skunked!

'Twas the night before the peep's birthday and all through the house, not a creature was stirring.  Not even a mouse.  Of course, we don't have any mice 'cause there are eleven of us cats livin' here but anywho...


The kitties were nestled all snug in their beds while visions of nip mice - different kind of mouse - danced in their heads.  When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my cushion to see what was the matter.  Away to the window I flew like a flash.  I tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.  No, no, no...  I threw up the sash.
                                                                                             
Not a hair ball, or anything like that.
    
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear?  Why, nothing.  Nothing at all.  There was nothin' to see.  It was a dark, starless and moonless night and I couldn't see a thing out there.  MOUSES!

But smell!  Oohhh...  I smelled somethin' all right.  In fact, I think that's what really work me up.  Woke up a peep or two, too.  Someone had been skunked.

I did a quick head count.  One, two...  two peeps were in the house.  All eleven of us cats were accounted for, too.  That meant that no one livin' in my house had annoyed the skunk.  Thank goodness for that.

I thought about it for a bit.  That left four options.  Four possible victims to the skunkification.  Option number one was nosey neighbour cat.  Option was number two was a rocky raccoon.  Option number three was some other cat's peep.  Finally, option number four was...  well...  I'll get to that in a minute.

I figured it probably wasn't nosey neighbour cat.  Cats are not likely to get skunked.  We're too smart, you see.  We cats know and understand the secret super power of the skunk and know better than to mess with it.  And in general, cats and skunks get along.  I don't know any skunks personally but I've heard that long, long ago before I was born, my Auntie Primrose had a best friend who was a skunk.  Yup, it's true.  They used to hang out together outside and everything.  And even though my Auntie Primrose and Skunky used to play together all the time, she never once got skunked by the skunk.  Cats and skunks respect one another and their super powers.

So what about a rocky?  Could a rocky raccoon have been skunked?  Not likely, I thought.  Rockies are pretty smart, too.  Smart like cats.  There is a gang of marauding raccoons in our subdivision but never once have I heard of any of them bein' skunked.  The rockies and the skunks seem to manage to cohabit in the great outdoors, together, just find and dandy.  So I eliminated the rockies from being victims of the skunkification.

Option number three...  a peep.  Not one of my peeps, of course.  My peeps are too smart to get themselves skunked.  You've gotta be a pretty silly peep to get yourself skunked, I should think.  You see a skunk?  You back away.  You see a skunk raise his tail?  You RUN!  I'm pretty sure that's what either of my peeps would do if they saw a skunky tail bein' lifted.  Also, I happened to know for a fact that both my peeps were inside at the time.

What about some other cat's peep?  Could some stranger peep have been skunkified?  Not likely, I thought.  The smell was comin' through a window at the back of the house.  Therefore, the skunkification must have occurred in my backyard.  No other cats' peeps should be in my backyard at night.  If they were, they were up to no good and in that case, quite frankly, they deserved to be skunked.  But to be honest, intruder peeps have never been spotted back there before so I figured that it wasn't likely to have happened then.  No, it was probably safe to eliminate the possibility of a peep skunkification.

That left option number four and option number four would be a dog.  Of course, intruder dogs are not allowed in my backyard either however sightings have been known to happen.  Our subdivision is filled with dogs.  So which dog could it have been?

Nosey neighbour cat shares his house with a dog but his peeps are way too smart to let that dog roam.  She's never allowed to roam about on her own.  Not ever.  Certainly not at night.  No, nosey neighbour cat's sister could be excluded from my list.

What about the yapper next door?  Nah, I didn't think that was likely.  That one is always on a lead when outdoors and almost never out at night.  Also, he's a real yappity-dappity-doo.  He would have yapped at a skunk, for sure, and I would have heard and recognised the yappin'.  Another suspect eliminated from my list.

That left those two yappers livin' with the new neighbours.  Now that was a real possibility.  I know for a fact that they've been in my yard before.  The peep and I have both seen them there.  I have also seen them runnin' as fast as their little paws would take 'em with my brother Seville hot on their heels.  My brother takes no guff from dogs, you see.  Plus, he's bigger than either one of them.  Not to mention the fact that he has claws and he sure as mouses knows how to use 'em.  And judgin' by the speed at which those doggies were running, I think Seville might have at some point given them a close-up inspection of his claws, if you know what I mean.

I also know for a fact that those new neighbours have a habit of just openin' the back door and lettin' those dogs out when they wanna go out.  There are no leashes or fences or anything like that involved.  They just assume the dogs will stay in their yard.  Yeah, like that's gonna happen.  Ol' Peepers once almost ran over one of them on the road because he or she came running out toward the car.  The peep had to slam on the brakes and then pound on the horn until someone from the house emerged to call the dog.  MOUSES!

It would make perfect sense if, in the middle of the night, one of those dogs wanted out to do his or her business and the people livin' in that house just opened the door to let that business be done.  That would make perfect sense, for sure.  I mean, if they don't go out with the dogs in the daytime, why would they want to go out with them at night?  Am I right or am I right?

What's more, dogs are notorious for gettin' into altercations with skunks.  Many a dog has been skunkified, for sure.  I've even heard of some dogs bein' skunkified more than once.

Now, don't get me wrong...  I don't blame the dogs for undergoing repeat skunkifications.  I blame their peeps.  You'd think that a peep would learn after the first skunking.  Your dog gets skunked once, you don't let your dog out alone at night to get skunked twice.  It only makes sense.

