how could this be?

A terrible thing happened last night.  Terrible and confusing and who knows what else.  I must admit, I am still in a state of shock.

It was about nine o'clock, Atlantic Time, when I was settling in on the couch in the family room, next to peep #1.  I knew that those two NCIS shows would be coming on any minute and I figured, they would be good for a couple hours of snuggling and tummy rubs, not to mention the chin scritches.  Bliss.

That's when I noticed what I noticed.  Lying on the couch, on the other side of the peep, was some yarn.  The yarn wasn't alone.  There were a couple of knitting needles there, too.  Also, something that looked a little like an oddly shaped blanket but was far too small to actually be a blanket.  Hmmm...  the plot was thickening.  Thickening like a white sauce bein' prepared for a salmon souffle but, I suspected, not nearly as tasty.

The peep gave me a scant few seconds of behind the ear scritches before picking up the funny looking blanket that really wasn't a blanket, along with those two knittin' needles.  The writing was on the wall.  The peeps hands were going to be too busy, occupied with the yarn, to be providing me with my necessary tummy rubs and chin scritches and whatnot.  And I had been so looking forward to those tummy rubs, too.  MOUSES!  How could this be?  How could she do this to me?

Then I thought to myself...  maybe the peep is starting her elfin' early this year.  Maybe she's makin' nip toys for us cats.  Knitting up nip toys is always acceptable.  I'm perfectly willing to forgo a few nightly tummy rub sessions if my abstinence means nip toys.  Of course, I would prefer that the peep knit the nip toys on her own time - and not mine - but sometimes these things cannot be helped.  Sometimes, I suppose, a peep has just gotta do what a peep has gotta do.  I have accepted this.  But to be honest, I couldn't quite see how that funny looking blanket that really wasn't a blanket could be turned into a nip toy.

I reached out a paw and gently touched the funny looking blanket that really wasn't a blanket.  It was soft like a blanket all right.  Hmmm...  interesting.  But something was still amiss. 

Now, I'm a well-educated kitty and I know my shapes.  Blankets can be rectangular or square or even round.  I suppose, they could even be triangular, if one was into triangles.  But this thing wasn't any of those.  It was just weird.  Weird as weird could be.  And I still wasn't seeing where the nip would go.  Not that blankets usually contain nip but I was beginning to think that if this was somehow a blanket, it was the weirdest looking blanket on the face of the earth and a little pocket of nip would likely be its only saving grace.

I touched it with my paw again.  This time, the peep noticed.  "Nissy..." she said, in a low voice.  Apparently, this blanket that really wasn't a blanket was not available for touching.  I withdrew my paw.  Instead, I ran through my substantial cat expression repertoire in my head.  Hmmm....  inquisitive ears, wide eyes and a soft mew.  Yes, that would do the trick quite nicely.   And it did.

The peep explained to me that the funny looking blanket that really wasn't a blanket really WASN'T a blanket.  It was, in fact, a sweater.  Well, I must admit, that explained a lot.  It didn't have any sleeves yet, and so was unrecognisable.  Although to be honest, I wasn't quite sure that the addition of said sleeves was gonna make it any more recognisable.  Thought I'd give the peep her moment of glory though.  Let her think she was on the right track with the sweater thing.

Then it struck me.  The cold hard facts hit me like a tonne of nip falling from the sky and landing on the tip of my nose.  The peep was gonna be playing with yarn during my tummy rub time and she wasn't even makin' anything for me.  Not for me...  not for any of us cats!  I couldn't believe it.  I'm telling you, you could have knocked me down with a chickadee feather.  Yes, a feather that small!  You could probably have knocked me down with a hummingbird feather although, if I'm bein' honest, I'm not actually sure that hummingbirds have feathers.  Never been close enough to one for a proper inspection, you see.

I was dumbfounded.  I couldn't believe my eyes.  What oh what could the peep possibly be thinking? What could possibly have made the peep think that she could play with yarn without me?  And not even makin' anything for me?  MOUSES!

