a little embarrassing to admit but I just don't.  I'm not entirely to blame for this however because firstly, when I received the award, I believe I was still on pain meds for my knee.  You remember what happened to my knee, right?  And secondly, if anyone is to blame, all paws should be pointed at the peep.  Remember, when in doubt, blame the peep!  Works every time.

My pal Pillster writes, "In their infinite wisdom, the Purrime Ministerettes have made seven rules with which we have to comply to formally accept the award:"

1.  Bow for your Purrime Ministerettes and confirm on your blog
     you have done so.
2.  Show a picture of you watching Purrime Ministerette movies.
     Pictures or it didn't happen.
3.  Tell Planet Purrth that it needs a change and explain what kind
     of change you have in mind.
4.  Ask your Purrime Ministerettes what you never dared to ask
     before.
5.  Bow again for your purrime Ministerettes and confirm on your blog you have done so.
6.  Forward the Purrime Ministerette of Planet purrth Award to at least 3 other blogging anipals.
7.  Do not chance the rules without explicit written Purrime Ministerette purrmission.

Well, you read 'em just as I read 'em.  Hope you can do a better job than I but here goes...

Firstly, I bowed.  Yes, I bowed and I'm confirming that now.  Secondly, I'm supposed to watch a movie but I don't think Stephen Harper has done any movies.  That's why I couldn't take a picture.  Sorry 'bout that.  Thirdly, I've gotta tell Planet Purrth that it needs to change something.  Hmmm...  I know!  I think Planet Purrth needs to change the rule 'bout not changin' these rules 'cause I'm trying not to do so but I have a sneaky suspicion that I'm screwin' something up here.  Sorry 'bout that but...  you know...  stuff happens.  Fourthly, I'm gonna ask what I have never dared to ask before.  Okay, I'm gonna ask the Purrime Ministerettes how it was that a senator was appointed to represent a province who didn't really live in the province he was supposed to represent.  Actually, I'd really appreciate an answer on that one.  I just bowed again.  That takes care of rule number five.  I'll skip down to rule number seven and apologise again if I messed up the rules.  And now back to rule number six.

And the winners are...
- Spitty @ Spitty Speaks
- Sammy @ onespoiledcat
- Felix & Jasper @ Felix and Jasper Blogalot

Now, I have one more award to present.  It's a very special award.  It's a brand spankin' new award.  I would like to introduce to the world-wide blogosphere, the MY FAVOURITE THINGS AWARD.
Ta-dah!!! 

The MY FAVOURITE THINGS AWARD was created by yours truly to celebrate a milestone of mine.  That milestone would be fifty thousand hits to my blog.  That's right...  fifty thousand big ones!  Yoo-hoo!  YOO-HOO!!!

There are some things one must do in acceptin' this award but they're pretty simple things.  All one must do is thank the blogger who gave you the award and put in a little linky to their blog, on yours.  Then post the award on your blog and tell all your readers what your six favourite things are.  And finally, pass the award on to as many bloggers as you would like.  It could be just a couple or lots and lots.  Whatever tickles your whiskers.

As I'm startin' this off, I'll tell you all what my six favourite things are.
1.  Nip.  Bet you knew that, right?
2.  My peeps.
3.  My pals.
4.  My fur family.
5.  Playin' in my garden.
6.  My all-fixed-up knee.

Now I'm gonna pass the award on and the winners are...
- Herman @ It's a Wonderpurr Life
- Spitty @ Spitty Speaks
- Savvy @ Savannah's Paw Tracks
- Sammy @ onespoiledcat
- Katie @ Katie Isabella
- Katie & Waffles Too @ GLOGIRLY
- Nellie @ Cat from Hell
- Mario @ Mario's Meowsings
- Speedy @ Speedy the Cheeky House Bunny
- Basil @ Basil the Bionic Cats Blog
- Simba @ Simba's Antics
- da tabbies @ TROUT TALKIN TABBIES

So there you have it, my friends.  Four awards bein' handed out to some pretty amazing bloggers.  CONGRATULATIONS TO ALL THE WINNERS!

And I just wanna add that I would have liked to have handed out the MY FAVOURITE THINGS AWARD to many, many more blogs.  But I figured that if I gave it to everyone, then there would be no one left to give it to.  Know what I mean?  I sure do hope all the recipients pass it around the blogosphere so that everyone gets their paws on it and gets to add it to their blogs.

what a mess!

A couple of days ago, I was out relaxing on the driveway, enjoying the evening air.  The peep was doin' stuff in the garden like she does.  I wasn't really supervising her though.  I was taking a break from supervising as it had been a long day.  I thought I could leave her alone, to her own devices, for an hour or two.  Boy was I wrong.  Next thing I know, ol' peepers appears with a ball of string in one hand and scissors in the other.  String?  Scissors??  In the garden???  MOUSES!

She headed over to one of the trees in what I call my little woodland garden.  Curious, I had to get up and see what she was up to.  So did Seville.  The two of us padded over.

The peep started hauling away at a honeysuckle vine.  It was sprawling all over the ground 'cause it had nothing to climb.  Of course, Seville was right in there, chasing the vine.  I thought about doin' that myself but, like I said, it had been a long day and I was tired.  Sure did look like fun, though, until ol' peepers complained to Seville that he should leave the honeysuckle alone.  Seville gave her a look, turned tail and headed out of the garden.  I think he was a little miffed, to be honest.