But now that I think about it...  perhaps I should not have been so quick to eliminate the possibility of a peep skunkification.  I was assuming that a peep would be too smart to get themselves skunked.  But if there are peeps out there who can't figure out how to not let their dogs get skunked, repeatedly, then perhaps there are peeps out there not capable of figuring out how to not get themselves skunked, either.  Hmmm... 

To be honest, this is all supposition on my part.  I don't know if it was a dog or a peep who got skunked.  I certainly don't know which dog or peep is wearin' a new perfume of sorts.  All I know for sure is that someone out there got skunked the other night 'cause skunks don't just raise their tails and let loose for fun.  Never heard of a skunk doin' that, ever.  Nope, somebody out there got skunkified and if that somebody was up to no good in my backyard...  well then...  YAY for Mr. Skunk, for sure.

as old as the hills

We've got a birthday comin' up at my house this week.  Day after tomorrow, Ol' Peepers turns...  She turns...  Hmmm...  just how old does she turn?  You know, I don't know.

Bein' an investigative reporter and a member of the Feline Bureau of Investigation, I set out to determine just how old the peep would be turning.  It wasn't easy.

Apparently, her age is top secret, known only to a select few on the planet.  Birth certificates have been tucked away in locked drawers to which there are no keys and witnesses to the event have been silenced.  I knew the truth was out there, somewhere, but where?  WHERE?

Then I realised that I already knew...  kind of.  I've always known that my peep #1 was as old as the hills.  I've said it more times than I remember.  I've said it more times than the peep cares to remember.  I concluded that all I needed to determine was the age of the hills.  Then I would know the age of the peep, as well.  So I cried aloud, "Internet, don't fail me now!"

Firstly, I needed to identify the hills.  We live in a valley so there are hills to the north of us as well as to the south.  I discovered that the North Mountain was formed in the Triassic Period and could be anywhere between 200 and 250 million years old.  Hmmm...  could my peep be that old?  What about the South Mountain?  Turns out that that one is even older.  It was formed during the Devonian Age and is between 360 and 420 million years old.  Could my peep be that old?

Are there any younger hills here in Nova Scotia?  Younger hills to which my peep's age could be compared?  How 'bout those mountains in Cape Breton about which I've heard.

An investigator's work is never done and I immediately set out to find the age of the Cape Breton Highlands.  Ol' Peepers was gettin' older by the minute.  I found references to those mountains bein' as young as 750 million years old.  The word billion was mentioned, too.  MOUSES!

To be honest, I'm not quite sure how accurate my sources are.  Peep #1 doesn't look a day over 500 million.

I was back to square one.  She's as old as the hills and the hills are pretty old.  That's all I know.  Again I say, MOUSES!

Anywho...  I figured that if Ol' Peepers was THAT old I had better get her a prezzie or two.

As luck would have it, I already had one on paw.  Not that long ago, I was the lucky winner of a t-shirt from RC Tees.  I won it in a giveaway over on my pal Layla's blog, Cat Wisdom 101.  Since I myself don't wear clothes - 'cause I'm a cat - I figured I could give the peep the shirt.  What a plan!  WHAT A PLAN!

All I needed to do was wrap it.  So I snuck into the little craft / sewing room that's not much bigger than a closet and dug out a gift box, tissue paper and some ribbon.  This was a mistake on my part.

Let's just say that the spool of ribbon was confiscated by the peep before I could use it, the tissue paper has been shredded and the box has seen better days.  I had the best of intentions but...  but...  BUT I JUST COULDN'T HELP MYSELF!  I mean...  there was tissue paper and ribbon and a box...  What do you expect from a cat?

I did however, manage to keep the peep from seein' the t-shirt.  Thank goodness for that.  She will get her prezzie and it will be a surprise even if it isn't wrapped. 

And as a bonus prezzie, I'm gonna toss in some seeds, as well.  I sent my brother Rushton out to gather them.  Those weeds the peep was tryin' to grow in the ditch are settin' seed and my brother was able to brush his big floof of a tail all over the seedy weeds and collect 'em .  We gathered the goldenrod seed, brought them into the house and smooshed them together into a little pile which we then pushed under some stuff where the peep will never look. 

Of course, I did consider putting 'em in a gift bag but Rushton was quick to point out that a bag wasn't gonna fair much better than boxes and tissue paper so, in the end, we decided to settle on just putting 'em in a pile.  Sure do hope Ol' Peepers doesn't decide to do somethin' stupid like vacuum or dust or whatever. 

And there might be another prezzie or two comin' her way.  We still have two days.  A lot can happen in two days, you know.  One never knows what eleven cats might come up with in two days. 

We've also all decided to take a pledge to try really, really hard on the peep's birthday to be nice to her and well-behaved.  We're not makin' any promises.  There are no guarantees.  The pledge is to try and that's about as good as it gets. 

But it won't be as difficult as it sounds.  There are only twenty-four hours in a day and we'll probably spend at least eighteen of them napping.  It's pretty easy to be good while you're napping.  And since the peep is quite possibly 500 million years old, she'll probably be in need of a nap or two, too.  And when the peep's asleep...  Well, never you mind.  That's for cats to know and peeps to only possibly find out.