You know...  it's all because of this ol' opposeable thumb business.  I'm sure...  POSITIVE...  that if only I had a couple of opposeable thumbs, I could knit up a few nip toys for myself.  The lack of opposeable thumbs really and truly is the only thing holdin' us cats back from knitting, you know.  Maybe I could invent some sort of knittin' machine that doesn't require the required opposeable thumbs.  I'm gonna have a little chat with my brother, Seville.  He's quite mechanically minded.  Bet he and I could invent an invention like that.  Yes, I just bet we could.  In the meantime, I'll have to settle for watching the peep knitting the rest of her sweater.  As of last night, she has only finished half of one sleeve.  We're in this for the long haul, my friends.  A very long haul, indeed.  MOUSES!

the wayward claw

You know that saying, "Reach out and touch someone?"  My Auntie Blossom must have heard it somewhere 'cause she has really taken it to heart.  You might say, she has a bit of a wayward paw.  You might even say, she has a bit of a wayward claw.

The peeps will be sitting on the couch in the family room with Blossom lying next to one of them.  Well, when my auntie decides she needs a little attention, she'll reach out and touch whomever is closest to her.  Either peep will do.  She's not too picky 'bout that sort of thing.

First comes the touch of the paw.  Then comes the claw.  Just one claw.  Just one, razor sharp claw.  Goes right through clothing and into skin.  My auntie's claw never fails her.  Gets a peeps attention instantly.  It's faster than a speedin' bullet.  My gosh, it might even be faster than the speed of light!

The peeps, of course, aren't too thrilled 'bout this means of gettin' their attention.  They say it hurts.  Also does a real doozy on the clothing, I am told.  You see, sometimes Blossom pulls back her paw without pullin' back the claw.  Just kinda sticks in the fabric of the clothes.  Well...  stuff happens, I suppose.  Yeah...  stuff happens.

Now, I have to say something in my auntie's defence.  It really isn't Blossom's fault if her claw hurts a peep or damages their clothing.  Nope.  If she did that to me, it wouldn't hurt one bit.  Do you know why?  'Cause I've got a fur coat, of course.  If the peeps had the sense to grow some fur on their arms and legs and backs and whatnot, there would be no problem.  It's not Blossom's fault they're bald everywhere but the tops of their heads.  Not Blossom's fault at all!

Perhaps the peeps realise that any and all problems caused by the claw are really problems of their own making.  I say this 'cause Blossom never gets into any trouble regarding the claw.  Never any trouble at all.  Of course, my auntie does have one of those faces.  You know the ones.  Those big ol' innocent eyes get even bigger and wider than normal and look all pleading and whatnot.  She begs for attention.  She looks like she hasn't had any attention in years and years and years.  It's practically a look of desperation.  It's a look of desperate begging, for sure! 

Actually, if I'm being honest - and I always am, my Auntie Blossom looks a little like a basset hound.  Yeah, my auntie who is most definitely a cat, looks a whole lot like a basset hound...  and that would be a dog.  She doesn't have the ears to pull off a basset hound though.  But, I bet, if you stuck a pair of long hound dog costume ears on her, you'd be pretty hard pressed to tell the difference. 

The peeps never raise their voices to her when Blossom gives them the claw.  Nope.  They just gently disentangle the claw from their clothing and, sometimes, skin. 

It's really quite funny to watch, you know.  I've spent many an hour being amused by the peeps and claw.  A peep will be sitting there and then, all of a sudden, they make this funny kind of face.  All screwed up and whatnot.  Sometimes you'll hear a bit of a squeal, too.  Especially if the first peep is involved.  It's not a squeal of delight or anything.  More like a squeal of pain, I should think.  Then comes the disentanglement of the claw and clothing bit.  Yeah, I know...  so far it hasn't been too funny.  The comedy routine comes next.

The peep in question will then give my auntie the attention she wants.  Blossom is quite partial to chin scritches and tummy rubs so she usually gets those.  The attention will continue for a few minutes and then the peep will stop.  Then you wait.  Five, four, three, two, one....  CLAW!!!  Hehehe...  Happens every time.  It's like clockwork.  And this can happen like, seven, eight, nine, even ten times an hour.  It's like the peeps can't grasp the concept.  The concept that if they stop paying attention to my auntie, she's gonna give them the claw.  They just don't seem to understand that if they don't want the claw, they've gotta keep up with the tummy rubs.  The answer is as clear as day.  As clear as a sunny day with no cloud cover and excellent visibility for miles and miles and miles.  Don't know why the peeps can't figure it out.