Next thing I know, the peep is playing with her ball of string, tossing it up into the air, flinging it about this way and that.  What a sight!  I laughed so hard my sides hurt.  She tossed it once and then twice and then a third time.  That last time seemed to do the trick.  She seemed happy with that last toss.  The previous two had produced a few mumbles and grumbles. 

Then the peep tied one end of the string to the very bottom of the honeysuckle plant before cutting the string and tying its other end to the plant, too.  Then she started tying the honeysuckle onto the string.  That was when I realised what she was up to.  She has done this before.  She was tryin' to train the honeysuckle to grow up into the tree.  Personally, I think she should just have sent it to obedience school although I must admit that watching her in the training process was pretty funny.

"Oh peepers...  you do realise that Seville is gonna be in here playing with all that string, don't you?"  She answered with some comment 'bout it bein' twine and not string.  I say, if it looks looks like string and acts like string...  it is string!

The show was over...  or so I thought.  Next thing I know, the peep heads over to another tree.  This one much bigger and taller.  Surely she wasn't thinking 'bout training a honeysuckle up that tree?  How would she ever reach the bottom branch?

She started with her flinging of the string act, again.  This time was even funnier than the first.  She tossed it up and, apparently, there wasn't enough string.  The string didn't get very far but the little reel to which it was attached left the string and flew to safety several feet away.  Hmmm..  the peep said, just before she started searching around the ground lookin' for something.  I thought about pointing out the string's reel's whereabouts but she actually seemed to be lookin' for something else.  Eventually, she found a stick.  Yeah, that's right, a stick.  She tied the end of the string to the stick and started flinging that about.  You should have seen her.

Fourth or fifth try, she got the string and the stick over the branch for which she had been aiming.  Did I say over?  Sorry, I meant on...  stuck to...  still up on it.  The stick must have decided it didn't like being flung about 'cause it got itself stuck in the tree and wasn't coming down.  I figured that was the end of the show but no...  ol' peepers had another ball of string!  So she started the string flinging about business once more.  I had to lie down 'cause I was laughing so hard I thought I might trip over my tail or something if I remained standin' up.  Let's just say, ol' peepers is not likely to be recruited as a baseball pitcher in the near future.

The string flinging went on for quite some time but, eventually, the peep had the string where she wanted it and a few other places, as well.  I looked up at the tree.  It looked like someone had gone crazy with the ol' crazy stringy thingy stuff.  There was string EVERYWHERE!  What a mess, I thought.

"It'll look nice when the vines grow up the twine and bloom," said the peep.
"Am I gonna live long enough to see that?" I asked.
"Yes, Nissy, you will," she answered
"Are you sure?  'Cause let me tell you, you're killing me with this little comedy routine of yours!"

Then, believe it or not, the peep headed over to another tree.  One even taller than the last.  There was no way she was gonna manage stringing this one up.  I was gonna suggest she try using that stick to aid with the flinging of the string but then I realised that no, she couldn't do that.  The stick was still stuck up in the other tree.

With her first fling, she overshot the intended branch and the ball of string flew over to some evergreen trees.  It was over by the base of 'em.  She went to retrieve it but her hair got stuck in the branches.  Once unstuck, she attempted to retrieve the string again.  This time she got the tree branches stuck up in her hair!  Sure do hope she has some good shampoo on paw 'cause let me tell you, last time I got that tree sap stuck in my fur, I was pickin' it out of my teeth for days.

Eventually, ol' peepers had the string where she wanted it which, to me, appeared to be pretty much everywhere.  I'm pretty sure neighbourhood peeps are gonna be walkin' past the house, staring at my peep's string.  Yes, it's her string.  I'm assuming no responsibility for any of the string.  This is all the peep's doing.  Like I said.  I was on a supervisory break.  Not my fault the peep is incapable of bein' unsupervised.  Not my fault at all.  I'm pretty sure she was born that way.  MOUSES!

you gonna drink that milk?

Yesterday, ol' peepers looked at me and asked, "And are you going to drink that milk, Nissy?"  I must admit, I was a little confused about the question.  Firstly, there was no saucer of milk waiting for me to drink it and secondly, the peep knows I prefer cream over milk.  I mean...  just what was she gettin' at?  MOUSES!

Apparently, I've been milkin' stuff for all its worth.  At least, that's what peep #1 says.  Personally, I don't see how that's possible.  I don't have any cows to milk.  No goats, either.  Really, I don't think I'm milking, anything.

I think my problems came to a head with my desire to use up a whole half of the family room couch, yesterday.  I just didn't feel like sharing.  I didn't feel like sharing with my sister Constance and I certainly didn't feel like sharing with any ol' peeps.  What I felt like doing was stretching out from the tip of my tail to the tips of my paws and when I do a stretch like that, I take up a lot of room.  I'm a pretty long cat, you see, so I need my space.

Besides, the other half of the couch was still available.  A peep could have moved my Auntie Blossom and sat down, there.  Plus, there was always the floor...

When I didn't want peep #1 to pick me up and move me over to the side a bit, I gave her that look I've been workin' on for the past few weeks.  That oh-woe-is-me-pity-the-kitty-with-the-sore-knee look.  It's a pretty good look.  Quite effective. 

At least it was quite effective up until sometime yesterday.  Apparently, the peep has come up with some countermeasures and those countermeasures for my oh-woe-is-me-pity-the-kitty-with-the-sore-knee look are a "you gonna drink that milk" coupled with a narrowing of the eyes and a pursing of the lips.  Those countermeasures are somewhat effective, themselves.  MOUSES!

So I nicely reminded the peep about my leg.  You know the one.  The one from which my doctor shaved off all the fur!  I stretched it out so that she could get a better look.  Usually, that tactic works like a charm but this time, no luck.  She wasn't fallin' for it.

