Sunday, 29 November 2020

thirty-seven weeks


You know what they say...

They say, the lights are on, but nobody's home.

Clearly, these people have met my peep.

MOUSES!

So I was chattin' with the ol' peep this mornin' and remindin' her 'bout how she and I have been cooped up in this ol' house together now for like thirty-seven weeks, due to the pandemic thing.  Yup, we've been pretty much cooped up here together for two hundred and one million, three hundred and ninety-eight thousand, four hundred cat seconds, and...

AND SHE DIDN'T FIND ANYTHIN' WRONG WITH THAT, AT ALL.

CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?

MOUSES!

Of course, my bein' cooped up with her IS a whole lot harder on me, than her bein' able to spend extra time with me is, on her.

I mean...

I mean, it's kinda like an honour and a privilege for her to be spendin' all day, every day, with me, right?  A real HONOUR.  A real privilege, too.  On the other paw, my havin' to spend day in and day out with Peepers is a struggle of the greatest magnitude, for sure.

Why, just the other day...

Just the other day, I said to the peep, "Peepers, you're gonna wanna do something 'bout this here mess you left on the kitchen floor," and her reply was...

"Blah blah blah...  Blah blah, blah.  Blah blah, blah blah, blah BLAH."

So I said, "WHAT?"

Then she blahhed a bit more, which was difficult to understand on account of my not really listenin' to her blahhin' and blatherin', on account of her blatherin' usually bein' super stupid.  So again I had to ask, "WHAT?"

Well that did it.  She gave me THE LOOK.

And then...

Then she accused ME of makin' the mess in the kitchen.

CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?

MOUSES!

Now sure, some of that mess might very well have happened when I knocked over the bag of my special kibble, but...


BUT IT'S NOT MY FAULT SAID KIBBLE BAG WAS LEANIN' UP AGAINST THE ISLAND LIKE IT WAS, JUST ASKIN' TO BE KNOCKED OVER.

Askin'?  No, it was practically BEGGIN'.

SHE left the bag there, open and easily accessible.  She did it.  Yes, SHE.  Therefore, it was HER FAULT it got knocked over in the first place.

DON'T PEEPS UNDERSTAND THAT IF THEY DON'T WANT SOMETHIN' KNOCKED OVER, THEY SHOULDN'T LEAVE SAID SOMETHIN' IN A PLACE WHERE IT CAN BE KNOCKED ABOUT?

DON'T THEY?

Of course they don't.

MOUSES!

Now here is my predicament, my friends.  My predicament havin' to do with Peepers.  In about four weeks or so, we have Christmas comin' up.  Soon it's gonna be time for decoratin' the tree, and...

AND I'M NOT TAKIN' ANY RESPONSIBILITY IF SAID TREE GETS KNOCKED DOWN.

Like I said before: if you don't want messes made, don't leave potential messes lyin' about, just WAITIN' to happen.

'Cause let me tell you somethin': if I'm gonna be cooped up with the peeps for much longer, I'm gonna have a whole lot of built up energy just waitin' to be spent.

Methinks this year, the peep should nail that sucker down to the floor.

MOUSES!


 ***********************

And remember:

IF IN DOUBT,

DON'T. GO. OUT.

Continue to practice SOCIAL DISTANCIN' measures

AND KEEP WASHIN' YOUR PAWS.

MOUSES!

Remember to mask up, too.