winter wonderland... NOT!

"Not again.  MOUSES!" Nissy cried as he turned away from the window and stomped across the kitchen floor.  "I'm gonna have to do somethin' about that weatherman.  HE'S DOIN' IT ALL WRONG!"

"What's up, Nissy?" asked Seville. "What has got your fur all ruffled this time?"

"Have you been outside?  I was gonna go out and play in the snow but just look at it out there!  The snow is all meltin' and it's startin' to rain again.  I was all ready for a little fun time.  Fun in the sun...  and the snow.  A winter wonderland kind of fun.  Thought I might make a snowcat or somethin'.  Can't make a snowcat out of rain," Nissy grumbled.

Seville glanced outside.  "Think spring might be on its way.  That means primroses and daffodils and sunpuddles.  All good stuff, Niss."

Nissy let out a loud sigh of exasperation.  "It's only January, Seville.  We still have all of February and most of March to go before spring.  Just look at the calendar," and he pointed up at the wall. "See?  Another six weeks of winter at least."

"Seville," and Nerissa stretched out a paw to touch his marmalade brother on the shoulder, "there's only one thing for it.  You and I are gonna head on over to the Worldwide Weather Offices and have a little chat with whomever is in charge over there.  Those weather peeps have got some explainin' to do, for sure.  Now, where did I put that card..."  Nissy started rifling through the various business cards stuck to the refrigerator with magnets.

"Got it!" Nissy cried exuberantly.  "Worldwide Weather Offices, Forecasting and Control, Canadian Division.  I just knew this would come in handy sometime.  Come on Sivvers, you and I are goin' to Ottawa.  SIVVERS!  Prepare the teleportation device.  Here are the necessary co-ordinates," and he thrust the business card into Seville's paw.

"Okay...  if you insist.  Nissy, grab an egg beater and hop in the pan and this time," suggested Seville, "let's bring along some snacks."

"Good thinkin'," and Nissy grabbed a couple of burgers that happened to have been left out on the counter, hoping against all hope, they weren't veggie burgers meant for the peeps' lunches. Remembering the time he accidentally bit into a veggie burger by mistake, sent a shiver down his spine and being a cat, Nissy had a very long spine to shiver.

Within seconds the two cats were hovering over Parliament Hill.  Seville made a sharp turn, narrowly avoiding a collision with a Canadian flag.  They landed softly in a snowdrift, just outside a small door which appeared to lead into an obsolete area of one of the Parliament Buildings.

Nissy stood up, brushing some snow off himself and giving his tail a shake.  He tossed the disgusting veggie burger over his shoulder and quietly vowed to never again steal a burger from either of his peeps.  He looked around at the white landscape.  "I see they have plenty of snow here," he muttered to himself.

Approaching the door before him, Nissy paused before turning the knob and pushing it open.  A gust of cold air hit him in the face, causing him to wince and turn away just in time to see a snowball soar past his head and hit Seville in the face.  "This is the place," Nissy proclaimed.  "I've heard about there bein' snow and whatnot inside the Worldwide Weather Offices.  Weird stuff but you know... Canadian weather is known to be weird."

The two cats entered the room which appeared far larger on the inside than they had expected it to be.  There were trees growing inside the offices.  Growing right out of the ground.  No plant pots or anything.  And the floor was covered in a layer of snow.  Had Nissy not known better, he would have sworn that they were outside.  He gazed up at the ceiling which had to be at least twenty-five feet high.  Large snowflakes were falling from above.  Catching one on his tongue, it melted.  "Yup, that's snow alright," he decided.  Floating above their heads, were clouds.  Some were white and fluffy while others were dark and ominous looking.  Nissy wondered if a storm might be brewing.

Movement caught Nissy's eye and he looked over at an open door just in time to see a man running past it and down the hall.  "Take that!" cried a second man, throwing a particularly large snowball at the first.

Seville looked at his brother, questioningly.  "Uhhh...  Niss...  Were those two men Senators?" he asked.

"No...  No...  No, I'm pretty sure they were both MPs.  One of 'em might even be a Cabinet Minister or somethin'.  He looks kind of familiar.  MOUSES!  No wonder our country has got political problems."

It wasn't long before a little man carrying a stack of books appeared before the cats.  "And how may I help you?" he asked.  "Don't see many cats around here these days.  There used to be lots of cats in these here parts but not so many now.  Nice to meet you.  My name is Weatherby.  William Weatherby at your service," and he extended a hand to shake the cats' paws.

"Hey there.  I'm Nerissa and this is my brother, Seville.  We're here about the weather."

"Well of course!" exclaimed Weatherby.  "Why else would you come to the Worldwide Weather Offices, Forecasting and Control, Canadian Division?"

Nissy took Weatherby aside and explained to him the issues he was facing regarding the weather and his inability to build a snowcat.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk...  You experienced sub-zero temperatures, icy conditions, a blizzard, clear weather, snow, rain, snow, more rain and more snow all within a week?  My, my, my...   That is strange. Very strange, indeed.  Even for Canada," Weatherby said to Nissy.   "And this was all just last week?  In January?  Hmmm...."

"It was and the day after the blizzard, the peep dug out paths for me in the snow.  They were like castle walls.  Over a foot high, they were," Nissy explained to Weatherby.  "Such fun sneaking around in those paths but then the very next day, the rain came along and turned my castle walls into ruins.  Not so great, if you know what I mean."

"May I ask if this odd weather had been forecast?" asked Weatherby.

Seville stepped up beside Nerissa, ducking another flying snowball thrown by one of the two MPs running past the open door again, this time in the opposite direction.  "Yes Mr. Weatherby, the weird weather was forecast.  I heard our peeps talking about the odd weather after listening to it on the news."

"Well then," considered Weatherby, "clearly this is a problem with control and not forecasting. Controlling the weather is governed by a sub-committee.  It's a Parliamentary sub-committee of a subcommittee of one of the many sub-committees.  Their offices are just next door but before you can even speak to any of those little control freaks, you'll need to fill out a few forms."  Weatherby snapped his fingers and two young assistants appeared, each pushing a cart through the snow on the floor.  The carts were heavily laden with five foot high stacks of forms.  Weatherby introduced the cats to Jack and Jill Frost, his two office assistants.  "Start filling out these forms," he instructed the cats, "while I go get you the rest of them.   And some tape.  After you fill out all the forms, we'll stick them together with some red tape."

Nissy and Seville looked up at the stacks of forms.  They looked way, way up.  "We have to fill out all of these forms?" they asked in unison.

"Of course," answered Weatherby.  "What did you expect?  This is Ottawa."

At that moment, one of the dark, ominous-looking clouds that Nissy had noticed when they had first entered the Worldwide Weather Offices, let loose with a heavy downpour of rain.