Anywho...  if you happen to talkin' to the peep the day after tomorrow, you might wanna wish her a Happy Birthday or somethin'.  But be sure to raise your voice really loudly and speak super clearly when doin' so 'cause...  well...  'CAUSE SHE'S AS OLD AS THE HILLS! 

two hundred and counting

An awful lot of sad things have been goin' on as of late but today is the day when that's all gonna change.  I'm gonna brush away the sads and bring on the glads!  Okay, sads and glads aren't really words but you get my drift, I am sure.  Plus, they rhyme.  Bonus!

Today, here on Nerissa's Life, we are celebrating.  I'll get to why, in just a moment.

First of all, I would like to extend my thanks and appreciation to a couple of great blogging pals.  In the past few weeks, I was presented with two lovely awards however, I already had them.  But I'm ever so grateful that these friends thought of me, anyway.  They were spreading the love around the blogosphere and how nice it was of them to send a little my way.

So thank you very much Rev. Sharon for the beautiful Versatile Blogger Award.  Rev. Sharon writes the lovely blog Inspiritual Reflections.  If you've never read it, please click on the blog's name and the powers of the blogosphere will whisk you off for a visit.  I may already have the award but I truly appreciate you thinkin' of me, Rev. Sharon.  Thanks ever so much.

I also want to thank Swami Zoe from the fantastic blog, Swami Zoe's Yoga and Zen.  Swami Zoe presented me with the lovely Super Sweet Blogging Award.  That, too, I already had but it was oh so nice to hear that I'm still sweet.  Like a sweetie pie, which is what my peep #1 sometimes calls me, you know.  You didn't know that?  Well, you do now.  Again, if you've never read Swami Zoe's blog, please click on her blog's name to be transported to a place of peace and tranquillity.  As Swami Zoe would say, me-ommmmm...  Did I spell that correctly?  Did I use the right number of the letter m?  Just wonderin'...


Now, for our celebrations...

The planetary forces have aligned.  The sun is where it should be and the Earth has decided to tilt just the right amount and that makes today of all days the first day of fall.  The oak tree at the end of the driveway has been celebrating all week by raining acorns and the squirrels have been doin' their happy dance.  Soon the maples will be lighting up the horizon with red and orange and even gold.  Add to that a backdrop of blue sky dotted by fluffy white clouds and you have something to celebrate, indeed.

It was very nice of the astronomical forces to kick off their celebrations today, of all days.  It's almost as if someone knew.  As if someone planned it.  As if everything was coming together in a perfectly choreographed dance of the stars to celebrate my big news.  And just what is my big news?  Why, haven't you heard? 

Today is my 200'th blog post!  Yoo-hoo!  YOO-HOO!!!  No wonder the planetary forces are celebrating. 

And to celebrate my 200'th blog post, I'm gonna introduce a new award.  I'm gonna introduce to the world, the Opposites Attract Award.  I hope the world likes it.

Now, the Opposites Attract Award is just a tad different from some other awards.  In accepting this award, you have to do only three things and it's the third thing that's a little bit different.  We'll start with the easy stuff.

Firstly, you need to thank the blogger who gave you the Opposites Attract Award and link back to their blog.  Easy peasy.

Secondly, you need to post the award on your blog.  Simple as can be.

And thirdly, you need to pass the award along to at least one other blogger.  More than one would be better but if you can only come up with one, that's okay too.  Now, here's the tricky part but really not all that difficult.  There are far more complicated things in life like...  hmmm....  well...  well like the science of egg beater-whisk time-travelling teleportion technology.  But I digress.

The Opposites Attract Award is all about opposites so boys have to give the award to girls and girls have to give it to boys and YES, I am a MANcat so I can pass it along to ladycats.  Just happen to have a girls' name, that's all.  It's all the peep's fault.  MOUSES!

Now, if you happen to be passin' the award on to multi-cat household, you've gotta say to whom you're sendin' it.  So you could say, "the girls at..." or name a specific cat, etc..  And, of course, you don't have to pass it on to just cats.  Dogs, bunnies and ferrets all qualify for the award, too.  You can even pass it on to a mouse if you happen to know a mouse who blogs.  I don't know any but you might.  Just remember, boys send to girls and girls send to boys, no matter what the species. 

So without any further ado, the first ever recipients of the Opposites Attract Award are...

- Savvy at Savannah's Paw Tracks
- Katie at Katie Isabella
- Nellie at Cat from Hell
- Molly at Molly the Wally
- Patchy Meow at The Five Cats Chronicles
- Purrla at Singapore Kitty
- Selina at One Eye on the Future
- Allie at A Tonk's Tail
- Cathy Keisha at Stunning Keisha
- Quinn at Catitude

Please remember to pass on the love that is the Opposites Attract Award.  Let's get this baby spread around the world and back.  Maybe even to the moon!

CONGRATULATIONS TO ALL AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT! 

parting is such sweet sorrow

It seems like only yesterday when I was writing about the loss of my good friend Dash and now, today, I am writing about another loss.  The loss of my Auntie Snowdrop.  My dear, sweet Auntie Snowdrop.  Taken from us at the young age of sixteen and a half.  It isn't fair.  It just isn't fair.

Snowdrop had been showing her age, I am told.  I hadn't really noticed myself but the peeps said she was.  They were worried 'bout her 'cause her appetite wasn't quite as good as usual and she didn't play as much as she had.  She didn't race around, chasing the rest of us cats anymore or climb up the back of the couch or jump up on the counters.  But at sixteen, how much playin' does a peep expect from a cat?  I mean, seriously...