That was about the time when ol' peepers reminded me what had happened the day before yesterday.  I was over by the big ol' oak tree, standing guard.  There's a gigantic grey squirrel who hangs out over there and I wanted to tell him he should hang out, elsewhere.  Also, nosey neighbour cat walks past that tree when he comes over - uninvited - and I wanted to remind him that he was...  well...  uninvited, if you know that I mean. 

While I was standing guard, the peep was busy watering the roses in the pots.  One moment I was at the tree and the next, I was over by the garage chasing Mr. Chipmunk with my brother Rushton.  We were trying to corner him over by the corner of the garage when ol' peepers came over and ruined the sporting event by helpin' Mr. Chipmunk get away. 

"You were over by that tree," the peep said, pointing to the oak.  "How did you get here so quickly?" she asked.  I turned tail and walked away.  I should have hobbled.  I really should have put on a bit more of a limp.  My walkin' away gracefully after participating in a squirrel chasin' event likely signified to the peep that my knee was pretty much better.  MOUSES! 

And I may have possibly added to the ol' milkin' theory later on, when I jumped up onto the chair in my office.  That's the chair that sits next to my desk which holds my computer in my office.  It's my chair.  I need it to write my blog.

Well, at the time, ol' peepers happened to be sittin' on my chair but she wasn't using up the whole thing.  She was sort of perched on the edge and there was plenty of room for me to get in between her and the back of it.  Plenty of room for me to squeeze my way in there and then, gradually, push her off. 

I mean...  I needed to work on my blog and so I needed access to my computer.  Ol' peepers was only borrowing it for somethin' silly like workin' on her silly book.  My blog is far more important than her book.  People read my blog.

To make my point, I pointed over to my 2013 Best Blog Writing Nose-to-Nose Award.  I wanted to remind the peep just who was the writer in this family.  Apparently, my little reminder was unappreciated.  Apparently, I've been milkin' that trophy of mine for all it's worth, too.  Well, that's accordin' to the peep.  Personally, I think she's just jealous.  She has never received a trophy for any of her writing.  I think that says it all.

Then, the peep had the audacity to remind me that I have still not officially accepted the last few awards given to me by my pals in the blogosphere.  I had to admit, she had me there.  I have been slackin' in that area but still, she didn't have to remind me. 

So I made ol' peepers a little promise.  Within the next two weeks or so, I promise to officially accept the awards I have received from my pals and to pass them along.  Plus, I'm gonna introduce a brand spankin' new award to celebrate my reaching fifty-thousand hits on my blog.  So stay tuned 'cause there's big news on its way, for sure.

And I'm gonna ask the peep to make sure there are saucers of milk and cream for everyone.  Milk...  cream...  whichever they prefer.  Don't worry.  You won't have to milk the cow, yourselves.  I promise you that.

she promised me

Well, I had my last check-up for my knee, yesterday.  My doctor was super pleased with my progress and I was super-duper pleased to hear that.  She said my knee was looking good and healin' nicely.  Yay!

Let me tell you, I'm really happy 'bout my knee getting better 'cause it means I'll have a little more freedom around here.  I'm thinkin' I'll be able to get rid of that moused-up harness of mine.  It never was a good idea, you know.  It's not like I'll walk with it on.  I either just sit there with the peep standin' next to me or I let the peep carry me around the garden.  Hard to nibble on grass while you're being carried.  Believe me, I've tried.

And then there was the incident.  Remember the big scary yellow beast?  That was bad and, of course, would never have happened had it not been for my wearin' of the harness.  But I did get myself a pretty neat nickname out of the deal...  Houdini.  That's right...  you can just call me Houdini.  Hehehe...

Anywho...  to celebrate my sort of new-found freedom, Ol' Peepers let me me walk about the garden yesterday evening, harnessless.  She was still there with me.  Walked right along beside me, keepin' an eye on me and everything, but there was no harness attaching the two of us together.  No harness holdin' me back from wherever I wanted to go.  It was wonderful.

First thing I did was head on over to the nip garden. 

Remember?  Ages and ages ago, Ol' Peepers promised me a nip garden which is, of course, my favourite kind of garden.  Nip gardens are the best.  They're better than any other kind of garden out there.  They're amazing.

I was so excited 'cause I hadn't been over to the part of the garden where the nip was to be grown since all this business with my knee began.  I walked right over to the cage which was erected to enclose the beautiful plants that are the nip, closed my eyes and breathed in deeply.  Mmmm...  Hmmm?  I breathed in deeply again and...  and...  and nothing!  Wha???

I opened my eyes and what did my eyes behold?  My eyes beheld nothing!  Not a nip plant in sight.  I said to myself, "This can't be right."

I looked up at the peep in absolute disbelief.  She was lookin' pretty sheepish, for sure.  She opened her mouth to explain but all I heard was "baahhh...   baahhh...  baahhh."  Once again, Ol' Peepers had moused-up the growin' of the nip.  MOUSES!

"Nissy, I've started some more seedlings.  I promise," I heard between the baahhhs.  "But let me show you what I got for you today," she begged.

Ol' Peepers then picked me up and carried me over to where there were some pots sittin' by the driveway.  She set me down next to two of them with some funny looking leaves and flowers.  I sniffed them a couple of times.  Nope.  Not nip.  "Excuse me, Peepers, but these are not nip," I said.

"I got you Valerian!" the peep exclaimed with some sort of weird and unexplainable excitement.