"MOUSES!" Nissy cried and several dozen mice appeared, dragging large umbrellas for the cats to use.  Nissy and Seville each popped open an umbrella and started filling out the dozens upon dozens of forms that lay before them.

"I'll go get you the rest," Weatherby told them.  "Be back in a jiff!" and with that, he disappeared into the hall where, the snow appeared to still be falling and even more heavily than before.

Weatherby slipped on some ice.  The two MPs were still running back and forth through the halls, throwing snowballs and tripped over Weatherby. A snowball rolled into the room, stopping by Nerissa's right-hind paw. Nissy looked down at the snowball and then over at the men and glared.  All three jumped up before scurrying away.

Nissy returned to filling out the forms.  One down, nine hundred and ninety-nine to go," he muttered. "MOUSES!"


Be sure to return on Sunday February 2nd, for part two of the cats' adventure.  Stay tuned...

the dental

Looks like my sister, Tess, is goin' in for a dental this week.  Yup, it's true.  She has a sore tooth.

The peeps realised Tess had a sore tooth when she started growlin' at her food one day.  Now, growlin' for Tess is nothing new.  It's not news at all.  News, is by definition, new.  I should know 'cause you know... I, myself, am a bit of an investigative reporter and whatnot.  I understand what makes the news, news.

Anywho...  Tess' growling was nothin' new so it couldn't possibly be considered news.  Tess growls at the peeps.  She growls at the rest of us cats.  She even growls at the weather!  But she had never growled at her food before.  That's how the peeps figured out somethin' was wrong.

So last Tuesday night, Tess was shoved into a carrier and taken to see the doctor.  That's right... shoved.  Believe me, she didn't just waltz in when the carrier door was opened.  No, she wormed and she squirmed and eventually, Peep #2 held the carrier on its end while the first peep held Tess' back paws together with one hand, her front paws together with the other hand and directed Tess into the carrier, tail-end first.  I was watching from a safe distance and if I didn't know better, I would have thought I was watchin' an episode of Cops or somethin'.  You know, when the officer puts his paw on the suspect's head when gettin' him into the police car 'cause he's under arrest.  Of course, on Cops, the suspects don't usually growl.

Tess was growlin' up a storm in the kitchen while bein' shoved into that carrier.  I am told, however, that she didn't make a single peep on the way to the doctors' office or even in the waiting room while waitin' for the doctor.  Very unusual, indeed.  The peep checked a couple of times to make sure she was still breathin' in there.  She was.  I think, perhaps, she was plotting her revenge.

When Tess and the peeps finally got into the examination room, Tess had to be first examined by the nurse.  Usual stuff.  Temperature takin' and whatnot.  Oh, the indignity of the temperature taking! Why-oh-why-oh-why the nurses can't take our temperatures by lookin' in our ears or somethin' is beyond me.  Anywho...  the deed was done.  Tess' temperature was normal.

But then the nurse wanted to take a look in Tess' mouth. Tess decided that she had suffered in silence for far too long.  There was a growl.  Then another.  And then another.  Then came the screeches.  The howls.  The hissing and the spitting.  My sister, Tess, was back and in fine form.  That's the spirit!  You go girl.  The nurse understood, right away, that Tess was upset 'cause her mouth was hurtin' her.

Tess' behaviour was actually quite unusual 'cause usually, Tess purrs while at the hospital.  Oh, she growls and howls and screeches alright but she usually saves all that up for those with whom she feels the most comfortable...  her family.  With nurses and doctors, she purrs.  MOUSES!

But Tuesday night was different.  On Tuesday night, Tess decided she was havin' none of this business with peeps lookin' in her mouth.  Wasn't gonna happen.  No way, no how, was she gonna let the nurse look there.

The doctor arrived on the scene and Tess continued to behave as she had with the nurse.  She kept on hissing and spitting and whatnot.  She even made the first peep a little nervous and usually, the first peep is quite good in these situations which is amazin' since Peep #1 was once sent to the peep emergency room after bein' bitten fourteen times by my Auntie Primrose on Bloody Wednesday.  I once blogged all about that, remember?  But I digress.

Usually, whenever any of us are seein' the doctor, the first peep holds us when the doctors and nurses do unmentionable things like takin' our temperatures not in our ears.  But on Tuesday, Tess was hissing and spitting and growling and screeching so much that it was suggested that perhaps the nurse should hold Tess while the doctor looked at those teeth.

The gloves were mentioned.  I'm sure you've heard of the gloves.  The doctor called them kitty gloves but I'm pretty sure I saw once someone on television holding an eagle and it looked to me like they were wearin' the very same pair of gloves.  Thick leather right up to the elbows.

I'm not sure the doctor was able to get a very good look inside Tess' mouth.  I'm not sure that she was able to get a look at all.  Tess told me later that she's pretty sure she stopped that from happenin'.

I kind of think it was just decided that an appointment for surgery would be booked and a better look could be taken while Tess was snoozin' on the operatin' table.  I've never heard my sister growl while sleepin' so I think the doctors should be...  NO.  Wait a minute.  On second thought, I have heard my sister Tess growl while sleepin'.  Like I said before, my sister Tess growls at EVERYTHING.

But believe it or not, Tess made it through her very noisy doctor's appointment without a single drop of blood bein' shed.  Not hers or the doctor's or the nurse's or even the peep's.  All in all, it went well considering how upset Tess was that night.

Tess is thinkin' she managed to convince the doctor that her teeth are just fine but I looked on the calender and I happened to notice that she has an appointment booked for Wednesday mornin'.  Yup, it's true.  That means no snacks for any of us on Tuesday night after eight o'clock. MOUSES!  Whatever will we do?

tables of water

Truth be told, I've had a couple of nervous peeps on my paws the last week or so.  I did my best to console them.  I purred a lot.  I let them rub my tummy.  I purred some more.  I let them give me chin tickles and behind-the-ear scritches.  I purred even more.  I practically purred myself out!  Yup, that's how much I purred but still, the peeps remained nervous.

Luckily, the nervousness has subsided...  as has the water.  I believe the two are connected.

It all started when Peep #2 came up from the basement and mentioned that there was water in the sump pump.  Just what is a sump pump, you ask?  Who knows.  It's that thing in the corner of the laundry room in my basement.  I usually avoid it, myself but from what I've seen, it's a big hole in the floor.  Don't know WHY the peeps wanted a hole in the floor but they did.  MOUSES!

Anywho...   the big hole in the floor was fillin' up with water.  From what I understood, this was not good.  Apparently, all that snow Santa brought at Christmas started to melt when Mother Nature whipped up the January thaw.  Then, on top of the meltin' snow, it rained.  All that melted snow and rain went into the ground.  Down and down it went until it met up with something called a water table.

