we were havin' a weirdwave

They do say that a favourite pastime of Canadians is talkin' about the weather and do you know what?  Peeps who say that just might be right!  Yup, I'm a Canadian kitty and I'm gonna be bloggin' about the weather...  AGAIN.

As you may recall, my brother Seville and I recently teleported to Ottawa and had a little chat with the peeps runnin' the Worldwide Weather Offices, Forecasting and Control, Canadian Division.  We discovered some interestin' stuff while there but truth be told, even after our visit, our weather was still pretty weird.

I don't know if there's such a thing as a weirdometer but if there is, last week's weird weather would have been registering super high on one.  Hmmm...  like a heatwave only instead of degrees of heat, it would measure degrees of weirdness.  We were havin' a weirdwave.

You know...  if there isn't such a thing as a weirdometer, I should invent one 'cause I bet there's a market for such a gadget.  Probably a really good market, too, but I digress.

Anywho...  it all began a week ago today.  Last Wednesday mornin', I awoke to find that school had been cancelled due to an overnight snowstorm.  To be honest, the cancellation of school didn't affect me in any way 'cause the schools that were cancelled were all schools for peeps and not cats.  The snow had stopped snowin' but there was white stuff, everywhere.  Guess the snowplough peeps needed to clear the roads and whatnot before lettin' the school buses out on 'em.

My driveway was pretty snowy, too.  I was tyin' on my new size zero snowshoes and gettin' ready to head out to trek across the driveway when our snowplough guy arrived.  MOUSES!  He ploughed most of the driveway, ruinin' all my best snowshoe trails, before disappearin' off down the road.  I was just about to toss off the snowshoes when I saw Peep #1 putting on her jacket and getting ready to go do some shovelling.  She had caterwauling practise that night and needed to shovel a path to the car.

So I supervised the peep while she shovelled a path from the backdoor to the car and then cleared all the snow off the top of the car and all around it, too.  While watching her work, I built a snowcat. FINALLY!  Yes, it was good packin' snow and excellent for building snowcats and whatnot.  The peep complained that it was kind of heavy for shovelling but I just ignored her, blissfully happy that I was finally gettin' to build my cat.

It was around four-thirty when Peep #1 and I headed back inside.  The peep had to have a shower before caterwaulin' and I needed some rest and relaxation after my strenuous snowcat building.  I prepared a bowl of hot nip cider and settled in on the couch, in the family room.

Two hours later, Ol' Peepers was puttin' her jacket on and gatherin' together her music for her caterwaulin' practise.  I watched her pull on her boots and grab the car keys before heading out.  While contemplating whether or not to have another bowl of nip cider, I was surprised to hear the peep coming back indoors.  I figured she must have forgotten somethin' and went back to my contemplation of the cider.

What happened next was completely unexpected.  The peep took off her boots and coat and returned her caterwaulin' paraphernalia to the piano.  Apparently, she wasn't going anywhere after all. You see...  when the peep drove to the end of the driveway, the car headlights shone through the darkness, illuminating a two foot high pile of snow blocking  her path.  She had been ploughed in. MOUSES!

And let me just add, the peep said "MOUSES!" quite a number of times that night, too.

I heard Peep #1 threatening to take a blowtorch to the snow at the end of my driveway which scared me for just a moment because the thought of my peep let loose with a blowtorch is a pretty scary thought but then I realised that the peep doesn't actually own a blowtorch so there was nothin' about which to worry.  It occurred to me that she might take a blow dryer to it or somethin' but then I realised that although the peep does have one of those, it appears to have been lost.  At least, it hasn't been used in years.  I kind of wish she would use it though.  Her hair has been lookin' rather wild, as of late, and perhaps a blow dryer could control it and bring back some law and order or somethin' to that head of hers.  MOUSES!

So that was Wednesday.  Thursday morning arrived and guess what...  another paw or so of snow had fallen overnight.  Once again, school was cancelled.  Once again, its cancellation didn't affect me so I really didn't care.

I watched the peep trudge through the snow, taking the garbage to the road 'cause every second Thursday is our garbage day and for the last six weeks, every second Thursday we have greeted the morning with a paw or two of freshly fallen snow.  In fact, ever since Sivvers and I teleported to Ottawa and fiddled with that equipment in the Worldwide Weather Offices, Forecasting and Control, Canadian Division...  Nah...  That couldn't have anything to do with it.  Could it?  MOUSES!

Anywho...  garbage was dealt with and paths were shovelled. Our snowplough guy arrived and a little somethin' was discovered about his ploughin'.  He's supposed to plough along our side of the road if he comes before the street plough so that the street plough doesn't plough us in.  Until that day, Peep #1 thought he had been doin' just that but on Thursday, Peep #2 watched snowplough guy and for some weird reason, snowplough guy was ploughing on the OTHER side of the road and bringin' all that extra snow over to us. This kind of explains the huge mountain of snow that has accumulated at the end of my driveway.  I'm not complainin' though 'cause I'm pretty sure I'll be able to ski on it as soon as my size zero downhill skies arrive in the mail.

Anywho...  like clockwork, right after our snowplough guy came, the street plough arrived and, once again, there was snow piled up at the end of the driveway.  Luckily, the weather was warming up and the snow was softenin'.  The peeps had to go out.  Peep #1 was driving and she just took a run at the pile of snow and ploughed right through it.  MOUSES!  Yup, that's just what I said as I watched her swerve this way and that but she made it through.  I believe one calls that determination.  Good thing, too, 'cause I was in need of some snacks.

Friday mornin' was uneventful.  On Friday night, however, it rained.  Yes, RAINED.  One might even say, poured.  And there was thunder and lightening, too.  The lightening was particularly bright because it lit up the sky and all that light was reflected off all the snow still on the ground and you'd swear it was the middle of the day for a second or two.  Very strange, indeed.

By Saturday morning, the sun was shining and there wasn't a cloud in the sky and it warmed up, a lot.  In fact, where there had been snow in some of the paths, all that was left was slush.  I tried to build another snowcat but let me tell you something about building snowcats with slush...  IT DOESN'T WORK!  Don't even bother tryin'.  You'll just get your paws all wet and icky.  That's what happened to me, anyway.