You know, sometimes the best thing you can do with a peep is just give them 'the look' so that's just what I did.  I mean...  what am I gonna do with Valerian?  I don't even know what Valerian is.  I do know one thing about it though.  I know that it's not nip.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the most wonderful thing.  The peep must have been foolin' with me 'cause I saw the most beautiful thing in the whole wide world.  I saw the most beautiful patch of nip that I had ever seen in my life.  It was so green and lush and healthy.  It was amazing!  Even though I wasn't supposed to be runnin' around yet, I just couldn't help myself.  I dove into that patch of nip.  I had to.  It was calling me.

I landed right in the middle of the patch, opened my mouth and chomped down on the nip leaves growin' before me.  Mmmm...  Mmmm?  Ewww...  Yuk!  Friggity-frack der quack-der-knack!!! LEMON!  It was a patch of lemon balm!  MOUSES!

Of all the rotten things to do to a sweet little kitty like me.  Of all the most rotten ways to trick me.  Of all the...  of all the...  of all the...  MOUSES!!!

So I picked myself up out of the patch of lemon balm and walked over to where I saw some grass.  It wasn't the nice, premium tender grass I know and love so well.  It was just a clump of tough old stuff the peep hadn't yet gotten around to digging up.  Good for hacking up a hairball or two though.  So I munched on that a little and thought 'bout just where those hairballs might land.  Still thinking about that.  Gotta make it a good spot.  I'm pretty sure Ol' Peepers deserves it.  MOUSES!

the good, the bad and the odd

News...  I've got good news, I've got bad news and I've got some odd news, as well.  Where shall I begin?  Hmmm...  let's see...

The other night, I was watchin' a movie with the peeps.  It took place in Tasmania which, if you didn't already know, is an island off the coast of Australia.  The movie was kind of scary but I was gettin' chin tickles and behind-the-ear scritches so I didn't particularly care.  Eventually, I fell asleep so I'm not really sure what happened.  Probably though, some peeps got eaten by the monsters before and after some other peeps fell in love and then the few who survived were likely rescued at the last, possible moment savin' them from gettin' eaten, themselves.  That's usually how those things go.  As I said, I fell asleep so I really don't know.

Anywho...  as I was bein' lulled to sleep by the tickles and the scritches, I overheard a conversation between the two peeps.  They were discussing this place called Tasmania.  Peep #1 was pretty sure it was a state or province in Australia.  Peep #2 was positive it was near Australia but a country in its own right.  Then they started talking 'bout New Zealand.  I have no idea where New Zealand fit in, to the conversation, 'cause it certainly wasn't part of the movie.  But as you know, peeps get so easily distracted so, I suppose, it was only a matter of time before they talked 'bout something else.  Had I stayed awake any longer, their minds would probably have wandered over to Santa Clause or something like that.  One never really knows how a peep's mind works.

Oddly enough, when I woke up the next morning, I had Tasmania and New Zealand on my mind.  Those peeps must have washed my brain in my sleep or something.  Given me subliminal suggestions of some sort.  I just had to know more 'bout these two places.  So I headed on into my office and turned on my computer.  A few clicks later, I had my answers.

Turns out Peep #1 was right 'bout the whole Tasmania thing.  It's an island state that is part of the Commonwealth of Australia.  I must admit, it was a little confusing and if I was confused it's no wonder the peeps were.  The site talked about states and territories and other islands and all sorts of stuff.  I typed in, Tasmania-Australia relationship, thinkin' that would tell me the whole truth and nothin' but it.  No such luck.  Google sent me to a dating site.  So not the information for which I was looking.

That's when my my mind turned to the business 'bout New Zealand.  "Now, what were those peeps of mine wondering about?" I asked.  Oh yeah... they were wonderin' to which continent New Zealand belonged.

Now, as we all know, the business of continents has drifted into my mind on more than one occasion.  I have peeps and cats - not to mention dogs, bunnies and turtles - reading my blog from six of the seven continents.  That's right...  I have fans in North America, South America, Europe, Asia, Australia and Africa.  I've kind of given up on gettin' any penguins to read my blog in Antarctica.  As I understand it, most penguins don't have Internet access.  Unfortunately, I have come to the realization that Antarctica will be a no-show, blog wise.  Such a pity.

Anywho...  I had to find out about this New Zealand.  A few more clicks on the computer and I had my answers.

Well...  I sort of had my answers and that, my friends, is part of the bad news.  Talk about confusion!  For every source I found, I found a different answer or at least a variation of some sort.

Turns out that New Zealand is not part of the continent of Australia.  Well, the peeps and I knew that anyway.  No news there.  Some peeps said it wasn't part of any continent at all but I found some other peeps who said that no, it is part of the submerged continent of Zealandia.  Zealandia?  That's right...  Zealandia.  I asked myself, "Is this an eighth continent and if so, why have I never heard of it before?  And is it anywhere near Atlantis?" 

And that, my friends, is the bad news.  This whole Zealandia business opens up the realm possibilities of submerged continents.  You all know how I wanted to have fans on all of the continents.  If I can't get a penguin in Antarctica to read my blog, how on earth am I gonna get anyone to read it from some continent under the ocean?  I mean...  who lives on a submerged continent?  Fish, that's who.  And fish don't have computers.  I know that for a fact.  At least that's what I heard...  Gosh, I'm never get readers on all the continents now.  Talk about bad news.  That's news of the worst possible kind, I think.