Also, Auntie Snowdrop had a growth on her side.  Our doctor had seen it but didn't know for sure what the cause was.  It didn't seem to bother Snowdrop at all.  Apparently, at her last check-up, the doctor took a really good look at the growth and felt all around it.  It wasn't hurtin' her or anything.  Not even with all the pokin' and proddin' that doctors do.  My aunties' mama, Alicia, died from cancer eleven years ago this month and the peeps thought that Snowdrop might have it, too.  Together, our doctor and the peeps decided that as long as the growth didn't hurt Snowdrop, they should leave it alone.  After all, she was sixteen years old and even if it did turn out to be cancer, they weren't gonna put her through any really invasive procedures.

Then on Sunday, Snowdrop stopped eatin'.  The peeps tried to entice her with all sorts of goodies but she just wasn't interested.  Didn't even want to have anything to do with the Fancy Feast.  That was pretty unusual for my auntie.  That would have been unusual for any of us.  We all love the stuff.  But when peep #1 put down a plate with one of Snowdrop's favourites, Snowdrop got up and walked away.  My Auntie Blossom helped her out by polishing it off.

At some point on Sunday, Snow - that's what we used to call her for short - crawled under the big chair in the family room.  The peeps hoped she would sleep for a bit and then feel better afterwards.  Eventually, she came out from under the chair but she wasn't feelin' better.  She was feelin' much, much worse.  She was havin' trouble walkin' and still wouldn't eat. 

She was thirsty though so peep #1 gave her water.  Snowdrop wanted to drink out of a bowl but the peep was scared that she was holdin' her head so low in the water that she might accidentally drown.  So ol' peepers brought my auntie into the family room and gave her water with a syringe.  She lapped it right up.  The peep released the water very, very slowly and Snowdrop lapped each drop of water as it fell from the syringe.

By late evening, Snowdrop began to cry every now and then.  The only things that would comfort her were drinks of water and havin' my peep sit next to her and tickle the top of her head or massage her ears so my peep did that.  She stayed by Snowdrop and gave her a large syringe of water every hour or two.

Snowdrop's sisters, Blossom and Primrose, stayed in the family room all night.  Not cuddled up with Snowdrop like they often did but near.  They seemed to sense that something was seriously wrong. 

The peep slept on the couch in the family room, Sunday night, so as to be near Snowdrop.  She didn't get much sleep though.  Actually, I don't think she got any at all.  She kept getting up to check on Snowdrop and give her more water if she wanted it.  She spent a lot of time just sitting on the floor next to the big chair, bein' near my auntie.

My peeps knew that Snowdrop's time was near.  Peep #1 was praying that my auntie would quietly and peacefully slip away in her sleep just as Snowdrop's mama, Alicia had, eleven years before.  The peep told Snowdrop she had nothin' to fear.  That she should feel free to go to her mama up in Heaven, if she was ready.

When morning came, Snowdrop wasn't any better.  She was still cryin' every now and then and couldn't walk on her own.  The peeps made the call they didn't want to make but knew had to be made.  On the morning of Monday September 16th, my Auntie Snowdrop peacefully drifted off to sleep for the final time.

Peep #1 says that my Auntie Snowdrop is in Heaven now.  She says that Snow is with her own mama, Alicia and her aunties, Kelsey and Sadie as well as her uncles, Boswell and Sebastian.  My brothers Desdemona and Callista are there, too, along with my nephew Aristotle and my own mama, Madison.  And my younger brother and sister, whom I barely knew - Alexander and Josephine.  They're there, as well.

Peep #1 says that together they'll be chasing butterflies in sun-drenched fields of nip.  When tired out from all that butterfly chasing, they will have plenty of sun puddles from which to choose for naps.  She says that Auntie Snowdrop will never again feel pain or loss.  She will only know love and happiness.  She says that Auntie Snowdrop is now, and always will be, safe in Heaven.

Although right now I am so very sad and miss Snow so very much, the peep says that one day, I will meet up with my auntie again.  For now, we must part because it was Snowdrop's time to leave this earth but one day, in the distant future, we will reunite once more.  She says I must hold on to that thought.  That that thought is what will get me through this difficult time.  The knowledge that in the future, we will once more be together as a family again.  She says that this is why parting can be sweet sorrow.  Parting now is horribly sad but our family reunion in the future will be the sweetest of occasions, indeed.

time to get rid of the box

Or better yet, why don't you just give it to me.  You know I love a good box.  Okay, different kind of box. 

You've all heard the sayin', right?  That ol' sayin' that peeps use.  They say to "think outside of the box."  Come on...  you know you've heard it.

Well, my peep #1 absolutely hates that sayin'.  She just can't stand it.  She says that when other peeps use it, she kind of cringes and shudders, inwardly and I have to admit, I sort of agree with her.

First of all, it doesn't even make sense.  I mean...  if you've got a box, you've got a perfect nappin' spot.  And while you're drifting off to sleep for your nap, you're probably thinking.  Thinking about mice and nip and treats and all sorts of wonderful things.  You might even be thinking about numbers while you're counting sheep to lull you to sleep.  And I assure you, my friends, that all this stuff you're thinking about is being thought about while you're IN the box.  'Cause IN the box is where you're gonna be nappin'.  It would be silly to think about all this stuff outside of the box and then have to wake yourself up so that you can climb into the box for your nap.  That, my friends would be counter productive.  Not to mention, a little insane.  MOUSES!