But I'll tell you who has figured it out.  That would be my sister Tobias.  She, just like my Auntie Blossom, has razor sharp claws.  Kitten like claws.  She has seen how Blossom gets extra attention and has worked up a little scheme of her own.  When she wants a peep's attention, Toby will now give them the claw, too.  She doesn't have Blossom's desperate begging look of a basset hound goin' for her but she does have her irresistible kittenish charm.  She's not a young kitten anymore or anything.  She just looks like one.  She's really small and has a kittenish figure.  Anywho...  when Toby gives them the claw, she doesn't get into any trouble, either.  She knows that neither of our peeps would ever yell at a kitten...  even if that kitten is actually a full-grown cat in disguise.

I never give the peeps the claw.  Maybe I should.  Seems to work for my auntie and my sister.  Hmmm...  might give it a try, one day.  See what it gets me.  Might get me some extra chin scritches.  Oohhh....  I like those!  Who am I kidding...  I love 'em!  Yeah...  just might give that ol' claw a try.  I'll let you know what happens, when I do.

reality check

"But...  I did my best..."  Have you ever heard someone say that?  The statement is usually made in a whining snivelling kind of voice.  Sound familiar now?  Yeah, I'm sure you've all heard it.  Peeps say it all the time.

The fact of the matter is that we can only ever do our best.  We can't do better than our best 'cause that just doesn't make sense.  If we have a best and then we do better than that best, well then...  we have a new best.  So we're still only doin' our best.  It's just a different best.  We have raised the bar,
                                                                                       so to speak.  Make sense?

But...  is our best always good enough? 

It's absolutely fine to tell the young peeps that all they need do is their best 'cause, let's face it, all that should ever be expected of those young ones is their best.  When peeps are just five and six years old and whatnot, they've got a lot of stuff to learn.  They need to concentrate on their learnin' and not be bothered by competing with others, learnin' the same stuff.  When those little ones do their best, well...  that really is good enough.

My problem is with peeps who aren't little anymore.  My problem is with the big peeps.  The adult peeps.  The peeps who seem to have forgotten that they're no longer young and in grade one or somethin'.  The peeps who have forgotten that there's a different standard set for adults, than for children.  The peeps who have forgotten that for adults, results matter.  It doesn't really matter if you've done your best when you're an adult.  What matters are the results.  Know what I mean?

Far too often, these big peeps who think they're still five or six or somethin', use the aforementioned statement as an excuse to not improve themselves.  I guess they think that their best really is the best and that's almost never right.  Truth is, only a bunch of sapsy-heeded jakes would ever think they can sail through life telling other peeps they've done their best so whatever it is that they've done, has to be good enough.  Apparently, no one has ever explained to them that the rest of the world doesn't have to settle for their best if someone else can, and is willing, to do whatever it is, better.

So...  when is ones best not good enough?  Well obviously, when it's not!

Let's say you're a rocket scientist and you're responsible for doin' the calculations for sending a rocket with some peeps up to the moon or somethin'.  Well...  you make a teeny tiny little mistake with those calculations and you're off by a fraction of a degree.  Next thing you know, those peeps in that rocket are sailin' past the moon and heading toward the outer fringes of the solar system.  Just what are you gonna tell those peeps?  I really don't think it would be appropriate to say, "But I did my best..."  Would Captain Kirk say that?  Not on your mouses!

Or maybe you're a chef and you put the lettuce for the salads in the cooler right below a big ol' container of raw chicken and that lettuce gets spattered with stuff from said chicken.  Next thing you know all the patrons of your restaurant are in the hospital suffering from food poisoning.  You know, they're likely gonna be pretty upset and I'm not sure if your sayin', "But I did my best..." is gonna cut it.  Do you really think Chef Ramsey would ever say that?  Bet my mouses he wouldn't!

I could go on and on with the examples but I'm sure we've all got the picture by now.  Sometimes, our best just isn't good enough.  We all have to accept this fact.  Peeps and cats alike.  We all have our limits.  Each and every one of us.  It's true.

Personally, one of my limits is that I really can't tolerate peeps who think I'm gotta put up with something mediocre just 'cause mediocre is the best those peeps have to offer.  I'm not tryin' to be mean or anything.  I'm just tired of hearing it.  I'm tired of hearing all the excuses.  Just sick and tired.  If you ask me, those peeps need to be slapped in the face with the tail of reality and have some sense knocked into them.

Last year, my peep #1 promised me she would grow me a catnip garden.  It never came to fruition.  She got the seed and rigged up a little cage thingy to protect the plants but the plants never grew.  The peep totally screwed up.  Totally!  I don't know what she did or didn't do.  All I know is that there was no catnip harvest from my garden.  Those were the results and and those results were - and still are - unacceptable.  And I don't wanna hear from the peep that she did her best 'cause, quite frankly, her best just wasn't good enough. 