Now this is where it gets interesting.  Apparently, under my house, is a table made of water.  Weird, huh?  That's what I thought, too!  Why would anyone make a table out of water?  It's a very strange concept, indeed.

Water doesn't provide a very firm surface so it's a very odd material with which to make a table. Wood is usually used.  That makes sense.  Wood is good and hard.  You put a plate on a wooden table and it sits right there on that table.  You put a plate on a pool of water and...  well...  well it's gonna sink.  That's 'cause water isn't firm like wood or stone or glass or even plastic.  All of those are far better materials with which to make a table.

Now some things can float in water.  I know this from experience.  Now that I think about it, I remember that three or four years ago, that ol' water table got even higher than it did last week and came right up over the basement floor.  It's true.

And do you know what else is true?  Litter boxes are capable of floating in water.  Yup, they float just like little boats and sail around the basement when the basement floods.  I didn't sail in any of 'em, though. In order to do that, I would have had to have gotten into one and that would have necessitated my wadin' through the cold, icy water and my paws would have gotten wet.  I really don't like havin' wet paws.  I could have waited at the bottom step for a litter box to dock and climbed in from there but...  well...  the litter boxes never docked at the staircase.  Also, I didn't have a ticket.  I think one needs a ticket to sail in a boat.  At least, that's what I've heard.  MOUSES!

Furniture, however, does not float.  Neither do appliances.  They just sit in the water.  They just sit there gettin' wet and sometimes, they break.  Peeps lost a freezer the last time this water table reared its ugly head.  They were pretty annoyed, if I remember correctly.  The old little freezer was okay but the big one they had had for only a year went caput.  Apparently, freezers are like cats.  They don't like wet paws, either.

Peepers tells me that the water table has actually come up above the basement floor three times in the fourteen or fifteen years they have lived here.  That table is down there, lurking and just waiting to cause trouble.  Kind of sounds a little like Nosey Neighbour Cat, if you ask me.

Yesterday, that Old Man Winter came back and shoved Mother Nature and her little thaw out of the way.  The colder temperatures mean no more rain.  Oh yeah, sure, we happen to have a blizzard warnin' for today but at least it will be snow comin' down and not rain.  Plus, none of that snow will be melting 'cause it's just way too cold for snow to melt unless it happens to be a flake you've caught on your tongue and it melts in your mouth but quite frankly, it's too cold out there for me to be catchin' the flakes.  I'm stayin' inside today where I'm nice and warm and snug as a bug in a rug. NOT THAT WE HAVE ANY BUGS!  Well...  Nosey Neighbour Cat sometimes bugs me but that's a different kind of bug, I think.

The peeps are quite pleased that it's cold again.  That ol' table of water is droppin' now.  Yup, they can see it gettin' lower and lower and lower in the big hole in the floor of the basement.  The water table is headin'...  south?  No, down.  Yes, most definitely down.

But I have to wonder why anyone would build a house on top of a table made of water.  Well, the peeps weren't responsible for that.  They're responsible for a lot of the foolishness that goes on in my house but not for that.  The people who built the house are the ones who would be responsible for this particular foolishness.  Yes, they really should have known that water simply does not provide a solid surface upon which a house can sit.

From what I've heard, when the basement was originally dug, water started pouring in.  A neighbour on another street said he saw it happenin'. I don't think he was lyin'.  I think he was snoopin' around and whatnot after dark but good thing he was 'cause now we know more about this water table business.

Had I been in charge, I would have stopped digging right there and then and filled in the hole before startin' over but not diggin' down so deeply the second time.  That's what other people livin' around here did when encounterin' the same issue.  But that's not what happened.  Instead, the water drained away and the people buildin' the house just kept on buildin'.  Maybe they were thinkin' of puttin' in an indoor swimmin' pool or somethin'.  Could be.  Stranger things have happened.

But there is a moral to this story and the moral is this.  Don't make tables out of water.  'Nough said.  MOUSES!

not a cheep from the peep

So the other night, I was sittin' in the family room with the peeps.  Okay, I wasn't really sitting.  I was more like lyin' down, havin' my tummy rubbed and gettin' scritches behind the ears and whatnot.  It was Thursday and Thursday nights are one of the best nights for tummy rubs.  Thursdays and Sundays. Those are the two nights with the best things on television.  That's my time with the peeps.

Anywho...  I was lyin' down next to Peep #1, gettin' my tummy rubbed, when I heard noises comin' from the living room.  I raised my head, opened my eyes, tilted my ears in the correct direction and listened in.  It was just as I thought.  Someone was playin' the piano.  No big deal.  I closed my eyes again and went to put my head back down but before my head could touch the fabric of the couch I opened my eyes wide and cried, "MOUSES!"

You see, it was at that very moment when I realised that my peeps were both in the family room with me.  I double checked.  I was right.  Peep #1 was on one side of me and Peep #2 was on the other. So the question begged to be asked.  JUST WHO WAS PLAYIN' THE PIANO?

Was it a ghost?  Was it an intruder?  Was it a ghostly piano-playin' intruder?  All valid questions, for sure.

Peep #1 must have realised somethin' was amiss at about the same time 'cause she got up and went to investigate.  Bein' an investigative reportin' cat myself, not to mention a member of the FBI, I followed her.

By the time we reached the living room, my Auntie Blossom was just in the process of hoppin' down onto the floor from the piano bench.  Mystery solved.  My Auntie Blossom had been the one playin' the piano.


Now before you start thinkin' that my Auntie Blossom is some kind of amazin' piano playin' virtuoso of a cat who could entertain the Queen at Buckingham Palace, think again.  She's not all that good.  When my Auntie Blossom plays the piano, really all she does is walk across the keys. I don't think she's ready for a record deal or a concert tour or anythin' like that...  YET.  One never knows.  She has left herself lots of room for improvement.  Perhaps if she practises really hard...  Nah.  Not gonna happen.

And speakin' of cats and peeps not playin' instruments very well.  Let me tell you what once happened to my Peep #1.  The followin' is a true story, told to me by none other than the peep.

Long, long ago in the ancient times of dinosaurs and whatnot, Peep #1 was just a little peep.  Just a kid.  Not like a baby goat kind of kid but rather, a peep kind of kid.  A child.  Actually, she was an adolescent.  A teenager or whatever.

Anywho...  Peep #1 thought she might like to take music lessons in school but in order to do that, she needed to play an instrument.  Well, she already knew how to play the piano but that wasn't one of the instruments from which she was allowed to choose.  She had to pick somethin' suitable for a band.

I would have suggested that she play rubber bands 'cause I understand they're loads of fun for playin' although I have never, ever played with a rubber band, myself.  Peep keeps 'em all tucked away in safe hiding places where I can't get to them 'cause rubber bands are super dangerous for cats.