Sometimes, while I'm drifting off to sleep, I'm thinkin' about egg beaters and whisks and time travelling and teleportation.  And if I happen to be driftin' off to sleep in a box, I'm likely thinkin' inside the box, too.  That's just how it is.

Then, of course, we have the litter box.  Some cats do their best thinkin' in the litter box.  At least that's what I've heard.  But what happens in the litter box, stays in the litter box so we won't dwell on that box too much although I should say this...  never pee outside of the box.  It does not bode well with the peeps.  'Nough said.

I know what you're thinking right about now.  You're thinking, "but this saying refers to a different kind of box.  It refers to a metaphorical box."   Yeah, yeah, yeah...  I know what it means.  To think outside of the box means to think unconventionally and be creative. 

I did some research on the subject and apparently, this whole business about the location of boxes while thinkin' was popularised in the mid to late twentieth century and had something to do with a nine dots puzzle.  Peeps were supposed to link all nine of the dots using four straight lines and without lifting their pencil off the paper.  Apparently, this could not be done without extending the lines outside of the supposed - but imaginary - box.

My first suggestion to peeps tryin' to do this puzzle would be to use a pen.  Or a marker or chalk or a piece of charcoal...  Or even a tube of lipstick.  The puzzle specifically said not to lift the pencil off the paper.  It mentioned nothing about lipstick.

I suppose the whole point of the test was for the subjects to break free from the restrictive confines of the box.  The imaginary box.  I say imaginary because let's face it, nine dots do not a box, make.  Perhaps someone was takin' a little creative licence when they came up with that one.

The thing is, this saying has been said so many, many, many times that it has become a cliché.  It has become the cliché of all clichés.  People just say it 'cause they think it sounds good.  You have nothin' better to say?  Well then, toss out a couple of  think outside of the boxes and you'll be good to go.  You'll at least sound like you know something about creativity.

Yeah...  right.  Prove you're creative by usin' a sayin' that has been used by millions before.

You know somethin'?  Half the time when people use this sayin', they probably don't even know what it means.  I, myself, didn't know 'bout those dots until I did my research.

Personally, I don't believe in the box.  I do not recognise the box. 

Oh, I believe in cardboard boxes.  Yes, those exist for sure, and I love every single one of them.  After all, I am a cat.  And I believe in litter boxes, too.  We have several at our house so they must exist.  But I do not believe in the imaginary box that supposedly stifles creativity.

Think inside the box...  Think outside of the box...  Who cares about the box?  As far as I'm concerned, you can think wherever you like as long as your thinking.  I think wherever my mind takes me.  Wherever that may be. 

If my mind wants to take me inside of a box, so be it.  If my mind wants to take me outside of the box, I'm okay with that, too.  Who am I to argue?  And with whom am I gonna argue?  Myself?  'Cause that's what arguing with my mind would be.

Right now, my mind is taking me to the land of the dots.  I'm thinkin' about those dots.  Those nine dots.  And I'm wondering, were they the ancient ancestors of the red dot?  The ever illusive red dot known to drive kitties worldwide just a little crazy?  They could have been.  After all, the puzzle with the nine dots made a lot of peeps a little crazy, I am sure.  I think there may be a connection.  A connection of crazy.  Hmmm....

This may need further investigation.  Luckily I, Nerissa the Cat, am an expert investigator.  I will discover this previously unknown connection between the nine and the red dots and reveal it to the world in a future blog post. 

But first, I think I need a nap.   Hmmm...  should I take my nap in a box?  I think I just might.  And while I'm doin' so, I'm gonna be thinkin'.  Thinkin' inside of the box.  Thinkin' about gettin' rid of that metaphorical box.  'Cause it's just such an uncreative cliché of a box.  MOUSES!

until we meet again

September 6th, 2013

My Dearest Savannah,

By now, you will have heard the news.  The horrible and tragic news about our good friend Dash.  He's gone.  He was taken from us so suddenly.  I can barely contain my tears as I write this letter to you.  Why?  WHY???  Why our friend and confidant?  Why?  It isn't fair!

I've been trying to make sense of it all but to no avail.  All I can do is cry and whimper.  I have to admit, I'm a bit of a blubbering mess over here.  I'm not even interested in the nip. 

Peep #1 held me close and told me that I should try to focus on the good times we all had together.  You, me and Dash.  She said that thinking 'bout all the happy memories would make Dash's passing a little easier.  Not easy, by a long shot but perhaps, a little easier.  So I curled up on my peep's lap, closed my eyes and started to remember.

The first thing I remembered was the ding of the toaster.  DING!  Remember?  Dash was the only cat from New Zealand to ever send me anything via my toaster transporter.  Well, Dash was the only cat from New Zealand with a toaster transporter compatible with mine.  He must have tinkered with the toaster on his end 'cause from what I understand, most North American toaster transporters are not compatible with ones from other areas of the world.  Weird, when you think about it.  I mean...  what's the point of havin' toasters to transport if they won't transport everywhere?  But that was Dash for you...  a cat of vision.  Dash knew the score when it came to toasters and transportin'.

I still have the book he sent me.  I will cherish it, always.

Savvy, that's the book Dash found in The Old Booke Shoppe that had the sprig of Zealandian nip in it.  That's the book that sent us all off on that wild and wonderful adventure, together.  Those were the most exciting days of my life, ever.  Ever!  I loved every minute of them.  Well...  every minute that I can remember.  Some of it's a little hazy.  You know...  'cause of the nip and all.  Gosh that nip was strong stuff.