I guess that Saturday was a little taste of spring but really, it arrived too early and I suppose that's why it fled and is now hangin' out with that groundhog, in Shubenacadie, named Sam.  The cold has returned and any slush on the ground has frozen and although there's still a lot of snow around, it has a hard icy crust on it and is absolutely impossible to dig in or use for building snowcats.

My size zero downhill skis have not yet arrived but I'm hoping they'll get here soon before the peep attacks that mountain of snow at the end of the driveway with her hair dryer or somethin'.  In the meantime, I'm thinking of borrowing the spare tire from the trunk of the car and taking it for a spin on that mountain.  I hear that tubing on an icy surface is a lot of fun.  Wanna join me?  Afterwards, we can have share a bowl of hot nip cider and some snacks.  An excellent way to while away a winter afternoon, I should think.  Very excellent, indeed.

just say you're sorry, already

It has come to my attention that, apparently, we Canadians say we're sorry a lot.  Until recently, I was unaware of this.  I mean, I'm a Canadian kitty and I don't go around apologizin' to everyone all the time.  Oh sure, when I need to apologise, I do, 'cause that's the right thing to do but I don't go all crazy, apologizin' all willy nilly, all over the place to everyone and his dog.  That would be silly.  That would be stupendously silly.  MOUSES!

Just recently, the incredibly talented Patrick Chan apologised to Canada when he won the silver medal at the Olympics.  I don't think he needed to apologise at all.  I mean, HE WON A SILVER MEDAL!  That's a pretty impressive thing.  But I guess he had really hoped to win the gold and knew he had an excellent chance at winnin' the gold so when he won the silver, he apologised.  Maybe he didn't actually need to apologise but, for some reason, he felt that he needed to do so.  That apology came from his heart.  I could tell when I listened to it.  I'm sure of it.  Brought a tear to my eye, it did. What a Canadian hero he is.

But that got me to thinking.  Here was someone apologising who didn't actually need to apologise 'cause he had done nothing wrong when there are all sorts of other folks out there who have done things wrong and should be apologising but never do.  Peeps are a weird lot, I think.  Sometimes I can't tell if they're comin' or goin'.  Sometimes I wonder if they can tell, themselves.

The fact of the matter is, there are a heck of a lot of peeps who believe they should never say they're sorry.  Never, never, not ever.  They even tell other peeps, "Never say you're sorry."  MOUSES!

I have come to the conclusion that peeps who refuse to apologise fall into one of two groups.

Some of 'em think they should never apologise 'cause they believe they never do anything wrong so they have no need to apologise. That's crazy talk, that is.  Crazier than a squirrel makin' nut pies, kind of crazy.  Can anyone really believe they can go through their entire life never doin' anything wrong?  Never?  As a cat, I come pretty much as close to perfection as possible and even I have done things wrong.  For instance, there was that incident with the nip and... um... on second thought, never mind.  The details are not important. Bottom line is, I have apologised for things I may have done that I shouldn't have done in a moment of nipped-up nippiness. I have apologised and I'm proud to admit it.  MOUSES!

The other group of peeps, who never apologise, are the ones who believe that an apology is a sign of weakness.  These are the ones who go around sayin' that sayin', "Never say you're sorry."  These are the peeps who think that if they say they're sorry, they're admitting that they've done something wrong and that somehow that makes them less of a person. No...  that would make them human 'cause let's face it, humans screw up.  Every human does it. It's in their nature.  Nothin' to be ashamed of.  Just somethin' that happens.

But when you fess up to doin' something wrong, that doesn't make you weak.  On the contrary, it makes you strong.  Only the strongest and bravest peeps are capable of makin' an apology. Running away and hiding from an apology you need to make... that's being weak.  That's being a coward. Cowards run from things they should do.  Cowards run away from apologies they should make.  I'm certain of this.  There is nothin' shameful about makin' an apology when an apology is due.  Nothin' shameful at all.

Peeps have just gotta remember that we all make mistakes.  We all, every now and then, do somethin' we shouldn't do.  We need to face up to those mistakes and own them.  Making a mistake is normal.  Admitting to said mistake is heroic.  It's easy to make a mistake - and we all do it - but it's really hard to face the person affected by the mistake and tell them that you're sorry that you did what you did.  It's hard to tell the peeps most hurt by your actions that you're sorry.  It's really hard.  That's why, only the bravest and most heroic peeps out there are capable of making an apology.  In fact, I would go so far as to say that the bravest three words anyone can ever say are, "I am sorry."  MOUSES!

We can't run away and hide from our mistakes 'cause until we apologise for 'em, our mistakes will follow us like mouse on a cheese cracker.  You see, the peeps out there to whom you should be apologising?  They know you should be apologising to them and they will remember.  They will always remember.  It's not that they're tryin' to be mean, holding your mistakes against you.  It's because your mistakes have hurt them and it's hard to forget bein' hurt. That's why you owe them the apology.  Until you say, "I'm sorry," they'll always remember the hurt.  Apologise and both sides are far more likely to get over it and move on.

Do some peeps believe that if they go through their entire life never apologising for anything that everyone else will believe that they've never ever done anything wrong?  Probably.  Yeah, probably 'cause some peeps can be really...  ummm...  well...  let's just say that every box of tacks contains one or two tacks that aren't overly sharp.

A word to the wise...  and I say this from my own personal experience from when havin' to apologise to a couple of cats livin' in my house with me.  When makin' an apology, do make sure that the apology is sincere.  An insincere apology is just as bad a non-existent apology.  Maybe even worse. It's like you're mockin' the person to whom you owe the apology.  That's not good.  You've already hurt them once.  Mocking them with an insincere apology would be hurting them a second time. That's just wrong.  So very, very wrong.  I realise that now.

Also, try not to make too many excuses.  Try not to try to explain why you did whatever it was that you did.  Explanations are seen as excuses 'cause usually they are.  It's like you're giving the wronged person reasons for what you did.  Like you're telling 'em you had to do whatever you did and are now tryin' to mitigate your actions.  You've gotta own what you did and just say you're sorry. Anything else makes the apology less of an apology, for sure.

Never blame the nip.  I've been there, I've done that and uh...  well...  it's not important now.  Just don't try to explain.

No one likes having to apologise.  No one enjoys it.  No one gets their thrills by apologising.  Not even us Canadian kitties.  Apologising is hard work.  Super hard.  Super heroic.  We apologise when needed because we have to do it 'cause it's the right thing to do.