So she couldn't choose the piano and apparently, she wasn't allowed to pick rubber bands, either. So the peep picked the flute.

Now Peep #1 knew that all the other kids taking music in high school already knew how to play their instruments so she figured she would have to know at least a little about playin' the flute before school started up in the fall. Accordingly, a flute was rented and the peep was sent to private flute lessons that spring and summer.  Well...  when I say spring and summer, I really mean just a month and a half or so.  Yeah, about six weeks.  She was supposed to go for much longer but...  but let's just say that things don't always work out as planned.

After about six weeks of her flute lessons, the peep was asked to quit.  That's right.  Peep #1 was asked - by her teacher - to quit coming to her lessons.  It wasn't workin' out.

And just what did the peep do to make things not work out?  A very good question, indeed, although it was really more like what she didn't do.  What she didn't do was make a sound.  That's right... after six weeks of lessons, the peep had not made a single sound with that ol' flute.  There had not been a single cheep from the peep.  Not a one.  Could you imagine?  MOUSES!

I'm told that her fingering was excellent.  I don't really know what that means but the peep seems to think it's important so I'm repeating it.  And, of course, she already knew how to read music.  She just couldn't play it.  At least, not so that anyone could hear.

When the peep told me this story, I really thought she was makin' it all up.  I mean...  that peep of mine has a set of lungs on her.  I'VE HEARD HER CATERWAUL.  Peeps on the other side of the planet have heard her caterwaul.  Seriously, I've been told exactly that.  When the peep practises her caterwaulin', we have to take the phone off the hook 'cause the complaints start pourin' in from all four corners of the Earth.  Not that the Earth has corners 'cause you know...   it's round.  Or is it? Anywho...  suffice it to say that when Ol' Peepers takes to the caterwaulin', she manages to turn the volume up full blast.

Peepers claims that you have to do somethin' weird with your mouth or lips or somethin' to make a flute make sound and that she just couldn't ever figure out how to do that.  She claims that that was the whole problem.  Could be true, I suppose.  Ol' Peepers doesn't know how to whistle, either.  She can trill her lips and roll her 'r's but she can't make a single whistle-like sound unless she uses an actual whistle.  Maybe these two failings of hers are connected or somethin'.

All I have to say about the matter is that it's a good thing I'm a cat and not a dog 'cause firstly, it would sound super stupid if I were known as Nerissa the Cat but I was actually a dog.  And secondly, lots of peeps call their dogs by whistling.  If I were a dog, the peep would never be able to call me.  I suppose I could call her, though.  If I had a dog-sized cell phone or somethin'.  Yeah, I could call her on that. I wonder if she'd answer?  Not if she was caterwaulin' at the time.  Nope, not then 'cause like I said, when the peep starts up with the caterwaulin', we have to take the phone off the hook.  MOUSES!

next time, I'll go myself

It rained yesterday.  It rained and it rained and it rained.  It wasn't as heavy as they said it would be.  They said we should be prepared for a heavy rainfall warnin' but it really wasn't all that heavy. It just went on for a long time.  A really long time.  Pretty much all day.

It wasn't that long ago when the weather was too cold for rain.  Not that long ago, it was freezin'...  literally.  Plus, there was snow.  Not much of the snow about now.  The rain seems to have washed it all away.

It's kind of weird 'cause you'd think that after the rain did all that washin', everything would be all nice and clean but truth be told, it's a mess out there.  Yup, a right ol' mess.  There's muddy stuff here and grungy stuff there.  Even the snow is dirty!  Well, what's left of it, that is.  Has bits of gravel and sand and whatnot stuck in it.  Icky.

Anywho...  even though it was wet and pretty nasty outside yesterday, Ol' Peepers had to venture out into the elements.  One of the stops she made was the grocery store.  I knew she was goin' there.  I told her she needed to go.  Our supply of food was runnin' low.  We needed some tins of our favourites, not to mention some snacks.  Well..  actually...  we didn't need snacks.  Santa brought tonnes of treats at Christmas and we still have lots of them left but we absolutely, really and truly, needed some food.  Food was needed, for sure.

When Peep #1 came home, she was a little on the grumpy side.  I think she stepped in a puddle or somethin'.  Her boots kind of looked like they had been through a puddle or two.  Or three...

Ol' Peepers walked into the kitchen and dropped a couple of bags onto the floor.  Then she headed back outside to get some more.  After three or four trips, she took off her coat and boots and clearly had no intention of goin' back outside.

I sniffed around the bags and peered into a few.  "Hey Peepers!" I cried.  "Where's the rest?"  I had to ask 'cause...  you see...  there were only two bags containing my favourite kind of cat food.  And those two bags weren't all that big, either.

Now you might think that two bags of cat food tins is a lot but when there are ten cats livin' in one house, it really isn't.  We go through several tins a day!  Two bags doesn't last long at all.  In fact, havin' only two bags of tins brought in is quite a disconcerting thought.  We could starve or somethin'!  And it's not like we can eat the peeps' food to tide us over or anythin'.  Those peeps of mine are a couple of veggies.  What they eat isn't fit for a cat, at all.

The peep had a bunch of excuses for her slackness but basically what happened is this...

We have just two proper grocery stores around here.  I've never been to either but I've heard all about 'em.

So the peep went to the grocery store that is closest and was quite happy to see that they had lots of tins of our favourite, Turkey and Giblets.  Quite often, they don't have any of this kind at the store 'cause I guess it's everyone's favourite and the store seems to have a difficult time rememberin' to re-order.  Either that or they don't know how to keep track of what they've sold.

Anywho...  the peep was all happy about there bein' a full shelf of Turkey and Giblets, knowin' that that was what we would be wantin'.  She reached down...   way down...  way down to the bottom shelf and brought out a couple.  She did that again and again once more.  Then she tried to reach some tins one last time but do you know what?  She couldn't reach 'em.  They were way, way back on the very bottom shelf.

Now truth be told, the peep has encountered this dilemma before.  Actually, she has encountered it many, many times.  At this point, Ol' Peepers usually gets down on her hands and knees and crawls around on the grocery store floor until she has everyone's attention with her lunacy and she can get herself into a position where she can reach the tins way at the back of that bottom shelf.  Okay, so I'm exaggeratin' a little.  But just a little.  She does get down on her hands and knees.  She just doesn't go crawlin' around all over the place once down there.

Once, when she was sittin' down on the grocery store floor, another lady was in the pet food isle. This was a lady whom my peep had never met before.  This stranger lady was absolutely shocked that any customer would have to get down on their hands and knees in order to buy somethin' at that store.  Apparently, other customers who don't even know my peep are more concerned about my peep's knees than the peeps runnin' the store.  Could you believe it?  But I digress...