Dash was always tinkerin' with mechanical things in that workshop of his.  I always knew he had an interest in mechanics and whatnot but never realised just how big that interest was until we all took that trip together.  The trip for the nip.  Hehehe... 

You find out a lot about a cat when you time travel with him.  MOUSES!

I think Dash might have wanted to meet up with my brother Seville, at some point, to discuss the use of whisks in the development of time-travelling teleportation physics.  I have to admit, I was tryin' to discourage that meeting.  Seville is dangerous when it comes to whisks!  He seems to have a raw natural talent for the science but he takes way too many risks.  Yes, my brother takes risks with whisks. 

Seville will perform experiments without really thinkin' them through, you know?  Maybe...  maybe a partnership between Dash and Sivvers would have been a good thing.  With Dash's rational mind and straight-forward thinkin', he might have been just the steadying force my brother needs.  If only Dash was still with us.  If only...

Did you know that Dash was workin' on a submarine?  It's true.  I'm not sure where he planned to sail it, or anything.  Do you sail submarines?  Is that the right word?  Bet Dash would know.  I wish he was here so that I could ask him.

Dash's mum mentioned to my peep that she had been hearin' a lot of hammering in their garage, lately.  All that hammerin' had her a bit worried, I think.  Dash must have been tinkerin' with something in there.  I bet he was tinkerin' with that submarine.  I wonder how far he got.

Savvy, what if Dash was using whisk technology in conjunction with his submarine?  Whoa...  that would be powerful stuff.  No wonder he wanted to talk with Seville.  But now...  I guess...  I guess we'll never know.

Dash was quite upset when he found out that you had your own PawPal account, Savvy.  Hehehe...  I still remember what he said when he found out.  "Here I am, building a sub on a number 8 wire budget and Savvy has PawPal!"  He went trottin' off to tell his mum.  I wonder what she said.  I'm gonna ask the peep to ask her sometime.  Sometime when she's feelin' a bit better.

We had quite the landing when we teleported to New Zealand, huh?  Dash sure was a welcome sight.  He was right there, waitin' for us.  I sure was glad to see him.  Glad to see that jeep of his, too.  I had had just about enough of the teleportin' business right about then.  First I wrecked my egg beater teleportation device - thanks to Seville - and then I somehow managed to mess up your tunnel.  MOUSES! 

And remember how well he drove that jeep of his?  Dash was an amazin' driver!  Did he rent that jeep or did he build it?  I wouldn't be surprised if he had built it.  Dash was such a talented cat.  I think Dash could probably build anything he set his mind to building.


I was just thinking 'bout how protective Dash was of me when I was...  you know...  affected by all that nip in Zealandia.  I would never have made it out alive if it were not for you and Dash.  You and he grabbed me and practically dragged me out of that field with the nip.  Practically dragged me to safety. 

Dash was such a good friend to us both.  He was the perfect cat to accompany us on our adventure.  Couldn't have asked for anyone better.  Not anyone at all.

Oh Savvy...  Peep #1 says that we'll all be able to meet up with Dash again.  She says that in the distant future, when it's our time to travel to the Rainbow Bridge, we'll see him once more.  We'll see our dear friend and confidant.  We'll be able to share stories and nip and treats and whatnot.  But the peep says it's not our time yet so we must wait.  Wait until...  until we meet again.

Love and purrs,
Nissy

of pots and kettles

A funny thing happened the other day....

First of all, I must provide you with some background information.  I need to paint the scene, so to speak.  But I'm gonna paint with words instead of paint 'cause...  well...  firstly, I don't have any paint and secondly, even if I did, I just washed my paws.

We have these neighbours and they make a lot of noise and that, my friends, is the understatement of the century.  They really make a lot of noise.  For the first half of the summer, they were making noise with table saws and chain saws and who knows what other kind of saws.  They were doin' something with wood and saws although I have no idea what.  It kind of looked like they were cutting up firewood or something but as far as I know, they don't have a fireplace or even a wood stove.  Their house doesn't have a chimney for a wood-burning stove but maybe they have something else.

But our problem was not with the wood.  It was with the noise.  The noise was unbearable.  My peeps wouldn't even go out in the backyard when it was going on and it was going on a lot.  Every single day for several weeks.  The peeps couldn't go out on the deck, peep #1 stopped workin' in the garden 'cause the noise was hurtin' her ears and neither peep could hear the television in the family room if the windows were open.  And since it was summer and hot, they wanted to open the windows.

My peeps were mad.  They were madder than a mad hatter.  They were madder than the maddest mad hatter the world had ever seen.  It was not lookin' good.

And when these neighbours were not makin' noise with the saws, they were makin' noise with their voices.  They were talkin' but their talkin' voices had a way of carrying.  I don't think they were actually yelling.  Their voices just carried, extremely well.  I'll give 'em an A plus on that front.  They seem to be extremely skilled at makin' their voices carry. 

And let me tell you, they have quite the vocabulary.  There was this one particular word that they used a lot.  I won't publish it here 'cause it's not fit for mixed company...  and by mixed company I mean cats as well as peeps.  Anywho...  one day I heard one of them using this particular word as a noun, verb, adjective and adverb all in the same sentence and to be perfectly honest, it sounded like it came quite naturally.  No effort at all.  Apparently, they know how to use this naughty word, very well.