Luckily for me, the peep knows I have an intolerance for sapsy-heeded jakes.  She didn't even try to make any excuses.  She went out and bought us cats the necessary nip.  But this year, I'm expecting better from the peep.  Gonna wanna see some better results.  Gonna wanna see some fresh nip bein' harvested from my very own nip garden.  I've put my peep on notice.  And, if necessary, the tail of reality is ready.  I've got it on standby.

a tail of two kitties

It was the best of times.  It was the worst of times.  Awww... who am I kidding?  It was the BEST of times for sure!

It was Thursday and the peeps had to run some errands which were pretty much gonna take up most of the afternoon.  I had peep #1's lap booked for tummy tickles and ear scritches for that night while we watched The Big Bang Theory, together.  The peep promised me that she would be back in plenty of time so I said it would be okay for her to do her errands.

Now, I have to explain something.  For several days prior to this, that nosey neighbour cat had been in my house.  That's right...  in my house...  for several days!  The peeps had let him in at some point during the previous weekend. Well, he went and made himself right at home - right there in my house - and refused to leave!  Could you believe it?  And it gets worse.  One night, he thought he'd venture into my family room.  I mean...  it's bad enough that he's in my house, eatin' my food, usin' my litter boxes and breathin' my air but then he wants to hone in on my personal time and space with my peeps, too?  MOUSES!!!

Well, on Thursday morning, nosey neighbour cat went outside.  Yoo-hoo!  YOO-HOO!!!  It was a mild and perfectly acceptable day for a cat to be out.  The peeps were hopin' he'd venture across the street to his own house.  That's right...  he has a house.  And it's a perfectly good house.  And he has his very own peeps and they're super-duper nice.  His mom is actually a friend of mine.  That's right...  even though I'm pretty cautious with strangers, I let nosey neighbour cat's mom gaze upon me and say nice things 'bout me and whatnot.  She's a nice mom.  Don't know why he's always comin' over my house when he has a perfectly good mom of his own.  MOUSES!

Anywho...  the peeps knew they were gonna be gone all afternoon and nosey neighbour cat was outside so they left the kitchen window closed.  My fur-family and I were all inside my house and nosey neighbour cat was outside my house and I just knew in my heart this was gonna turn out to be a good day.  I was able to eat and drink and play with my toys with no sign of a nosey neighbour cat on the horizon.  Ahhh....

By the time the peeps got home, it was late and already dark.  Guess who was outside my back door, waiting to get in.  That's right...  nosey neighbour cat.  But do you know what happened next?  Peep #1 spoke nicely to him and told him they were gonna go to his house.  She called to him and nosey neighbour cat got up on all four paws and went to the peep.  Then, if you can believe it, he walked with the peep back to his own house.  I wouldn't have believed it myself had I not seen it with my very own eyes.  There the two of them were, walkin' side by side, down my driveway, across the street and up his driveway to his door.  Nosey neighbour cat's mom came to the door and picked up that cat and - I am told - he just sort of melted into her arms.  Happy as a clam to be home, he was.  Happy as a clam!  Hmmm...  are clams really happy?  That's what they say.  Bet they're not happy at clam bakes though.  Just thinkin'... 

Why the peep never thought of takin' that nosey neighbour cat back to his own house before, I will never understand but my point is, nosey neighbour cat was then in his very own house again with his very own peeps.  Once again, I had my peeps all to myself.  Glorious, I tell you...  GLORIOUS! 

But the best part of the day was still to come.  The car was loaded up with stuff gathered durin' the peeps' errands.  It was pretty good stuff including a whole whack of tins containing some of my very favourite kinds of food.  All those bags had to be brought inside the house and it was gonna take a whole lot of trips back and forth between the car and the back door to do it.  I decided to help the peep.

It was exactly one degree, Celsius, below zero which is a perfectly comfortable temperature for an evening romp.  Clouds prevented the moon and the stars from lightin' up the yard but the back door light was on and its light was bein' reflected every which way by the snow.  And that snow had a kind of crusty surface 'cause it had been melting a little during the days and then freezing again each night.  All that meltin' and freezin' makes a nice solid surface upon which a cat can walk.