So what do you do if you're just not brave enough to apologise?  Well...  Hmmm....

I think that what it all comes down to is this.  If you really don't like sayin' the words, "I am sorry," you should stop doin' stuff for which you need to say, I'm sorry.  It's a thought.  Don't you think?

I could tell by the smell!

So the other day, somethin' happened.

Ol' Peepers was headin' out in the car. I think she was goin' to the grocery store or somethin'.  Probably to buy me some treats 'cause...  you know...  I've been such a very good kitty as of late.

Anywho...  as she was backin' up the car, she spotted something in the rear-view mirror.  It was a big something.  A way bigger than a cat something. Besides, she knew that all of us kitties were accounted for 'cause she always checks on such things before starting up the car, you see.  What she saw was a black and white something.  Kind of like a tuxedo cat only bigger.  Much bigger.

Whatever the something was, it was no longer in her line of sight so she backed up a bit and turned around in the turnin' around spot of the driveway which has been gettin' smaller and smaller, with each snowstorm of the season but I digress.  That was about when the peep's curiosity got the best of her - 'cause she's part cat, you see, and cats are naturally curious - and she got out of the car to investigate.  I think she kind of knew what it was she had seen but wanted to verify the facts. Unfortunately, there was nothin' to see.

So she got back in the car and pulled forward to the end of the driveway.  She looked this way and that way but the big black and white somethin' that looked a little like a tuxedo cat but was way too big to be any kind of cat was nowhere to be seen.  She pulled onto the road, turning right and then at the stop sign, she turned right again and that's when she saw it.  That's when she saw the big black and white somethin' or other walkin' alongside a man.  She recognised them immediately.

Ol' Peepers drove along the road, slowly, waitin' to see what she thought she would see.  Sure enough, the man and the big black and white somethin' or other turned into a driveway exactly where she expected them to turn.  All at once, she knew what had happened.  The mystery had been solved.

It turned out that the man is a neighbour of sorts.  Not a next door kind of neighbour but rather, a neighbour from a few houses away.  And the big black and white somethin' or other that looked like a tuxedo cat but was way too big to actually be a cat?  Well, that was their dog.  The peep knew she sort of recognised that black and white furry ruffian.  He has been in my garden before.  Never invited, mind you, but definitely has been spotted on an occasion or two. MOUSES!

All the way to the grocery store, the peep thought about what she had seen.  "Where had that dog been?" she asked herself.  Well the answer was simple, really.  The dog had not been in my backyard.  Had he or she - we don't actually know which - been in the backyard, Ol' Peepers would have seen him or her when exiting the house through the backdoor.  Had the dog been in the driveway as the peep approached the car, she would have seen the dog then.  Clearly, the dog must have come along the path that joins the front door and veranda to the driveway.  Just a matter of lookin' at all the facts and makin' some deductions, really. Elementary, my dear readers...  elementary.

The mystery was solved.  Now don't get me wrong, the peep wasn't thrilled that the dog had been in my yard in the first place.  On the contrary, she was far from bein' thrilled.  Annoyed would be more like it but at least the mystery had been solved.

Now fast forward to later that day.

That evenin', Peep #2 informed my first peep of a little somethin' found on the veranda that afternoon.  Accordin' to the second peep, one of us cats must have pooped on the veranda.  What?  NEVER! We cats are all well potty trained.  Well...  litter box trained, if you know what I mean.  Actually, a few of us do like usin' the great outdoors but we ALWAYS bury the evidence and would never ever consider just squattin' out on the veranda and doin' our business there.  We're all exceptionally civilised cats, you see.

Now I will admit, a couple of us have been fooled by the snow factor. You see, if you do your business in the snow and cover it up with more snow, when the snow melts...  well...  the evidence is revealed. But that was not the case here.

Peep #1 checked and, sure enough, there were two big dollops of somethin' somewhat unmentionable on the veranda.  They were in a spot where there was no snow and therefore, could never have, at any time, been covered with the white stuff.  Also, they appeared to be fresh. MOUSES!

I grabbed my long coat, hat and pipe - just kiddin', I don't smoke so I don't own a pipe - and headed outdoors to investigate further.  Yup, yup...  uh-huh, uh-huh...  Fresh.  Big.  Too big for a cat.  More like...  More like dog sized, I deduced.  I sniffed the air and knew at once.  I knew at once that the two dollops had, in fact, been left by a dog.  How could I tell?  Why, I could tell by the smell! "MOUSES!" I cried.  "A dog has done his business on my veranda!"

And my Peep #1 knew at once exactly who that dog had been.  Clearly, it was the dog she had spotted when leavin' for the grocery store, earlier that day.  What are the odds that in the interim, a second dog had been there as well?  Those would be pretty high odds, indeed.  

Of course, our evidence is merely circumstantial.  That's why I'm tryin' to convince the peep to send the evidence off to a DNA lab to have it tested.  DNA testing will prove, once and for all, exactly who deposited the you-know-what on my doorstep.  I've just gotta convince the peep to package it up and send it off to the lab.  I'd take the stuff myself but it's dirty and I don't wanna mess up my teleportation device. Evidence of that sort can be kind of stinky, if you know what I mean.  Kind of icky.  Yup, best to leave dealin' with stuff like that to the peeps.

a giraffe named Marius

On the ninth day of February, in the year two thousand and fourteen, an eighteen-month-old baby giraffe named Marius was murdered.  The world was forever changed.  It will never again be the same.

Little Marius was, by all accounts, a happy and healthy, go-lucky little guy. He even had a favourite snack.  I read in a CNN report that Marius had a particular fondness for rye bread.*  In fact, it was as young Marius was leaning down to snack on some rye bread, that a vet from the Copenhagen Zoo shot him in the head
                                                                                       with a bolt gun.

What followed next was a circus, allowing young children to watch while Marius' body was butchered and fed to lions but that is not what my blog post is about.  My blog post is not about what should or should not have happened to baby Marius' body after death.  Or about who should or should not have been allowed to watch.  Those conversations are designed to muddy the waters, making it impossible for peeps out there to see the true travesty at paw...  THE NEEDLESS DEATH OF BABY MARIUS.