Back to the lack of food.  The peep's explanation wasn't really explainin' why there were only two bags of Turkey and Giblets sittin' on my kitchen floor.  I mean, it's not like this crawlin' around on the grocery store floor experience is anything new.  It happens all the time.  It happens at least once a week.  Usually twice.  The peep knows what to do.  She knows that in order to get a good supply in of the Turkey and Giblets, she has to get down on the floor of the grocery store and reach way back to the back of that bottom shelf.  She has to reach all the way to the back.  Way, way back.  This is simply what must be done.  Why yesterday was any different from any other day had me baffled.

That's when the peep explained how because of all the rain and whatnot, the floors of the grocery store weren't as clean as they needed to be for her to crawl around on 'em. Apparently, even she has limits.  She'll crawl around on grocery store floors when they're clean but not when they're wet from the rain.  The fact that the wetness on the floor in front of the Turkey and Giblets was caused by the peep's very own boots seemed to have eluded her.  Any puddles by the Turkey and Giblets were of her own doin'!  I told her this and she simply ignored me.  Could you believe it?

If a peep won't crawl around on the grocery store floor so that her favourite kitty has his favourite food to eat, what good is that peep?  Why keep the peep in the first place?

Next time, I'm gonna go to that grocery store myself, I think.  I'm already down at the level of that bottom shelf so I won't have to get down on my knees.  Just bein' on my paws will work for me.  And as luck would have it, I'm on my paws all the time.  I mean...  I walk around on my paws on a daily basis 'cause you know...  I'm a cat.

So if you happen to be at a grocery store in the neighbourhood and see a handsome sterling silver - some say platinum - tabby cat walkin' around the pet food isle, haulin' out the tins of Turkey and Giblets for his peep to put into the cart, it's probably me.

Yeah...  next time, I'll go myself.  I think that would be best.  Fewer complaints from the peep that way.  And you know what they say.  They say, if you want somethin' done right, you've gotta do it yourself.  I'm gonna take that sayin' to heart.

Just hope I don't starve or somethin' between now and then. Hope I can hold out 'til the next grocery store trip and don't wither away into nothingness or somethin' like that.  It could happen.  I had better be careful.  Either that or I'll have to develop a fondness for veggies burgers.  Well, that's not gonna happen.  MOUSES!

the big cheese

The other night, I was feelin' a little peckish and said as much to the peep. "Go get something to eat," she suggested, so I trotted off into the kitchen lookin' for snacks.

There, I found a couple bowls of dry kibble.  Meah, not what I had in mind.  I sniffed around the bowls, thinkin' I might find a stray Treat Temptation or somethin' but I came up empty-pawed. Just as I was about to go back into the family room and tell Ol' Peepers I needed her assistance with the treat jar, I spotted a plate up on the island. Hmmm....  wonder what's up there, I thought to myself.  Moments later, I had my answer...  cheese.

You know, a lot of us cats are really into the cheese but not I.  There is at least one variety of food the peeps give us that contains cheese.  It's okay, I guess, but not my favourite. Then I thought to myself, the peeps eat all sorts of cheese and quite like it.  Perhaps I should give it another try. Turns out, cheese can be pretty tasty.

So after my snack, I figured I'd take a little nap but since it was gettin' pretty late, I just went to bed. Curled up on the floor in the family room, I drifted off to sleep, bein' serenaded by some news on the television while visions of sugar plums - I mean cheese - danced in my head.

When I awoke, the room was in total darkness.  The peeps had gone off to bed.  Mason was snoring.  Yes, snoring.  My sister, Mason, snores.  I could hear someone purring off in the distance.  Beatrice, I believe. None of that stuff was surprising but somethin' that was a little odd was the mouse sittin' up on his hind legs and starin' into my eyes.  MOUSES!

"Shhh!  You'll wake up the other cats," said the mouse.

I blinked.  Then I winked.  Then I blinked again.  I shook my head.  MOUSES!  We had a mouse in the house.  Unbelievable.

"Get over it," said the mouse, as if he knew exactly what I was thinking.  "Need your help.  Follow me."

So I followed the mouse out of the family room and into...  into...  Well, that route should have taken me into the kitchen but for some strange reason, it didn't.  Time and space had morphed or somethin' and I was suddenly in a completely unfamiliar room that I am sure had never existed in my house before that night.  A great hall of some kind, filled with row upon row of seats and in each seat, sat a mouse.  "MOUSES!" I cried.

"Mice," said a mouse.  "The plural of mouse is mice."

"And here was I, thinkin' it was snacks," said I to the mouse and said mouse nervously retreated behind some of his pals in the second row.

I looked directly at the first mouse who had requested my assistance and said, "So you want my help gettin' down to the bottom of this corruption at paw.  You're in need of my investigative skills, you say.  My enquiring mind.  Hmmm..."

"Your investigative skills are well-known.  You're a bit of a celebrity around these parts, Nerissa.  May I call you Nerissa?"

"Sure, why not?  You have a name?" I asked the mouse.  M1 was his answer and lookin' around, I had to wonder if the others were named M2, M3, M4 and so on.

"Er-hem..." and a little mouse in the first row spoke up gingerly.  "My name is M24, Sir.  I believe I can fill you in on the details.  This is the information the Royal Canadian Mouseland Police have collected so far," and he pointed to a stack of files, ten mice high. MOUSES!

I pawed through a few of the pages and oddly enough, after doin' so, knew the contents of each and every file.  "I will need to question this mouse you call The Big Cheese," I told the mice.

"He doesn't like to answer questions," piped up several mice in unison.

"Well you tell him that I, Nerissa the Cat, expect him to answer MINE."

At that very moment a large, rather pompous-looking mouse appeared in the room.  He slowly and deliberated walked over to an empty seat in the centre of the front row.  I sniffed the air as he walked past.  It smelled of cheese.

I narrowed my eyes and stared at this new mouse.  The mouse stared back at me with eyes of steely blue.  MOUSES! those eyes were unnerving.  I crouched low and wiggled my tail a little. That did the trick.  The mouse known as The Big Cheese sat down in his chair and fiddled with his tail nervously.  I eyed that tail.  Exceptionally long for a mouse, I thought to myself.  Little rat-like, in fact.  Hmmm...

I stood tall on all four paws, lookin' down at the mouse known as The Big Cheese.  I cleared my throat.  "My first question for you, Mr. Cheese, has nothing to do with the case at paw but I'm curious.  I'm curious as to why you are known as The Big Cheese when all the other mice have names that are...  well...  numbered."

"Because their days are numbered," was The Big Cheese's reply.

Jaws dropped and gasps were heard throughout the room.  I must admit, I let out a little gasp, myself.  Never in my nine lives had I heard such arrogance uttered from a mouse.  MOUSES!