But I do have some good news.  Zealandia is only partially submerged.  New Zealand is above the ol' sea level and New Zealand has cats and peeps and...  and...  and INTERNET ACCESS!  What's more, I have friends in New Zealand.  I have good friends in New Zealand.  Friends who read my blog.  So, Zealandia might be mostly submerged but I have readers from the dry parts and am I ever so pleased about that.  That's good news for sure!

Okay...  now here comes the odd 'cause I just know you were wantin' to hear about that.

They say that this thing called Zealandia is a continental fragment that broke off Australia and then sank.  This all happened sometime between sixty and eighty-five million years ago.  Well, sixty million years ago is pretty ancient history, right?  And Peep #1 is pretty ancient.  I call her ancient all the time so it must be true.  So I find it extremely odd that she didn't know about all this breaking up and drifting and sinking and stuff.  I mean...  wasn't she there to witness it all happening?  Very, very odd.  Don't you agree?

e is for ekiscatics

E is for ekiscatics.  Did you know that?  Well, you do now 'cause I just told you.

There once was a word...  a word called ekistics.  It meant - accordin' to the good folks at Oxford - "the study of human settlements and their development," or somethin' like that.  I suppose humans would want to study their own developmental settlements.  That's fair.  We cats, on their other paw, want to study the development of cat settlements and now, thanks to me, we even have a word for it. 

That's right...  I'm back to the inventin' of the words.  Did you miss me?  'Cause I kind of missed the month of May.  No new words last month.  What a shame.  MOUSES!

Ekiscatics is a very in-depth study.  There must be at least one university out there wantin' to add it to their curriculum.  Now that there's an official word to describe the science, I would expect many universities to hop right on the ol' bandwagon and start offering undergraduate degrees in the subject.  It's only logical.

And speakin' of bandwagons...   they are NOT used in the development of cat settlements.  Cats don't hop on bandwagons.  Bandwagons are strictly for peeps.

So just how do cat settlements, develop?  It turns out, there are many ways.  Some good and some bad.  The bad ones almost always involve the nasty side of the species that is peep.

I, myself, belong to a good cat settlement, also referred to as family.  The twelve of us cats settled in quite nicely to this house.  The peeps think they invited us in but the truth is, we all staked a claim on this here property and made it our own.  As luck would have it, the house came with two full-time servants.  Bonus!

There are many cat settlements similar to mine but on a smaller scale.  There are also some that are larger.  Basically, however, this type of cat settlement is quite standard.  It involves a structure in which cats live in association with peeps.  The laws of the land are dictated by the peeps once we cats tell 'em what to dictate.  The peeps are allowed to believe they are in control of the settlement.  They're not, of course, but it's always easier to let them think they are.  Peeps, by nature, are quite gullible so this is an easy task.

Population of the settlement is strictly controlled.  This is done by the neutering and spaying of the populace.  Population expansion is allowed, on occasion, but only through immigration, otherwise known as adoption.  The system works.  It has been a number of years since my settlement has undergone an expansion and that would have been with the adoption of my brother Rushton.  There are no further expansions in the foreseeable future as the size of our settlement is currently at a comfortable level.

Some cat settlements, however, develop quite differently. 

Let me tell you the story of a cat named Catrina.  Catrina is not an actual cat but the story that I will tell you has been played out, over time, more times than I care to admit.  It's a sad story but one which must be told.  It should be told to peeps over and over and over again until they learn.

Catrina was a cute little kitten.  Of course, kittens are always cute.  Catrina, however, was particularly so.  Calico colouring with silky long fur and a purr that could be heard miles away.  When Tommy scooped her up and out of the box at the yard sale he held her tightly to his chest and looked up at his mom.  "Please?  Oh, please mom?  I'll take care of her.  I promise.  Cross my heart and everything."

The mother hesitated but looking into her little boy's pleading eyes, she finally acquiesced and the two headed home with the new member of their family.

Tommy's dad wasn't all that happy with the arrival of Catrina but he huffed and he puffed and grumbled an agreement that his son could keep the cat.

About six months later, Catrina started to make loud noises.  Noises she had never made before.  Tommy was worried that his little baby was sick and pleaded to his father to take her to the doctor.  "Damn cat's in heat, that's all!" was the father's reply.

One day, a few weeks later, Tommy hopped off the school bus and ran down the driveway.  He called and called for Catrina.  Where was she?  She always met him at the door when he came home from school.  Where could she be?  "Damn cat's gone," his father told him.  "She went and got herself pregnant."

Tommy was beside himself but that was nothing compared to poor little Catrina.  Left alone by the side of a country road, Catrina looked around.  Still a kitten herself, she had kittens on the way and no home.  No place for her and no place for her babies.  What would she do?

Eventually, Catrina found an old, abandoned farmhouse.  It was shelter from the elements, if nothing else.  There was no food and no water but she had a roof over her head.  A dirty old blanket, too tattered to have been taken by the house's previous owners would provide a bed.  It wasn't much but it was something.

In the following months, Catrina made the most of her new home.  She now had five precious babies in her care.  They were beautiful.  She taught them to mouse and clean themselves and most importantly, she taught them to fear humans.  Feral cats need to fear humans.  Humans can be cruel.

The years passed and Catrina had become the matriarch of the settlement.  She looked old and was frail even though she had lived through only five or six winters.  The life of an outdoor cat is a hard one and the years pass slowly and cruelly.  So much loss had Catrina suffered.  Babies lost to illness, hunger and coyotes.  She thought about all her babies now gone.  Then she thought about her children and grandchildren still with her.  What would become of them?  Would they lead a life of hardship such as hers?

That night, Catrina slept peacefully.  For the first time in a very long time, she slept straight through the night.  Her body had been so tired and so weak for so long.  She needed her sleep.