Marius was happy and healthy but genetically, he was unwanted.  Some have said he was inbred but I've been scouring the Internet and that does not appear to be true.  Marius was killed in order to supposedly prevent inbreeding.  In fact, Bengt Holst - the Scientific Director of the Copenhagen Zoo - was quoted as saying that Marius' fate was sealed by a "duty to avoid inbreeding."*  Avoid.  He used the word, avoid.  That clearly means that Marius himself was not inbred.  It would be the next generation where inbreeding might occur if Marius was allowed to father children.  He could have been sterilised.  That would have avoided inbreeding in future generations but the peeps running the Copenhagen Zoo did not want to do that.  Instead, they chose to kill him as, according to Holst, sterilising Marius would mean that he would "take up space for more genetically valuable giraffes." *

Marius could also have been moved to another facility.  Offers by other zoos had been made.  Those offers were ignored.  So-called reasons were given but what struck me was this.  Bengt Holst himself told the BBC that "space at institutions such as the Yorkshire Wildlife Park should be reserved for genetically more important giraffes."**  Well the peeps running the Yorkshire Wildlife Park couldn't have agreed with Holst for had they agreed, they would never have made the offer to take Marius. Why does this Holst guy think he knows more than everyone else?  Why does he think he knows best?  Who appointed him God?  Does he consider himself to be genetically superior to all the other peeps out there?  Is that why he thinks he knows best?

So because Marius' genetics were considered pretty much useless for breeding, the decision was made for Marius to be killed.  Killed.  MURDERED.

The word euthanized has been tossed about.  The Copenhagen Zoo claims that Marius was euthanized.  Was he?  I did some checkin'.  I checked the numerous dictionaries residing here in my office and several on-line ones, too.  In every single instance, euthanasia is defined as basically, a painless method of death for an individual that will prevent future pain to that same individual.  In other words, when a patient is really sick and suffering and has no hope for recovery, that is when killing them becomes euthanasia.  Marius wasn't sick.  Marius wasn't in pain.  Marius didn't have to recover from anything.  Marius wasn't euthanized.  MARIUS WAS MURDERED.

According to media, Marius' fate was not his and his alone.  The Copenhagen Zoo destroys twenty to thirty animals every year.**  They might be bears or maybe zebras or even tigers.  What they all have in common is that they are deemed, by zoo officials, to be surplus.  It is my opinion that at the Copenhagen Zoo, surplus equates to a death sentence.

Officials from the Copenhagen Zoo claim that the decision to end Marius' life was made with the approval of the EAZA...  the European Association of Zoos and Aquaria.  I have no reason to doubt this but if true, it leads only to more questions.  Question number one in my mind is, is the killing of surplus animals commonplace at ALL the over three hundred member institutions of the EAZA?  If a baby is deemed to have inferior genetics or if his or her genes are too similar to others of the same species, is that reason to kill said baby?

It appears to me that the murder of Marius has unearthed a dirty little secret in the zoo community.

Zookeepers may have long been practising this sort of genetic extermination for some kind of supposed betterment of species but I'm pretty sure that the peeps out there who visit the zoos didn't know about it.  I'm also pretty sure that many of them are disgusted with the zoos now that they do know.  Member institutions of the EAZA might wanna change their practises if they want peeps to continue payin' to visit their zoos.

YOU CAN'T HAVE IT BOTH WAYS!  You can't eat your cake and have it, too.  Everybody knows that.

There is a relationship between the animals at the zoo and the people who visit them.  There is a bond.  This bond is encouraged.  It has to be because so many people who visit zoos, want to fall in love with those animals.  They don't just want to see them.  They want to love and adore them.  And it is this bond that develops between the animals and spectators that keeps the spectators coming back.  No bond, no peeps.  No peeps, no tickets sold.  No tickets sold, no paycheck.  Get the picture?

When the peeps running the Copenhagen Zoo killed Marius, they killed a friend to all who had anticipated his birth.  They killed a friend to all who had watched him being cared for by his loving mother.  They killed a friend to all who had such high hopes that he would live out his twenty plus years at that, or another, zoo.

Like I said, YOU CAN'T HAVE IT BOTH WAYS!

My Peep #1 has been sickened over the death of Baby Marius.  She says that every time she sees a picture of those big trusting eyes, her own eyes swell with tears.  She realises that Marius must have trusted his keepers.  Must have been so happy when one of them treated him to his favourite snack.  Just like I'm happy when the peep gives me my favourite treats.  Then she thinks about how Marius was happily munching away on his favourite treat, and enjoying it immensely, when out of nowhere he was shot in the head.  When he was killed.  When Baby Marius was murdered.  My peep's stomach churns and she feels sick, thinking of this.

My peep's reaction to Marius' death is a normal reaction.  She has a heart and a soul and the ability to feel empathy.  She is a human being.  That's why she finds what Bengt Holst condoned, so disgusting and why what the Copenhagen Zoo allowed, repulses her so.

Peep #1 encouraged me to write this blog post for what happened to Baby Marius must never happen again.  No more babies can die in the name of genetics and breeding programs.

Within the last day, CNN has reported that Jyllands Park, also in Denmark, will not be killing a possibly surplus giraffe, also named Marius.***  Jyllands Park now states that the possibility of killing their Marius was based simply on a hypothetical scenario however, a zookeeper at Jyllands Park was quoted as sayin' that they "are completely behind Copenhagen and would have done the same" thing.****  This, just after stating that they would "of course" euthanize their Marius if they had to.

THE KILLING MUST STOP.

IT MUST STOP RIGHT HERE AND RIGHT NOW.

IT SIMPLY MUST

Referenced sources,
* by  Lars Erikson & Maev Kennedy, The Guardian

** BBC NEWS Europe

*** by Laura Smith-Spark, CNN
**** by Lars Erikson, The Guardian

love your kitties

Love your kitties for they're worth their weight in gold.  Yes, even the two tonne tessie marmalade brother ones.  It's a lot of weight.  It's a lot of gold!  But still, please...  love your kitties for they're worth it, for sure.

So Valentine's Day is comin' up. Everyone out there know about that? The day when peeps give one another flowers and candy and pretty sparkly bling-like things.  It's also the day when peeps give their kitties nip-filled toys, nip plants and extra treats and whatnot. Everybody out there know about that?