My peeps were furious about the noise but they were pretty upset with the language, too.

Then one day, ol' peepers decided enough was enough.  She spotted a woman whom she believed to be the mother of one of the men livin' in the house and she realised the opportunity she had at paw.  Ol' peepers flung open a family room window and had a somewhat one-sided conversation with herself.  She faced the open window and used her I'm on stage and will project voice.  When the peep uses that voice, it carries very well, too.

"We're not going to put up with this anymore," she said.  "If it doesn't stop, I'm calling the police and then I'll be calling the county to lodge a complaint.  We have the right to enjoy our own property..."  She went on and on and on.  She mentioned the constant and unbearable loud noise from the wood stuff that was hurtin' her ears and she talked about the use of the word to which I alluded, earlier.  Once she had said what needed to be said, she closed the window.

Well, the next week, the saws started up again on Monday evening but for only half an hour and they were never heard from, again.

Does my peep have the magic touch or what?

Okay...  that's my painted backdrop.  Now here's the funny part.

The other day, ol' peepers was checkin' on her plumeria babies on the deck.  I was right there, beside her, making sure she did it right.  Off in the distance, we could hear someone playing the bagpipes.  We don't know who plays the bagpipes but someone in our subdivision does 'cause we hear it quite often.  It's never that loud though.  Peep #1 doesn't even like the bagpipes and the sound doesn't bother her at all.  It's just not that loud.

Anywho...  one of the neighbours pulled into his driveway and I guess he heard the bagpipes, too, 'cause then we heard him yell,  "Shut up!  Blankety-blank!  No one wants to listen to the blankety-blank bagpipes!"

Okay...  the blankety-blank parts I wrote, myself.  They weren't part of the original quote but I couldn't publish the words used in the original quote.  Nerissa's Life is a family-friendly blog, you see.

Anywho...  all I know is that if there was anyone in the world who did not have a right to complain about some bagpipes bein' played off in the distance, it was that man, the other day.  I mean, talk about pots and kettles!  Does he not realize that no one wanted to hear his wood-workin' work which was much, much louder, day after day after day after day after day after...  You get my point, I am sure.

make up your mind already!

What is it with peeps?  Have you ever noticed how they just can't seem to make up their minds?  You give them one thing, they want something else.  You give them that something else and they want the first thing, again.  Like I said, they just can't make up their minds.

And peeps would have you believe that it's we cats who can't make up our minds.  It's true.  Remember that T.S. Elliot dude?  Remember what he wrote about the cat named Tugger who was into the rum?  It was something like that.  Anywho...  that Elliot dude wrote all about some cat in a house who wanted a flat but when he got a flat, he wanted a house.  Then he started talking 'bout mice and rats.

I'm kind of thinking he might have been projecting his own indecisiveness on us cats.  The proof might even be in his own writing.  One moment, he's all happy to be talkin' about housing and in the very next sentence he switches over to the topic of fine dining.  I'm sure that's the sign of a peep who is unable to make up his own mind.  MOUSES!

And you know, my peep #1 is right in there with the indecisive nature of her species.  One moment she's happy to be a peep.  Next thing I know, she's singing songs from CATS.  Again I say, MOUSES!

One day, a week or two ago, the peep did some laundry.  The sun was shining and there wasn't a cloud in sight.  Now, you'd think that if someone wanted to hang laundry out to dry, a sunny day would be a good thing.  I mean, wouldn't you?  My peep was complaining 'bout everything being dry at the very moment she was hanging up her laundry. 

I thought to myself, the woman must be nuts.  But even my crazy peep deserves to get what she wants once in a while so I called Mother Nature and ordered up some showers.  Well you should have heard the complaints when the peep's almost dry laundry was getting rained on that afternoon.  There's just no pleasin' some people.  Know what I mean?

For over two weeks, ol' peepers was complaining 'bout the lack of rain.  I admit, it was pretty dry.  Where grass had once been green, it was now brown.  Where it had been soft and squishy under one's paws, it had turned hard and crunchy.  The flowers were all droopy and looked ever-so-sad.  Pathetic is a word that comes to mind.  Even the weeds were complaining.  Everything out in the garden was cryin' for rain.

I told the peep she had better give the plants a drink or two.  This, of course, required her to haul out the hose and the sprinkler and whatnot.  Apparently, the hose is very heavy.  From the grunts emanating from ol' peepers, you'd think it weighed a tonne...  or more!  I sure did have one grumpy peep on my paws. 

Oh, the complaints!  You should have heard 'em.  Finally I just put my paws over my ears and told the peep to get crackin' before the plants died of thirst.  I reminded her that she'd be complaining even more if they did, in fact, die of thirst.  That got her back to the task at paw.  Sometimes, one must use a very firm paw with one's peep.  It had to be done and so I did it.


At one point, the peep set up the sprinkler in the front yard.  She put it where it would water the driest of the grass and the flower beds by the front door.  Then she went to water the plants on the veranda.  Apparently, the peep's positioning of the sprinkler was not the best.  It was a little too close to the house, I think.  Oh, it watered that really dry grass and the flower beds, all right.  It also watered the peep!  That's right.  The peep watered herself.  The water from the sprinkler came right onto the veranda and onto the peep, while she was watering those potted plants. 

