Okay folks... it's time to get down to business.
You all know how I'm sort of a news reporter, right? Well, in my last post, I sort of glossed over a few things. It wasn't right of me. It wasn't very news reporterishly of me. It's time to set the record straight. Time to tell the real story behind the story. Are you ready for all the gory details? Well have a seat, my friends, and be prepared to hear the truth.
It all began last Saturday evening. Peep #1 was in the kitchen with her nose stuck up in the air. She was sniffing this way and that and then she said, "I smell poop." She looked around at all of us cats. We all gave her our best looks of wide-eyed innocence which is not difficult to do when you're a cat as we practise this a lot. Then I spoke up with a little meow and glanced down upon her shoes. The peep looked down as well and then the realisation came. It was her! The peep had poop on her shoe. What a peep.
Further investigation revealed that someone - and I'm not mentioning any names here but it wasn't me although I do have three fifteen-year-old aunties who sometimes have little accidents - had pooped in the front hallway. Of course, the peep had walked on it and tracked it into the kitchen. Again, what a peep. So there was nothing for the peep to do but get out all the cleaning stuff and give the kitchen floor and the area by the front door a good hard scrubbing.
Unfortunately, the shoe had you-know-what embedded in the treads and the peep thought it might be a gonner. But thanks to my good friend Herman over from It's a Wonderpurr Life, a solution was found. Herman's mom suggested the peep soak her shoe in a shallow bath of hot water augmented with Dawn dish soap overnight and lo-and-behold... the shoe was saved! Thanks, Herman. Your mom is so smart. I should just add that Dawn has not paid me to mention them. We just like the work they do with poor, unfortunate critters caught up in oil spills and whatnot.
It was shortly after this incident that the screeching began. Well, you all know what happened there. That was when the peep ran out to rescue the cat who came back from nosey neighbour cat and ended up with one badly bitten and infected hand and wrist. If you missed this little tidbit of news, you can read all 'bout it in my last blog post entitled, "a rough week."
The peep went out to break up the fight but got bitten herself. She came in and cleaned and bandaged her war wounds and that was when she realised that someone - again, no names but you might fathom a guess - had pooped on the bathroom floor and not in the litter box. Boy-o-boy we cats were making life tough for the peep that night. Luckily for her, the peep had the sense to not step in it this time. But she had to ignore this second transgression 'cause the cat who came back was still in need of rescue.
So the peep headed out again only to find the two cats back at it. This time she grabbed that cat who came back and brought him inside the house only to find that... you guessed it... someone had thrown up on the newly cleaned kitchen floor.
The peep got down on her one good hand and knees and cleaned the kitchen floor again before tackling the bathroom. It was quite the night for the peep and I must say, she handled herself quite well.
Now, you're probably all wondering why peep #1 was having to do all this all by herself? Where was peep #2, you might ask? Well, during all this time, peep #2 was away in Scotland! That's right. The second peep was off enjoying the life of Riley while my first peep was slaving away at home, battle-scarred and war-torn.
Things are much better now. A week later, the peep's hand has almost fully recovered. Her wrist is still a little sore and there's a bit of an ugly bruise but that will fade in time, I think. The redness is all gone and so is the swelling. The peep's doctor obviously took good care of her. I really did think she should have gone to one of my doctors but the peep insisted on using her own. You know peeps... they do what they like. There's just no talking sense into them at times. But I guess everything worked out in the end so all is well in my little corner of the world.
Now, how's that for news reporting? Am I ready for CNN? Can't you just see me sitting at the news desk next to Anderson Cooper. A news network with both a sterling silver tabby and a silver fox? Wow, what a network that would be. Someone should call them up and tell 'em so. Don't you think?