I read somewhere 'bout how this Valentine's Day was named 'cause of some Saint named Valentine or Valentinus or somethin' or other.  Kind of sounded like there might be more than one dude out there with the same or similar name.  And I found mention that some of this Saint's stuff was kept for a while at the catacombs of San Valentino in Rome.  Catacombs...  CATacombs.  Clearly, St. Valentine's Day should be more cat based than it is.  There really should be more nip involvement, if you know what I mean.

Anywho...  nowadays Valentine's Day is all about love.  Everywhere you look there are hearts and cupids and all sorts of things symbolising love.  That's why, on St. Valentine's Day of all days, you should be lovin' your kitties up.

Personally, I've devised a schedule for my peeps for February 14th.  We're gonna start with a breakfast including extra Fancy Feast 'cause you know...  I do love my Fancy Feast.

After breakkies, we're gonna have some play time.  We cats got a lot of toys at Christmas, some of which we've barely touched.  Time to try out the new Cat Dancers, for sure.  I have noted on my schedule that special attention should be paid to any toys that include cat - peep interaction like wand toys, dancers and teasers.  I've scheduled Peep #1 for an hour of actually playin' with me and not just tossin' me a bag full of nip.

But don't you worry, there will be nip.  I suspect that after an hour of chasin' a mouse on a string, I'm gonna be pretty worn out.  Nothin' like a little nap with my head gently restin' on a nippafied biff bag. I've allotted two, half hour slots for just such an activity.

While I'm nappin', the peeps can wrap my prezzies.  I'm expecting some prezzies.  I'm hopin' for some prezzies.  Maybe a new nip toy?  Perhaps a nip plant?  Oohhh...  maybe some shares in a nip farm, complete with samples of the nip, of course.

That's the mornin' taken care of and, I suspect, the afternoon will be pretty much the same.  All in all, Valentine's Day is shapin' up quite nicely.  I'm lookin' forward to it, for sure.

Now you're probably all wonderin' what I'm gonna give the peeps for Valentine's Day.  Got that covered.

As I mentioned earlier, Valentine's Day is all about love.  That makes it all about hearts and that, my friends, makes Valentine's Day all about purrs. PURRS!  Yes, purrs.

Did you know that a cat's purr can heal a human heart?  It's true!  I read all about it on the Internet. Well actually, I was simply confirmin' what I already knew.  I've read about it before in magazines and whatnot and, quite honestly, this is one of the things we cats are born knowin'.  It's a fact.

The purrs of a cat are known to be medically therapeutic.  Purrs vibrate in the range of 20 to 140 Hz which is known to benefit cats and peeps, medically.

Purrin' cats can heal both bone and soft tissue.  In fact, there's even an old veterinary adage that says, "If you put a cat and a bunch of broken bones in the same room, the bones will heal."  I didn't make that up.  No sirree...   found it on the Internet on several sites.  Apparently, doctors have been sayin' this for quite some time.

But what about the heart?  After all, it is Valentine's Day we're talkin' about here.  Can a cat's purr really heal a peep's heart?  You bet.  The purrin' of a cat has been known to lower blood pressure and stress.  Purrs can also help heal infections and swelling.  All of these things, I think, can affect the human heart.  In fact, there was even a study somewhere that found that peeps livin' with cats are forty percent less likely to have a heart attack.  MOUSES!  We cats are like medical geniuses with our purrs.  Hope you all knew about that.

Then, of course, there's the fact that we cats simply fill our peeps' hearts with love.  Love that bursts at the seams.  You cats out there have all witnessed this, I am sure.  Your peep takes a look at you nappin' or playin' or just...  you know...  breathin'...  and the next thing you hear are the oohs and ahhs 'cause we're just so irresistibly cute and adorable and, quite simply, we take our peeps' breath away.  We're that cute.  Yes indeedy, we are.

Anywho...  that's what I'm plannin' on givin' the peeps for St. Valentine's Day.  I'm gonna purr for 'em. I'm gonna purr and purr and purr and then, after all that purrin', I'm gonna purr some more.

My brother Seville also has a gift for the peeps.  He's gonna revise his role as poet and recite that ol' poem he wrote for the peep a couple of years ago after his first bout with the crystals. Remember that poem Sivvers wrote? No?  Oh.  Well...  it was called Easy Peasy and went somethin' like this...

     The more I drink,
     the more I pee.
     The more I pee,
     the easier it be.
     Easy peasy.
     That's the key!

And then, if I remember correctly, he peed on the peep.  Yup, it's true.  I'm thinkin' that Seville hasn't quite yet grasped the whole St. Valentine's Day gift givin' thing.


                                          HAPPY ST. VALENTINE'S DAY TO ALL!

major FAIL!

But of course, it's all the peep's fault.

"Let me get those links for you," she said.  "Don't worry, there's plenty of time," she said.  "I have it under control," she said.

"MOUSES!" said I and gave Ol' Peepers a failin' grade.  FAIL !!!

Today's post was supposed to be a post in celebration of several wonderful awards with which my pals have honoured me.  After officially acceptin' these awards, I was gonna honour some more of my pals by passing along those very same awards but then some stuff came up that was of a somewhat urgent nature.  Then the peep offered to get me the links for everything and then... then...  then the peep never produced the necessary links. She said the post was gettin' a little long-winded.  LONG-WINDED IS WHAT I DO BEST!  Does my peep not understand my writing style?  MOUSES!

So long story short (as if), I'm gonna be doin' this post in two parts although the second part may not follow for a week or two.  Again I say, MOUSES!

I'm gonna start with some beggin'.  That's right, I'm coming to you on bended knee, beggin' for stuff. And remember, one of my knees was bionicized after my little accident so I'm beggin', bionic style!

Did you know that I was nominated in the Canadian Blog Awards?  It's true!  I'm super happy about this but it is a voting competition and therefore, I must beg for votes.  It's pretty easy to do though. The voting part is easy.  Begging, not so much.

Anywho...  if you click right here on Canadian Blog Awards, you'll be whisked off to Election Headquarters where you can vote.  You can vote once in each of the various polls, I do believe. Votin' is open worldwide.  Although it's the Canadian Blog Awards, you do NOT have to be Canadian to vote.  Pretty neat, huh?  Yup, it sure is.  Almost forgot...  votin' ends on February 22nd so you'll want to get your votes in before then.