Morning came and one of Catrina's grand babies nudged at her, trying to wake her up.  Catrina didn't move.  She didn't wake up.  The kitten meowed, repeatedly, before the meows turned into cries of loss.  Catrina was gone.

If only...  if only Tommy's mom had not allowed him to take Catrina that day at the yard sale.  If only Catrina had been adopted by a responsible peep.  A peep who knew that if you love cats, you get them spayed and neutered and you never, NEVER abandon them out in the country - or anywhere else - forcing them to fend for themselves.  If only...

Every school in every land should teach peeps the science of ekiscatics.  Peeps need to be taught how cat settlements develop and the part they play in that development.  Peeps need to be taught the difference between right and wrong.  The difference between responsible and irresponsible.  The difference between good and evil.

friggity-frack der quack-der-knack!

...for when "MOUSES!" just isn't enough.

I've got problems.  Oh do I ever have problems.  I've got problems like no other cat has ever had problems.  Yes, yes...  I know...  two of those problems are my peeps but, believe it or not, I've got even bigger problems than that!  Them...  Whatever...  Yes, I have e-mail problems.

It all started just over a month ago.  Well...  it started long before that but it was just over a month ago that I realized just how serious my problems were.  It was just over a month ago that I was forced to invent my new saying, "friggity-frack der quack-der-knack!"  It takes some pretty serious problems to have to invent a sayin' like that, I can assure you.

One day, all my e-mails stopped.  Stopped!  Not a single e-mail was coming through.  Now, some might suggest that I just wasn't gettin' any mail...  that no one liked me anymore...  but I knew that that was not true.  You see, I have comment moderation on this here blog of mine so every time a friend leaves a comment on my blog, I get an e-mail.  Pals were leavin' comments all over the place but I wasn't getting any e-mails.  So you see, I knew for a fact that something was apaw.  Duh duh duh duhhhhh.....

I called out, "Peepers!  Prepare my teleportation device!" 

Ol' peepers replied, "Nissy, you don't need your teleportation device for this.  We'll just call the phone company."

"Fine but you do it.  I've got stuff to work on," I mumbled as I went back to pouring over my blueprints for the time machine I'm building.  Don't tell anyone 'bout that last part, okay?  It's top secret.

So the peep got on the phone.  A very nice lady from the phone company tried to help ol' peepers with my e-mail prob.  Three hours later, the problem had been solved. 

It turned out, there was a back load of e-mails on my server.  You see, I had been deleting e-mails after reading them but apparently, when I was deleting them, I wasn't really deleting them at all.  And all those e-mails were causing a big ol' traffic jam.  All forty-four thousand of them!  That's a lot of e-mails. 

Apparently, there was some stupid little check-mark in some stupid little box that told the server to save all the e-mails even after they had been deleted.  The peep swears up and down that she did not check that box and to be honest, I kind of have to believe her.  As we all know, my peep #1 is a technologically impaired duffer.  She wouldn't know where to find that box to check if her life depended upon it.  I'm thinking the box was checked by gremlins.  Either that or leprechauns.  Neither one is a trustworthy species.

So, after the three hour phone call, all those messages still had to be erased.  The peep did that part on her own.  Two hundred at a time, she deleted all forty-four thousand.  What a job that was.  It took her another an hour.

After all that work, the peep thought she'd check my e-mail for me.  The little box appeared tellin' the peep we were receiving mail.  E-mails started pouring in.  One...  two...  three...  four...  FIVE THOUSAND E-MAILS!  Yes, you read that correctly...  FIVE THOUSAND OF THEM!

Some of them were a month old.  They must have been stuck in the server traffic jam.  A whole whack of them were duplicates.  Three, four and five identical e-mails.  The peep thought maybe that had something to do with all the times our password had been changed during the three hour phone call but really, she was just guessing.  All we knew for a fact was that the flood wouldn't stop.  My peep was drowning in e-mails.  MOUSES!

Once they finally stopped, she cleared out the second lot and sat back to admire her handiwork.  My e-mail was workin' like a charm.  All was right with the world.

The following week proved quite eventful.  I had my knee surgery, spendin' two nights and three days in hospital.  I masterminded "the great fancy feast grilled chicken pizza caper" and broke out of "the cone of shame" not once, not twice but three times.  Yes, it was quite a week but my e-mail was running smoothly.  Then, out of nowhere, everything came to a screeching halt!

One day, I went to check on my mail.  The little box popped up saying that I was receiving some and boy was I receiving mail.  It started pouring in.  It was another flood!  Seven hundred e-mails.  Every message from the past week had been duplicated several times but they all had to deleted, one by one.  During the process of deleting them, I made the mistake of readin' a couple.  I took too long...  the box reappeared...  the box tellin' me I was gettin' mail.  Another seven hundred e-mails!  MOUSES!

This has been going on for a month.  I keep tellin' the peep I need my teleportation device to head on over to the phone company.  She keeps assuring me that she'll call them.  She hasn't yet made the call. 

Ol' peepers says she simply doesn't have time for another three hour phone call but will, soon.  Perhaps after my period of recuperation is over.  I don't know how much longer I can take this.  If she doesn't soon fix it, I'm gonna have to take matters into my own paws and make that call myself.

These e-mail issues are ruining my life.  I can hardly face the seven hundred plus messages I know I will have to delete if I go to check my mail.  Messages I've already read.  Messages I've already deleted.  Messages that simply refuse to go away!