Cats are so much better natured than peeps.  Did you hear me complaining about how the sprinkler managed to soak the chairs on the veranda where I like to relax?  No.  All you could have heard me doing was laughing at the peep 'cause...  well...  that's what I was doin'.  It was really funny.  The water from the sprinkler - I am told - was a little on the chilly side.  Hehehe...  Good times.

Anywho...  another round of complaints ensued.

I guess Mother Nature was upset that her little shower on the laundry had not been appreciated 'cause late last week, she got all weird and cranky.  The skies would suddenly darken and mean lookin' clouds would roll in.  Peep was thinkin' the rain was on its way but none of it came.  It was very weird.  It did that two or three times, I believe.

Then, finally on Sunday, it rained.  Actually, it didn't just rain.  It poured.  Severe thunderstorm warnings and everything.  And thunder, it did.  I thought for sure someone had built a ten pin bowling hall in the skies above.  Either that, or a caterwauling practise hall in which peeps like my peep could gather while other peeps came to dance wearin' super heavy wooden shoes.  The rain came down in torrents.  Bucket after bucket after bucket of the stuff fell and there was even more forecast for the next few days.

I thought to myself, ol' peepers will be happy.  She's gettin' the rain the garden needs.  There will be no more hose and sprinkler hauling around the yard.

But you know peeps...

"Oh, it's raining on Labour Day Weekend.  That'll ruin everyone's picnics and barbequing.  What a shame."  Yes, that is exactly what the peep said.

You give her sun, she wants rain.  You give her rain, she wants sun.  Once more I say, MOUSES!

a little of this...

...and a little of that.  This and that!

Well, well, well...  looks like another award has come my way and I'm ever so pleased.  It's a real beauty.  It's called the Wonderful Team Member Leadership Award and I love it!  Special thanks to my pal Katie, who writes the amazin' blog, Katie Isabella, for thinkin' of me.  Thank you Katie!  I appreciate your thoughtfulness, immensely.

There's not much to accepting this Wonderful Team Member Leadership Award.  All I need do is thank Katie for givin' it to me, link' to her blog - which I did above but am gonna do again 'cause I love it so much.  THANK YOU KATIE! - and pass the award along to another fourteen bloggin' cats and dogs.  Easy as can be.  Easy peasy, as they say. 

So without further ado, the winners are...

- Sushi at Sushi's Diary
- Quinn at Catitude
- everyone at Furries of Whisppy
- Brian at Brian's Home
- Angel at angelswhisper
- Pierre, Ashton & Newton at Sometimes Cats Herd You
- Purrla at Singapore Kitty
- Sammy at onespoiledcat
- Oui Oui at Twinkletoe Tails
- Dash at DashKitten
- Timmy at Tomcat Commentary by Tim
- Austin at CATachresis
- Cocco at My Mini Pet Pig
- Quint at Colehaus Cats

Now, some of you may have received this award before.  I have myself but the first time, the award had a different graphic.  I really like this pretty new graphic with the smilin' sun a lot so I said to myself, I'm gonna accept it again!  Why not?  It's there for the takin'.

And since the Wonderful Team Member Leadership Award is all about workin' as a team, I do hope everyone will check out all the blogs receivin' the award today, as well as Katie's blog, Katie Isabella.  They're all AMAZIN' blogs and deserve to be read and read and then, read again.

So, that takes care of the this.  Now how about a little of the that?

Did you hear my big news?  It happened a few weeks ago.  Facebook spell check now accepts MOUSES! as a word.  Yoo-hoo!  YOO-HOO!!!  No red squiggles or yellow highlights or any or that.  Blogger, by the way, accepts it, too.  Ironically, although Blogger is acceptin' MOUSES! as a word, its spell check highlights in bright yellow the words, Facebook, blog and...  get this...  Blogger!  MOUSES!

I'm so happy 'bout this.  We all used MOUSES! so often, it has been accepted by the powers that be.  See what we can do as a team?  Amazin' stuff.

I am still waiting to hear back from my friends at Webster and Oxford.

Oh, and did you hear about my grey fur?  It's true.  I have a little patch of sparklin' white fur in my jet black stripe down my back.  MOUSES!  I pointed it out to my doctor the last time I was there and she says it happens quite often after fur has been shaved and, sure enough, that patch has appeared right where they shaved my fur to apply the pain patch when I had my knee bionicized.  I knew that shavin' business was gonna cause trouble.  I just knew it.  Again I say, MOUSES!

And some late breaking news from a couple of weeks ago.  That's the late part, my friends.  The fact that I am late with tellin' you 'bout this.  I have tweeted about it, numerous times, but neglected to write about it here, on my blog.  I am sorry.  I've let you all down.  I promise to never do that again unless, of course, I accidentally do.

Anywho...  apparently, there is a world-wide egg beater shortage.  This is causing major difficulties for those of us who use egg beaters as a power source for teleportation.  Tunnel teleporters have, so far, been unaffected. 

My brother Seville is quite pleased to assure everyone that whisks are still widely available.  I haven't yet informed him that the science of egg beater-whisk time travelling-teleportation requires both egg beaters and whisks.  Why break his little marmalade heart unnecessarily?  In the meantime, he has been busy fiddling with his whisks and I am happy to say that his fiddling has been pretty much benign when the whisks are not being used in conjunction with egg beaters.  We've had a few broken eggs but that's about all the damage, so far.  Rest assured that we do, however, have a case of egg beaters on order.