I've been nominated in three categories...  BEST PET BLOG, BEST FUNNY BLOG and BEST BLOG POST.  Now here is where it gets kind of complicated but just a tad complicated, really.  Apparently, I have four of the five nominations for Best Blog Post.  This is a bit of a problem 'cause I'm in real danger of splitting my vote and losing to that other cat.  Actually, I think he or she is a peep and not cat.

But anywho...  because of this vote splittin' - which should not be confused with vole spittin' - thing, I'm askin' that my pals who wish to support me, concentrate their votes on just two of the four posts.  "A wild goose chase" is super funny, I think, and "because neglect STILL isn't workin'!" is far more serious but a really important issue.  With votes bein' concentrated on those two nominations for Best Blog Post, my odds should improve.

So here I am, on bended knee...  WON'T YOU PLEASE VOTE FOR ME?

But the begging isn't over.  I wish to beg a little more.

Nominations for the BlogPaws Nose-to-Nose Awards are currently open but will close on February 12th.  I would so love to be a finalist again this year.  Last year, I even won an award.  Do I dare hope to do so again?  Well, not if not nominated and that, my friends, brings me to the additional begging part.

I'm hopin' that some of my readers will consider nominating Nerissa's Life in a category or two.  In order to place a nomination, you'll need to teleport on over to the nomination page which can be done easily enough by clicking right here on BlogPaws.  See!  Easy peasy as they say.  But there is some information you'll need in order to make the nominations.  I shall now endeavour to provide you with such.

You'll need Peep #1's name, Jennifer Niemi.  You're also gonna need a contact e-mail.  We'll use her handy-dandy Facebook e-mail which is  jennifer.niemi.10 (at) facebook (dot) com  if that's okay with everyone.

I'm really hopin' to be nominated for BEST CAT BLOG.  For that, all you need is the aforementioned information along with the blog name, Nerissa's Life and its URL, www.NerissasLife.com which, of course, you already knew.

Then there's the BEST HUMOUR BLOG category.  I looked through all my posts and came up the following, any of which - I think - could make the cut for a nomination.

- "a car and some coupons"
   http://www.nerissaslife.com/2013/12/a-car-and-some-coupons.html
- "I never lied"
   http://www.nerissaslife.com/2013/11/i-never-lied.html
- "a wild goose chase"
   http://www.nerissaslife.com/2013/10/a-wild-goose-chase.html
- "operation FLEA"
   http://www.nerissaslife.com/2013/10/operation-flea.html

But you might have a different favourite you'd like to nominate and, of course, I would love for you to do that.

And what about the BEST BLOG POST category?  Again, I picked out four of my favourites but you might very well prefer another.  Perhaps even one of the ones mentioned for Best Humour?

- "because neglect STILL isn't workin'!"
   http://www.nerissaslife.com/2013/10/because-neglect-still-isnt-workin.html
- "e is for ekiscatics"
   http://www.nerissaslife.com/2013/06/e-is-for-ekiscatics.html
- "just call me houdini"
   http://www.nerissaslife.com/2013/06/just-call-me-houdini.html
- "the adventure continues"
   http://www.nerissaslife.com/2013/07/the-adventure-continues.html

And last but not least, the BEST PET BLOG PHOTO category.  Normally I wouldn't have a picture on paw that was suitable for such a prestigious nomination but as luck would have it, this year proves to be an exception.  I might just have one that can squeak by.  Do you see that picture way up at the top of this blog post?  The one with me in the goggles I wore for my laser treatments after havin' my knee bionicized?  Well, I'd love to enter that one.  Yes indeedy, I would.

To nominate a picture, one needs a direct link to it that picture for the judges to use.  That link would be...

https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=279653015506876&set=pb.100003865383579.-2207520000.1391922762.&type=3&theater

Whew! it's a long one.  Kind of like my blog posts.

And once more, here I am on bended knee...  WON'T YOU PLEASE NOMINATE ME?

Now for the best stuff of all!  My BFF Herman, from the amazin' blog It's a Wonderpurr Life, created a brand-spankin' new award in my honour.  Receivin' this was such a proud moment for me, my friends.  Words cannot do it justice.  Never before have I had an award created in my honour.  Apparently, Herman is gonna award one anipal the Nerissa the Cat Award (gotta LOVE the name) at the end of every year but I am the very first recipient ever.  Probably 'cause my name is Nerissa and all.

WOW!  What an amazin' award and a great honour, for sure. Thank you my friend.  I am humbled beyond words.  Yeah, yeah...  I know...  this blog post is running in the 'longer than ever before' category because of all the words but still, I am truly honoured.  Just perhaps not entirely wordless.  THANK YOU HERMAN.

One last thing.  My gift to all of you via Facebook.  If you haven't already heard, Facebook gave everyone with timelines their own personal movie to celebrate Facebook turnin' ten.  Well, I don't have a timeline 'cause the peep cheaped out on me and just got me a fan page but she has a timeline and so she got a movie.  Turns out, the powers-that-be over on Facebook recognized that I was far better lookin' than the peep and far, far more photogenic.  In true form I, Nerissa the Cat, photobombed the peep's movie.  You can see my starrin' movie role here in MY very own facebook movie.  Just click here on Nerissa's Facebook Movie and you'll be teleported to the movie theatre where my movie is currently playin'.  GOTTA LOVE IT!

So that's all for today, folks.  My beggin' is finally over.  Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna head on over to BlogPaws and make some nominations of my own.  I've got tonnes of pals who are truly deservin' in a whole whack of those categories so I've gotta start nominatin' now before nominations close on the twelfth.  Hmmm...  now where did I put that link....   MOUSES!

grass is always greener...

So the other day, I was chattin' with a pal of mine about food and stuff which, as you might already know, is one of my favourite topics.  I do like my snacks.

  

Anywho...  I was tellin' this pal of mine how I was really lucky 'cause I didn't need any special kind of food.  I had no special dietary requirements.  Oh, sure...  I have my favourites like turkey and grilled chicken.  Grilled tuna is another.   Especially the grilled chicken and tuna that come out of the teeny tiny tins that are particularly tasty. Mmmm...  yum.  Yup, those go over really well.  Oh, and I also enjoy a spot of cream every now and then.  Yes, I could pretty much live on those.  No broccoli or brussels sprouts for this kitty!