And it's having disastrous consequences upon my social life.  I'm missin' some of my favourite blogs.  Blogs I normally follow by e-mail instead of on my Blogger reading list.  I can't take the time to access them from my e-mail because I know that if I do, I might return to my e-mail to find thousands upon thousands upon thousands of messages.  It's a nightmare, I tell you.  A bloody nightmare.  Stephen King should write about this.  On second thought, this would be too frightening for even him.  This is a problem no man or cat should ever have to face.

I've said it before and I'll say it again.  FRIGGITY-FRACK DER QUACK-DER-KNACK!   ...'cause MOUSES! just isn't enough.

just call me Houdini

There was an incident, last week.  A bad one.  I wasn't bad.  It was the incident that was bad.  Just gettin' that straight, up front.

Anywho...  ol' Peep #1 thought she'd pot up her tomatoes.  I know...  you're probably wondering why they're her tomatoes and not mine.  Most of the things in the garden are mine but I leave the tomatoes to the peep 'cause, quite frankly, I don't like 'em.  The leaves smell funny and aren't much good for munching.  In fact, if you try to munch 'em, you get even more of that funny smell.  Gosh...  you get the smell just by brushing up against them.  My dad, on the other paw, kind of likes tomato sauce but I've come to the conclusion that that's weird.  Tomato sauce is not for cats.  Neither are tomatoes.  Icky.

I told the peep that if she was going to be outside in the sun for a whole afternoon, so was I.  I was sick and tired of bein' cooped up in the livin' room and I wanted a little fresh air.  This house arrest business sucks, I tell you.  It simply sucks.

So the peep got out my harness and put it on me.  I'm getting used to the harness, now.  I still won't walk around the garden with it.  The peep has to carry me for garden inspections but I'll now wear it without a whole lot of complaints.  I don't like it but I'll wear it.  I'm not happy about wearin' it but I'm getting used to it.  Also, you can play with the leash end.  That part is kind of fun.

Ol' peepers figured she could secure the leash to a fence post by my primrose garden.  There, I would be in dappled sun so I wouldn't get too hot.  I could sprawl out on the driveway if I wanted or snuggle in among the primroses.  Whatever tickled my fancy at the moment.  We were at the bottom end of the driveway, near the road, but I wasn't on the road or anything.  No, the road was on the other side of the primroses and some trees.  We were pretty safe.  Or so I thought...

Peep #1 hauled over the recycling bin to use as a make-shift potting table and gathered all the other stuff necessary to pot up those tomatoes.  She had a whole whack of stuff there.  Of course there were tomato plants but I also saw potting mix, manure, a watering can and some organic fertilisers.  I must admit, she was pretty prepared for her afternoon of playing in the dirt. 

Everything went smoothly for a while.  The peep was on her third or fourth tomato plant and things were lookin' good.  I watched the peep walk over to the house to fill the watering can with some water and, from what I could see, she was doing it correctly.  The tomato plants may be hers but she still requires guidance, you know.

Peepers was still filling up the watering can when I heard the noise.  It was a horrible noise.  I heard the rumbling of an engine coming close and closer and closer to where I sat.  The noise got louder and louder and I just knew it was approaching.  The peep called out to me, saying it was okay and that I was safe but I didn't believe her.  She came over to me, still saying everything was fine and that I needn't be scared.  I looked at her in disbelief.  Did she not hear what I was hearing?  Was she nuts?  A monster was approaching.  A monster of all monsters.  Of course I should be afraid.

Through the trees, I could see the movement of the humongous yellow beast.  It roared with life and I just knew it was coming to get me.  I had the terrifying beast on my left, my crazy peep on my right and there I was...  stuck in the middle of the two.  What to do...  what to do...

I decided to make a run for it.  I bolted for the house.  WHAM!  That darned harness had me in its grip.  It stopped me dead in my tracks.  I leaped into the air, doin' a mid-air ninety-degree spin, landed on all four paws and made a run for other other side of house.  WHAM!  BAM!  That darned harness again.  The peep was frantic, tryin' to catch me.  I was even more frantic, trying to escape.

I squirmed and I wormed.  I rolled this way and that and...  and...  and miracle of all miracles...   I WAS FREE!

I was out of that harness and runnin' for the backyard as fast as my little paws would take me.  The peep was left behind, amidst a cloud of dust.

Then I saw some grass.  Grass...  Fresh, tender, green grass.  I love grass and as I hadn't munched on any since the start of my involuntary confinement, I had to stop and have a little nibble.  The big yellow monster had left.  Turned out it was just the school bus droppin' off nosey neighbour cat's brother.  Who knew?

I was chowing down on my greens when the peep arrived out of nowhere and scooped me up into her arms.  In between the cuddling and kissing and chin tickles, she comforted me, sayin' I was safe and that the big noisy monster was gone.  "Yeah, I saw it leave, peepers.  I'm over it," I told her.

Once I began to purr, the peep had the nerve to scold me.  She said I could have hurt my knee again, or something like that.  Blah, blah, blah...  Heard it all before, I tell you.

Then she looked at me, quizzically, and asked, "How did you get out of your harness?"

Sure enough, I had managed to do that.  The harness was left behind, still over by the fence post and still fastened together.  Yup, both parts were still securely fastened. That's right...  I had squirmed and wormed and wriggled my way out of that harness like no other cat has ever done before.  I looked at the peep and narrowed my eyes before tellin' her, "Just call me Houdini," and I left it at that.

I won? I won! I WON!!!

I can hardly believe it but...  I WON! 

...and it's all official now and everything.

That's right...  I won the 2013 Nose-to-Nose Best Blog Writing Award. 