"They're all disposable," continued The Big Cheese.  "If they work with me, they're safe but if not, they have to go to that big mousetrap in the sky."

"Work with you, Mr. Cheese?  Is that an admission that you have some sort of plan at paw?  A plan for the country's cheese supply?  Yes, that's right...  I, Nerissa the Cat, know all about the Great Canadian Cheese Conspiracy.  I know about the missing cheese.  I know about the alleged misuse of cheese.  I've read all the files."  I pounded the mouse with questions.  "Is this a plan which you have devised?  One of which you are in control?  One of which you, and only you, a mouse stinking of cheese, knows all the details?"

The Big Cheese's eyes darted back and forth like the eyes of a rat.  He was breaking.

"As I've said, I've examined all the files.  I've read all the reports.  Investigative mice have found evidence of a massive cover-up of misused cheese supplies from British Columbia to Newfoundland and back again.  There have been undeserving mice being allocated unfair portions of cheese, here, there and everywhere.  And every single mouse given extra cheese was working on a project known as Le Grand Fromage.  NOW JUST WHAT, MR. BIG CHEESE, DO YOU SUPPOSE IS THIS PROJECT, LE GRAND FROMAGE?"

The Big Cheese sank in his chair, melting like Mozzarella on a nip pizza.  Then he pulled himself together and cleared his throat.  "I do not know," he stated.  "I know nothing of this Grand Fromage project.  Others might," and his eyes darted furtively around the room, looking for someone else to blame.  "Nowhere in those files is there evidence of my guilt!"

"Of your guilt?" I repeated, quietly.  Your...  guilt, you say?  So you admit that you are guilty?"

"I ADMIT NOTHING!" he cried but before The Big Cheese could continue, the lights in the family room came on and Peep #1 walked over to me.

"What's going on in here?  she asked.  "Did I hear voices?  Come on Nissy," and she scooped me up in her arms.  "You come sleep with me tonight."

I squirmed and I wormed in her grasp, tryin' to get down and make my escape into the kitchen to find those mice. Then I realised that it all must have been a dream.  A cheese-induced dream caused by late-night cheese snackin' in conjunction with television news.  It was too bad the peep had awakened me when she had.  I was just gettin' to the good part of that dream. Darn it all.  MOUSES!

"Mice," I heard a little voice say, off in the distance.  "The plural of mouse is mice."

And with large eyes I cried, "MOUSES!"

deep freeze

An awful lot of North America has been stuck in a deep freeze and Nova Scotia is no exception.  Sure, we had one really mild day when it rained and some snow melted but twenty-four hours later, winter came back with a vengeance. Nothin' but snow and ice around here now.  Snow, ice and freezing temperatures.

At times like these, I worry about all the kitties livin' outside without homes. Having been born feral myself, I fully understand the dangers of being outside when the temperatures drop.  We cats may have fur coats but we are most definitely not impervious to the cold.

I was super lucky 'cause although born feral, I was born in mid-April and managed to get myself a home by the end of my first summer.  I know all about the cold but most of my knowledge has come from lookin' out at the snowy land that is Canada from the inside of a warm, comfy house.  Of course, I do go out in the snow now and then.  A cat like me has explorin' to do, you know.  I regularly venture outside to check out some stuff here and there in my yard but I always make sure I'm back inside before my tootsies get too chilly.

Once inside, after an outing in the cold temperatures, I do the heat transfer thing.  Ever do that?  It's really fun.  Immediately upon your return, go over to a peep and get them to pick you up.  Pick a peep with bare skin, visible.  Bare arms work best but the skin around the neckline will do in a pinch. Then place your cold paws on the peep's bare skin.  The heat from their skin transfers to your paws and warms them right up.  Now I'll warn you that usually the peep will complain about the cold of your paws cooling their skin down but just ignore those complaints.  I just tune 'em out.  Easily enough done.

Anywho...  all this cold weather got me thinkin' about two little kitties I once knew long, long ago.  Their names were Alexander and Josephine.  I don't talk about them much 'cause my Peep #1 gets super sad when she thinks about them and how we, as a family, failed little Alex and Josie.

Alex and Josie were my younger brother and sister.  Alex was a tuxedo like my mama and Josie, inherited some orange from my dad and was therefore, a calico.  They were two cuties, for sure.

It was a very confusing time, the summer of 2003.  Peep #1 was doin' her best to get my sibs and me inside, along with my mama and dad.  I won't go into a lot of details 'cause I just know you're all gonna want to read about my rescue when it's published in the rescue anthology to which I alluded in an earlier post.  Bottom line is, before the peeps could get their act together and catch my mama and dad, mama got preggers again.  The result was that little Alex and Josie were born in early September, about four-and-a-half months after me.  Unfortunately, they were born outside.

Shortly after Alex and Josie were born, my mama was ready to come in but her babies were too scared.  Peep #1 had a really tough time gaining their trust.  It took her months and some of those months were super cold.

The winter of 2003 and 2004 was a cold one.  It started early and left, late.  There were sub-zero temperatures for long periods of time.  Very sub-zero temperatures.  I, of course, was enjoyin' the comforts of a home by then but my younger siblings were still outside.

The peeps built a little shelter on the veranda.  Actually, they built two.  The first one was a big wooden box they hired a friend to build. That didn't work out so well.  All cats avoided it like the plague.  Then Peep #1 got to work and bought a big, thick sheet of Styrofoam.  She laid that down in the inside corner of the veranda and put cement blocks along the edge for weight and to make somethin' similar to walls.  Then she spread thick blankets over the Styrofoam and the cement blocks.  It worked like a charm.  Alex and Josie loved it. Every night, they would come and cosy up in their winter bedding.

Sometimes snow would drift in and the blankets would have to be changed, quite often.  Ol' Peepers changed the bedding on a daily basis to keep it clean and dry.

That winter was so cold, food and cat milk would freeze and even though the shelter had blankies, it was chilly.

So the peep developed a system involving multiple food dishes, hot water bottles, towels and an alarm clock.  Every night for weeks, the peep would use the alarm clock to wake up every ninety minutes.  Every ninety minutes, she would get up out of bed, warm up some cat milk on the stove and put that out on the veranda for Alex and Josie along with a fresh plate of soft food.  She would also fill up two hot water bottles, wrap them in towels and place them in the the home-made shelter. She would then bring inside the older dishes and hot water bottles, allowin' them to thaw out before bein' used at the next changin', an hour and a half later.

The peep found that Alex and Josie would allow her to bring out the food and hot water bottles and get quite close to them as long as she never tried to touch 'em.  She was way too scary for them to allow that.  And I can imagine that the peep was scary.  Sleep deprived, cold and cranky, Ol' Peepers must have seemed like a monster to my little brother and sister.