Of course, there are also things I absolutely abhor.  As long as the peeps remember to never, ever, never not ever, not ever even in a million years try to pawn off duck or trout on me, I'm okay.  Won't touch those with a ten foot pole.  Not even a twenty foot one.  Icky.

But I really am a lucky kitty 'cause I get to have variety in my diet.  Good thing, too, 'cause I tend to bore easily.  Don't like to have the same thing every day, day in and day out.  That's why I have three - count 'em, three - favourite foods.  They say that variety is the spice of life and I do believe they're right.

Usually, I get the peep to dress up my meals a little.  As I tend to have turkey for breakfast every morning, I insist that she add a little grilled tuna or grilled chicken to the dish.  Yes, turkey and giblets with a side of grilled tuna or chicken, garnished with a sprig of nip.  Okay.  Fine.  You got me.  The peep doesn't actually garnish my plate with nip but I'm working on her and one day...  one day it will happen, for sure.  I just know it.  That will be about the same time when she finally starts serving me my breakfast on the good china.  Any day now, I should think.

But there are many cats out there who have to eat the very same kind of food every day of their lives.  My brother Seville is one of those kitties.  No, the peeps aren't bein' mean to him or anythin'.  It's for his own good, they say.  You see, a couple of years ago, my brother Seville developed a bit of a problem.

A couple of years ago, my brother started havin' issues with crystals.  Nope, not the kind of crystals that some peeps use for healing and not the kind of crystals that some peeps use to make jewelry.  These crystals formed somewhere inside of my brother and when he went to go pee, he couldn't.  It was a big problem.

Twice, my brother Seville has had to be rushed to hospital and spend several nights there while the doctors worked on gettin' rid of those crystals.  Sivvers says it was super painful.  He wouldn't wish it on his worst enemy.  Not even on Nosey Neighbour Cat.  MOUSES!  And as painful as it was, the worst part of all was that if his condition wasn't treated quickly, my brother could have died.  That would have been terrible 'cause basically, my brother is a really nice guy and I love him a lot.  After all, he is my brother.

Anywho...  because of Seville's problems with the crystals, he has to eat a very special food.  Peep #1 calls it Special Special and when she says the name, she says it in a special way.  Isn't that special...?

Seville doesn't buy it for a second.  He's always wantin' to hone in on whatever we're havin' but he's just not allowed.  He has to eat his Special Special and drink lots of water to keep the plumbin' workin' at top efficiency.  MOUSES!

To be honest, there are times when he will gobble down his special food but most of the time, he'd rather have whatever the rest of us are havin'.  And then there are times when he'll gobble down the Special Special thinkin' that if he eats it quickly enough, he'll get to eat whatever we're havin', too. Again I say, MOUSES!

The funny thing is, the rest of us cats - all nine of us - would much rather eat Seville's Special Special.  After all, it is special.  At least, that's what the peep says.

I guess it all boils down to that ol' sayin',  the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence.  I always eat my meals in the kitchen and, in the kitchen there are no fences but I think the sayin' still applies.  I think it might be a metaphorical fence.  Bet you didn't know I knew the word metaphorical, huh?  Well I do.  I know what it means and everything.

But speaking of fences and grass and stuff...  If the grass on the other side of the fence is always greener, I wonder if it's tastier, too.  I've never really compared the grass on different sides of the fence before.  I probably should.  I should probably devise some sort of experiment where all of us kitties line up with various samples of grass taken from various sides of various fences and we could all do a taste test or somethin'.  I'll pencil that in on my calender for June, I think.  May is a busy month for me.  Already all booked up.

Oohhh...  and I wonder if it matters which fence we use.  The sayin' says that the grass is always greener on the other side of THE fence.  Now that makes it sound like we're talkin' about a particular fence.  If it was any ol' fence, surely they would have said, 'a' fence and not 'the' fence.  Hmmm...  I'll have to do some research on the subject, for sure.

And what about nip?  If grass grows greener on the other side of the fence, does nip grow greener there as well?  If it does, I'll have to make sure that the peep installs the proper kind of fence for me and grows some nip for all of us on the other side of it.  It's always best to have the best quality of nip available and if all it takes is a fence...   well, then...  a fence we must have!

Perhaps once the peep builds me that fence and then grows a garden of grass and nip on the other side of it for me...  Perhaps once she does that, she'll start garnishing my breakfasts with some of that nip. If she has a reliable supply of fresh nip, I can't see any reason why she wouldn't.  And once I get her doin' that, I'll ask that she starts plating my meals on saucers of the Royal Doulton with the blue periwinkle...  Oh yeah...  that was the china on that television show with the funny lady named Hyacinth.  Peep doesn't have that kind of china.  I'll have to settle for the stuff with the yellow roses. MOUSES!

should have used a whisk

Previously on Nerissa's Life...  Nissy returned to filling out the forms. "One down, nine hundred and ninety-nine to go," he muttered. "MOUSES!"

Nissy threw down his pen triumphantly and cried, "Done! Gosh that was a lot of forms but we did it, Seville. We filled 'em all out.  Now we can go meet those little control freaks next door."

"Doubt they like bein' called control freaks," Seville told his brother.  "I know I sure wouldn't."

"Well I'm just repeatin' what Weatherby called 'em and besides, their job is to control the weather. The word control is bound to come up.  Come on...  let's go find Weatherby and have him introduce us to the freaks next door."

Nerissa and Seville looked high and low for Weatherby.  They looked under desks and up in cupboards but couldn't find a trace of the man.  Nissy even climbed a couple of trees growing in the Worldwide Weather Offices, just in case Weatherby was hiding in one of them but there was no sign of the elusive man, anywhere.

"Come on Sivvers," decided Nissy, "we'll go next door on our own.  We don't need that Weatherby character to show us the way.  This is just typical governmental bureaucracy.  When you need someone to help you, they're never around."

The two cats made their way down the hall, stopping before large glass double doors.  Printed on the glass was, WWO CONTROL.  "This must be the place," Nissy thought aloud and as he stepped closer, the doors swung open.

They were almost knocked over by a blast of hot air, emanating from the office and the snow just outside the office doors began to melt.  "ALOHA!" cried a man from inside.  He was dressed in clothes one would wear to a beach and Nissy thought for sure he must be heading off on vacation. "Come on in!" and the cats were invited to join the man for drinks and a little something to eat.