It was two weeks ago, yesterday, when the winners were announced.  I wasn't there, of course.  I was still bein' held hostage in the livin' room because of recent knee surgery.  I was recuperating.  I was bein' held against my will!  MOUSES!

Peep #1 said I could watch the awards ceremony on the computer 'cause BlogPaws was live-streaming it.  I'm not quite sure what live-streaming means but I'm thinkin' it has something to do with salmon or something, swimmin' upstream.  So, due to the upcoming salmon convention, I made sure ol' peepers had plenty of salmon treats on paw.  They were delicious.

About fifteen minutes before the ceremonies were due to start, the peep turned on the computer.  Just as she was headin' over to the salmon stream from facebook, I heard the news.  All over the place, cats were saying, "Nerissa's Life won!"

I was a little confused 'cause according to ol' peeper's time calculations, the ceremony had not yet begun.  I quickly did my own time travelling mathematical calculations and realized that, of course, the peep had screwed it all up.  I gave her a good ol' stink-eye before reminding her that, "time travellin' is for cats, not peeps."  You see, time travellin' is complicated enough, as it is.  Throw in a couple of time zone differentials tossed about with a daylight savings versus standarized time equation and you've got some pretty complex mathematical calculations.  Generally speaking, peeps can't handle the math.  So, as I said...  time travellin' is for cats, not peeps.  Never have any truer words been said.

I immediately went into a state of shock.  Not 'cause ol' peepers had screwed up the math.  No, I'm used to the peep screwing stuff like that up.  That doesn't shock me in the least.  Not anymore, anyway.  No, I was shocked 'bout the possibility that I had won the award...  the award I had wanted to win so much...  the 2013 Nose-to-Nose Best Blog Writing Award.  Even though twitter and facebook were all abuzz 'bout my having won, I could hardly believe it.  It just seemed so...  so...  so unbelievable.

But it was true!  It was absolutely true.  WOW.

As I mentioned before, I wasn't at the big BlogPaws conference.  Earlier in the week, I had asked my dear and wonderful friend, Savannah, if her mom would consider representin' me if I should happen to win.  Savannah is the author of the world-famous blog, Savannah's Paw Tracks.  You have heard of it, I am sure.  If - by some remote chance - you have not, you need to head on over right away.  It's a great blog and Savvy is an amazing author. 

Anywho...  I knew that Savvy's mom was goin' to the conference and hoped she wouldn't mind helpin' me out.  I also hoped that Savvy wouldn't mind my borrowing her mom for the occasion.  I was so very pleased and honoured when Savvy's mom agreed to represent me and Savvy signed off on the deal.

Savvy's mom immediately went on a search for Plush Nissy.  Every cat has a plush version of themselves, you know.  These plush kitties are like our twins, or something.  Savvy's mom had already discovered Savvy's twin so, obviously, she has a knack for such things.  She went on a world-wide search and before anyone knew it, Plush Nissy had been found!  I must say, the resemblance is amazing.  Remarkable, in fact.  Peeps can hardly tell us apart.  Is it Nissy?  Is it Plush Nissy?  Is it Plush Nissy?  No, I think it's Nissy.  Yup, that's what they're saying.  Peeps, that is.  We cats can usually tell the difference.  We're kind of smart that way.

Luckily for me, the peeps running the BlogPaws conference had anticipated the time travellin' calculation screw-up of Peep #1.  They got the whole awards ceremony on tape.  Thank goodness someone was thinkin' ahead.  I got to watch the whole thing.  It was fantastic.  I actually watched it more than once.  Yes sirree...  it was that good.

Savvy's mom did the most amazing job.  She accepted my award like a real pro.  For a moment there, I thought I was watchin' a movie star acceptin' an Oscar or something.  Then I realized that winnin' the 2013 Nose-to-Nose BlogPaws Best Blog Writing award was better than winning an Oscar and that Savvy's mom was way better than any ol' movie star.  She was a star of stars!  Yup, she really was.  Still is, in fact.  Still is...

And did you know that I got a trophy?  It's true.  Savvy's mom packed it up and sent it to me.  The UPS man arrived a few days later with a parcel that had MY name on it.  That's right...  it was addressed to Nerissa the Cat.  How proud I was to open that box and find my new gorgeous trophy.  I've never had a trophy before, you know.  I got Peep #1 to display it next to the teeny-tiny little trophy she once won for growin' some flowers or something silly like that.  Mine is four or five times the size of hers.  Prettier, too.  Way prettier.  It's a way better trophy, for sure.

And did you know that I got a box?  It's true!  The trophy came in a box.  I've been in it numerous times, now.  It's an excellent box.

And I mustn't forget to mention the cat and dog food.  Two of the BlogPaws sponsors donated two hundred pounds each of cat and dog food to the winners' choice of charities.  That's right, Natural Balance Pet Foods and Petcurean both donated all that needed food.  I chose the Homeless Animal Lifeline, as the recipient for my award.  HAL is based in New Jersey but rescues animals from many other states, as well.  I know that the good peeps at HAL will put all that food to excellent use.  Those peeps work so hard at rescuing animals and do it so incredibly well.  If you've never heard of 'em before, please check out their website where you can read all about 'em some more.  And even if you have heard about HAL, you can still visit their website.  I'm pretty sure they love havin' visitors over at HAL.  Just love 'em, for sure.

So that's my big news.  My big new about BlogPaws and my award and HAL and how Savvy's mom helped me out in such a wonderful way.  Life is good, you know.  It's really, really good.  I'm a blessed kitty cat, for sure.