Eventually, the peep did gain the kittens' trust and Alexander was the first to venture inside.  He came in the front door, immediately hiding in the front closet.  Now I happen to know that that closet has a radiator in it.  Alex must have discovered this because he came out of the closet while the peeps were watchin' and they saw a look in his eyes that they just knew was the look of his realisation of how warm and cosy that closet was and then he turned and headed right back in.  He was an indoor kitty after that night.

Josephine took a little while longer to come in so there were a few more nights of changing hot water bottles and warming up bowls of cat milk in store for Ol' Peepers.  Once in, she never really trusted the peeps.  She was always nervous...  always scared.

Now this might sound like a happy ending for my younger siblings and really, it should have been but things don't always work out as planned.  The peeps were gettin' ready to take Alexander and Josephine in to be neutered and spayed.  They had wanted Josie to be a little more trusting of them before doin' so but it was early March and they could wait no longer.  They couldn't risk Josie gettin' preggers.  But days before their planned operations, Josie became ill.  Shortly after that, so did Alex. They weren't with us for much longer after that.

You see, livin' outside, in the cold, takes a toll on kitties.  Alex and Josie had both been exposed to Feline Leukaemia from a cat livin' two streets over, when quite young.  The peep found out about this cat a few months later but that's another story for another blog post.  Alexander's and Josephine's immune systems weren't strong and then bein' exposed to all those cold nights...  it was too much for their little bodies to handle.

I'm very thankful that when Alex and Josie left for Heaven, they were in a warm home, surrounded by love and comfort.  That's important, I think.  I'm sad though that they weren't with us for longer.

The peep says she failed Josie and Alex.  Had she managed to trap my mama before they were born, they would have been born inside a warm house and would still be with us.  But she was still tryin' to get me in, at that time and was so close to doin' so.  That's why...  that's why she didn't use a trap.  I wish she had used one.  So does she.  In hindsight, one often has perfect vision but by then it may be too late.

But if there is one thing to be learned from this experience, it is that kitties livin' outside in this terrible cold need our help. If you think there are kitties without homes livin' near you, please build a shelter for them.  Put out food on a regular basis, too, 'cause I assure you that mousin' is terribly difficult at this time of year.  The mice are all inside!  And most importantly, if you can get the outdoor kitties in, please make that a priority.

Please...  Please help any kitties livin' outside in this cold.  Lives are at stake.  BEAUTIFUL, PRECIOUS LIVES.

uhhh... yeah... 'bout that

Uhhh...  yeah...  'bout that.  I know. Ummm...  Okay, so it's not New Year's Day anymore.  So it's the fifth of January already.  Almost a week after one is supposed to have made all one's New Year's resolutions and whatnot. So sue me!  Actually, please don't.  I don't wanna be sued.

But when you think about it, if a cat ages approximately five years for every one peep year, then one cat year must average - after calculating the equalisation ratio and other complicated mathematical formulae involved in kitty physics, of course - anywho...  after calculatin' all that complicated math and grading it on the curvature of the tale, we can conclude that one cat year must be equal to about five peep years.  That would mean that one cat day should be the equivalent of five peep days and since today is the fifth day after New Year's Day, I do believe that I'M RIGHT ON SCHEDULE.  I think.

So as you've probably guessed, I have some New Year's resolutions.  About a paw full of 'em, or two.

My first resolution is to try to write shorter blog posts.  You know, so that I'm not writin' the next great American novel every time I publish a blog post although, since I'm a Canadian kitty, I'd have to be writin' the next great Canadian novel but no one ever says that.  Oh sure, there are great Canadian novels out there.  I'm sure there are lots of 'em.  It's just that no one ever says that phrase usin' Canadian.  Weird, huh?

Turns out that I'm probably not gonna keep that first resolution.  What can I say?  I have stuff I need to write.  Sometimes I need to use a lot of words in order to write it.

Okay, resolution number two is a pretty easy one.  I have resolved to watch more Canadian news.  Especially all that political stuff.  It turns out that Canadian politics, these days, provide a wealth of fodder for blog topics when you're a bloggin' kitty such as myself.  That's a resolution I can keep, for sure.

On the other paw, maybe I should run for office myself. Stan ran for Mayor.  Earl Grey ran for Premier.  Nerissa the Cat for Prime Minister...  Oohhhh....  I like how that sounds!

Resolution number three is more for the peeps than for me. Actually, it's really a resolution for just the first peep.  I am resolvin' that the prime peep is gonna help me visit more of my pals in the blogosphere, more often.  I am so behind.  I am so far behind that I feel like a cat chasin' his tail. I'm racing 'round and 'round in circles, never catchin' that elusive tail.  Not even if I tie a sprig of nip on my tail can I catch it.  I can, however, catch my sisters' tails if I tie sprigs of nip on them.  Not that I've tried or anythin'...  No, I've never done anything like that in reality.  That would be wrong. On the other paw...  No, it would be wrong.  Most definitely wrong. MOUSES!

My fourth resolution is to have that ol' peep of mine grow the nip.  I had to give her a failing grade on the nip-growin' front last year so she has lots of room for improvement.  Lots and lots of room for improvement, if you know what I mean.

As I'm plannin' on making a major investment in nip futures in 2014, I really think the peep should be growin' some of the stuff for me.  She has a packet of seed.  Now she just needs to figure out what to do with it.

Box enjoyment.  Yup, that's resolution number five.  I resolve to have the peeps keep me supplied with boxes and I intend to enjoy those boxes to the fullest.  Playin', nappin', scratchin', nippin'...  All worthwhile box activities.  Gotta do that stuff more often.

My sixth resolution it to keep Peep #1 apprised of my writing endeavours.  Did you know that my rescue story is gonna be published?  It sure is.  The story of my rescue is gonna be published in a real book that you can hold in your paws and everything.  Oh sure, Ol' Peepers considers herself to be a writer but I have my doubts.  Don't see any real books on the shelves with her name on 'em.  Gotta keep remindin' the peep of this.  Perhaps it will provide her with the necessary motivation to improve her writing skills.  Miracles have happened, you know.  This could be the next one.

And last but not least, my resolution number seven is to do a better job of keepin' up with my bling. In case you hadn't heard, I love the bling!  Bein' blingafied is the best but sometimes, I don't get around to postin' and sharin' the bling as often as I should.  For example, I have recently been awarded three more stars for my Blog of the Year 2013 Award - givin' me a complete set - and I'm only thankin' my pals for givin' me these stars, now.  MOUSES!

That's right...  Speedy from Speedy the Cheeky House Bunny gave me not one but two more stars. And my pal Tex from Texas, a Cat in Austin gave me one, too.  I already had three so these additional three make six and that's a full set!  Yoo-hoo!  YOO-HOO!!!