Nissy looked longingly at the burgers before him.  "You have snacks?  Those aren't veggie burgers, are they?" he asked suspiciously.

"Mmmm...  no...  they're deli...  delicious," Seville informed his brother between bites.  "Taste different from regular burgers though.  Mmmm...  Think they might be made with pork or somethin'," and he wiped some ketchup from his chin.  "Have some, Niss.  You'll love them."

"Er-hrm...  first things first.  I'm Nerissa and this is my brother, Seville.  We're here about the ridiculously unpredictable weather in Nova Scotia and my inability to build a snowcat.  And your name is...?"

"My, aren't you a serious little kitty.  Name is Torin Weatherby.  You can call me Tori.  Everyone does.  I'm the Chief Weather Controlling Officer.  That's me," he preened, "CWCO Tori Weatherby."


"Hmmm...  isn't Tori a girls' name," Nissy asked.  "Uhhh...  actually, never mind," he decided, thinking about his own name and the fact that he was a mancat.  "You related to William Weatherby next door?"


"We're brothers," and Tori slurped down the rest of his drink.  "So you think you need some snow in Nova Scotia this winter and you came here to ask for it? You came here?  Why here?"

"These are the Worldwide Weather Offices, Forecasting and Control, Canadian Division.  Where else would we go?"

Torin ignored Nerissa's question, entirely.  "Want, want, want...  Everybody wants something from Ottawa.  They want this and they want that.  Everyone can't get what they want.  Everyone can't have winter weather.  There's only so much winter weather to go around!  If we gave everybody in Canada winter weather, there wouldn't be enough cold air to freeze up the Rideau Canal.  Where would we skate?"

"But...  uh..."  Nissy paused.  "Exactly what are your qualifications for this position, Weatherby?"

Torin Weatherby gave the cats a cold, icy stare.  Icy enough to freeze all of Canada in once glance. "I told you, William is my brother.  I have friends in high places, you know.  You might want to watch your step."  Then he suddenly smiled and said, "Look, we're all friends here.  No reason for us to argue.  Truth is, I'm on my way to have some fun in the sun.  I seriously need a vacation. Christmas holidays were so long ago."

"But that was only a month..." Nissy began.  "Never mind.  You go on your holiday and tell me who will be left in charge while you're away."

"No one really," yawned Tori.  "The weather scientists, I suppose.  I'm off.  See you in March!" and with that, Torin Weatherby disappeared out the door.

The two cats stared at one another, not knowing how to respond.  Seville grabbed another burger from the BBQ while Nissy wandered over to a corner of the office seemingly unaffected by the heat suffocating the rest of the room.  He began to inspect the piles upon piles of textbooks and manuals lying before him.  "Hey Sivvers!  These are all books on controlling the weather.  With that Tori character gone, you and I can figure out how to direct some proper winter weather to Nova Scotia."

Nerissa and Seville spent the next few hours pouring over the various manuals and taking a break every now and then to snack on a burger or two.  The weather controlling business didn't appear to be all that difficult.  All they needed to do was follow the instructions.  Nissy couldn't understand why Torin Weatherby had been unable to provide Nova Scotia with winter weather, himself.

"And who do we have here?" asked a man wearing a white lab coat who had suddenly appeared before them.  "Cats trying to control the weather?  Yes?"

"Are you one of the scientists?" asked Nissy.  "So pleased to meet you," and he extended a paw to shake the man's hand.  "I'm Nerissa the Cat and this is my brother Seville."

"Ah yes...  I have heard about you.  Weatherby mentioned you were here."

Nissy didn't bother to ask which Weatherby had mentioned their arrival.  "Anywho...  I think I've figured it out.  Figured out how to make it snow in Nova Scotia and skip the rain until...  well... spring."

"Well, well, well...  aren't you a clever kitty," said the man whose name tag read, Professor Weatherby.  "I do know what I'm doing, you know.  There were other scientists before me who thought they understood the weather but...  well...  we got rid of them.  They kept finding the wrong results."

"Finding the wrong..." began Nissy.  "Never mind.  Let's just get this show on the road, shall we? Now Professor Weatherby, if you take this chemical and then add these two and then some of this red stuff.  What is this anyway?  Is this tape?  Never mind.  Then we need to heat it up.  You have any Bunsen Burners around?"

"No, we don't use those," explained Weatherby.  "Due to government cutbacks, we just burn these when heat is necessary," and he tossed several crumpled up papers into what looked like another BBQ.  Nissy peered at the papers before Weatherby tossed in a lit match.  They looked familiar. Sure enough, they were some of the many forms he and Seville had filled out earlier.  Nice to know they were being put to good use.

Professor Weatherby followed Nerissa's instructions to the letter and before long, sparks started to fly.  Not from the BBQ but rather, from space and time itself.  There was a bolt of lightening and then another, followed by more sparks.  The glass doors to the office violently flew open and the cold air from the hall filled the entire room.  The sandy area where Tori Weatherby had entertained them with burgers and fancy drinks a few hours earlier, frosted over and snow began to fall from newly formed storm clouds.  Something was definitely working...  or not.  Nissy wasn't quite sure.

"Take that!" a familiar voice cried and the two MPs the cats had seen earlier came running through the offices, still throwing snowballs at one another.  Nissy surmised this must be part of their daily ritual.  "This will teach you for voting against my bill!"

Suddenly there was a bright flash of light and then complete darkness. When the emergency lights came on, Professor Weatherby was nowhere to be seen.  He had vanished into thin air. The cats were alone in an icy cold, snow-filled office.  Little flashes of light began to appear before them again. One of the MPs ran past.  A few snowballs flew by.

"Hmmm...  Sivvers?  I think that uh... um...  that you and I should teleport on home now.  Our work here appears to be done and I have a sneakin' suspicion I screwed up the space time continuum with that flask of stuff I had Ol' Professor Weatherby brew up.  Didn't like the way he was sloshin' it about and stuff.  He should have used a whisk.  We should probably head on back while we still can. Let's just hope there's some Nova Scotian snow for us when we arrive home."

"I know!  We can build a couple of snowcats and then, after that, we'll build a snow Weatherby!  That should be fun, huh?  Come on...  let's get out of here while the goin' is still good," and the cats quickly teleported out of Ottawa and back to Nova Scotia, leaving the mayhem they had caused behind them.