In acceptin' stars for the Blog of the Year 2013 Award, there are some rules and regulations which may be found at the page belongin' to the award's creators, The Thought Palette.

And I'd like to pass along some more stars to some of my pals who write amazin' blogs.  Of course, ALL my pals write amazin' blogs but I can't pass along stars to everyone.  Or can I?  Nope, I don't think that's allowed.  So I'm gonna pass along stars to...  let's see...

The winners are...

- Herman at It's a Wonderpurr Life
- Sammy at onespoiledcat
- Spitty at Spitty Speaks
- Texas at Texas, a Cat in New York
- Timmy at Tomcat Commentary by Tim
- Nellie at The Cat from Hell
- Savvy at Savannah's Paw Tracks
- the Staff at DashKitten
- Loupi & Zorro at Swiss Cat Blog
- Kizzie at Kizzie Cat

I know I've given most, if not all, of these cats stars before but I also know how desperate we bling-lovin' cats are to complete our sets of stars.  Now, if I've missed anyone out, just grab a star for yourself, okay?  I really wanted to give one to EVERYBODY but... well...  Well just don't tell the peeps at The Thought Palette, okay?  They might not understand how many wonderful and amazin' blogs out there are written by my pals and how each and every one of my pals is deservin' of havin' all six of their stars. MOUSES!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Can you believe it?  It's 2014 already. Another year has arrived.

We said goodbye to 2013 last night around midnight.  Thankfully, last year did not go out with a bang.  The peep says that's a good thing 'cause when things go bang at our house it's usually 'cause a cat knocked somethin' down and whatever that somethin' was went bang when it broke into teeny tiny pieces.  Hmmm...  Perhaps we cats have already broken all the breakables? Could be.  Or maybe we were just bein' especially good last night.  Time will tell, I suppose.  All depends on whether the peeps find that... uh...  um...  never mind.

Anywho...  so much stuff happened last year.  So much stuff happened that I had a hard time fittin' it all in.  Due to circumstances beyond my control, such as what I refer to as incompetent peepage, I accidentally neglected to do some stuff I should have done way back in 2013.  MOUSES!

This incompetent peepage is the main reason I have 2013 awards leaking out into 2014.  That and somethin' to do with the time lines being affected by the use of Seville's refurbished whisks, I do believe.  Yeah, it's true.  I still need to accept a few awards that I was awarded last year.  Again I say, MOUSES!

So without further ado, let's get on with the show.

Have you heard of the Cracking Crispmouse Bloggywog Award?  It's a beaut, for sure.  My pal Pillster who writes the amazin' blog, Catnip Capers gave me this gorgeous award just before Christmas.  The Cracking Crispmouse Bloggywog Award is Pillster's very own creation and what a magnificent creation it is.  I'm so honoured to have been one of the very first recipients.  Thank you Pillster!  I love the award very much.

In acceptin' the Cracking Crispmouse Bloggywog Award, there are some rules.  But the rules are easy peasy and are as follows...

1.  To be eligible for the award, a bloggywog must spread one or more of joy, peace, hope and love.
2.  Anyone receiving the award may, if they wish, pass it on to any other anipal bloggywogger whose
     bloggywog satisfies rule number one.
3.  There is no minimum or maximum limit on the number of furiends you can pass the award onto:
     you can be as Scroogy or as generous as you like.

See?  Easy peasy, for sure.

I would very much like to pass this award on to pretty much everyone but I know I should leave some blogs for the next batch of recipients to pass it along to so, as difficult as it was, I narrowed it down to seven.

- Nellie at The Cat from Hell
- Sammy at onespoiledcat
- Savvy at Savannah's Paw Tracks
- the staff at DashKitten
- Tex at Texas, a Cat in Austin
- Loupi & Zorro at Swiss Cat Blog
- Kizzie at Kizzie Cat

And now for award number two!  This next award celebrates that which is the box.  Gosh, I love boxes.  Turns out that I love this incredible award celebratin' the box, too.  It's called the Share the Love, Share the Box Award.  What a great idea.


My pal Tex, author of the world-famous blog, Texas, a Cat in Austin created this gorgeous award and handed it out for the very first time on December 26th...  Boxing Day.  Pretty appropriate, huh?  Tex, thank you so very much for honouring me as one of the very first recipients.  It's a super award and I absolutely love it.  Thank you!

Anywho...  in acceptin' the Share the Love, Share the Box Award, there are some rules but again, super easy rules, for sure.

1.  Thank the blogger who awarded you the award.
2.  Post the award on your blog.
3.  Share the award with five bloggers and let them know they have received it.
4.  Go find a box and have fun with it.  Rule number four is optional but highly recommended.

And now to announce the five winners of this spectacular award.  Drum roll, please...

- Loupi & Zorro at Swiss Cat Blog
- Kizzie at Kizzie Cat
- Pillster at Catnip Capers
- Herman at It's a Wonderpurr Life
- Spitty at Spitty Speaks

Please note that I, Nerissa the Cat, took rule number four to heart and immediately found a box and had some fun with it. In fact, I spent most of Boxing Day morning nappin' in that box.  It was an excellent nappin' box, for sure.

Finally, I have one more award to accept.  My great pal Nellie over at Cat from Hell awarded me with my third star for the Blog of the Year 2013 Award.  I was so pleased to receive this.  Three stars down... three to go.  Can I do it? Don't know.  2013 is long gone but I'm pretty sure we can continue to award stars if need be.  Hint, hint...

In acceptin' the Blog of the Year 2013 Award, there are rules and those rules may be found over on the page belonging to the creator of this award, The Thought Palette.  You'll wanna check that out, for sure.

Clearly, there are a whole whack of blogs out there deserving of more stars but again, sadly, I must restrain myself and not give it to everybody 'cause we'd all be here from now until 2015 if I did. So what I'm gonna do is award the Blog of the Year 2013 Award to everyone to whom I gave either one or both of the above awards.  And the winners are...

- Nellie at The Cat from Hell
- Sammy at onespoiledcat
- Savvy at Savannah's Paw Tracks
- the staff at DashKitten
- Tex at Texas, a Cat in Austin
- Loupi & Zorro at Swiss Cat Blog
- Kizzie at Kizzie Cat
- Pillster at Catnip Capers
- Herman at It's a Wonderpurr Life
- Spitty at Spitty Speaks

Whew!  What a lot of awards.  CONGRATULATIONS everyone!  Just think, receiving awards today, on the very first day of the new year, bodes extremely well for receiving awards all year long.  Yoo-hoo!  YOO-HOO!!!

Again I say...  HAPPY NEW YEAR!  I wish all my pals a wonderful and glorious 2014.  May this coming year be our best year ever.