I spent the next fifteen or twenty minutes running back and forth between the car and the house with my peep #1.   Sometimes I was right there beside her, she on the path and I on the snow.  Sometimes I was just a little ahead of her, walkin' on the path myself.  I meowed to my peep the entire time, tellin' her 'bout my day and whatnot.  And I told her how proud I was of her, gettin' that nosey neighbour cat to go back to his own house.  The peep said I was prancin'.  I was just so happy.  I guess my happiness accounts for the lightness of my step.

Ahhhh....  it really and truly was the best of times.  The very, very best.  Know what I mean?

here today, gone tomorrow

The other day, I wanted into the living room but the door was closed so, of course, I called for a peep to come and open it.  Any peep would have done but it was the first peep who answered my beck and call.  Before opening the door, the peep and I stood there for a moment, looking through the glass at my brother Rushton.  There he was, stretched out on the floor, lookin' as wistful as a wistful cat can look and staring at one of our new toys from Christmas.

The peep and I entered the living room and walked over to Rushton and the toy.  Immediately, we both knew exactly what was wrong.  It was broken!  Someone had broken it.  And it was lookin' like that someone was Rushton.

There was our beautiful new Catit Senses Circuit, lying on the floor with one of the dome pieces missing.  Well, it wasn't so much missing as it had been tossed to the side.  Most likely tossed to the side by Rushton.  The peep got down on her hands and knees, gave Rushy a good behind-the-ears-scritch to console him and attempted to fix the toy.  That was when she noticed that the ball that lives within the Catit Senses Circuit was missing.  A mystery for sure.  Duh, duh, duh, duuuuhhhhhhh......

Of course she couldn't fix our toy without the ball.  The ball is an intricate part of the toy.  That's the part we bat about sending it from one end of the circuit to the other and back again.  Where-oh-where could our little ball be?

Since she was already on her hands and knees, the peep started crawling around the living room floor, looking for the ball.  Yes folks, she was crawling.  What a sight!  A funny sight, for sure.  Not the glorious sight Rushy and I were anticipating when she finally found the missing ball and fixed our toy but quite entertaining, I must admit. 

The peep looked here and the peep looked there and she pretty much looked just about everywhere but then, out of the blue the peep said, "What is this?"  She was peering at something lying on the carpet and it was not the missing ball.  She peered closer.  "Is that...  no...  it couldn't be."  Yes, that is just what the peep said before adding, "and is that another one?  Are those really feathers?"

Rushy and I could tell that the peep was in total shock.  I just stood there, on all four paws, not darin' to move even a whisker.  Rushy jumped up onto the dining room table and feigned sleep.  He may have looked all innocent but I knew he was guilty of somethin'.

The peep continued to mutter stuff under her breath.  "Did someone catch a bird?  And they brought it into the living room without my knowing?  Could those nasty rumours started by that pseudo-scientific report on cats killing birds be true?  No, I can't believe that.  My cats aren't birders.  I refuse to believe I live with a dozen serial killers.  It just can't be.  I know for a fact that all twelve of our cats might catch a couple of birds between them in a year.  And that's in a good year.  Not a typical year.  In a typical year they don't catch any!  That nonsensical fluff piece about the Fluffies of the world was nothing more than a dangerous piece of junky science and ridiculous journalism.  No truth in it whatsoever."  Yes, my friends...  these are all things my peep said.  I swear on a stack of the nip that she said every single word.  The peep was on a roll, I tell you...  unlike our missing ball from the Catit Senses Circuit.  It was still missing.

The peep was still kneeling on the floor, looking at what she now knew to be feathers when something on the kitty condo caught her attention.  She reached over and touched the little sisal ball hanging from the lower level of the condo.  That sisal ball is a pretty neat toy, you know.  We got it for Christmas, too, and it's attached to the kitty condo using the magic of magnets.  The peep looked closely at this second toy and stated slowly, "I'm sure this ball used to have feathers," with used bein' the operative word.

Mystery solved.  We cats didn't catch a bird.  What nonsense!  No sirree.  One of us, however, did rip all the feathers out of the new magnetic toy.  I'm thinkin' it was Rushton.  I know it wasn't me.  I know that for sure.

As for the Senses Circuit toy...  the ball is still missing.  The peep thinks it's under the couch but hasn't bothered to pull the couch out to check.  I'm gonna send one of my sisters under there, later on.  Tobias and Tess are both little and will fit easily.  After the ball is retrieved, I'm sure the toy can be fixed.  Well, that toy can.  I'm not so sure 'bout the magnetic ball one.  I don't think the feathers can be reattached.  I think they're gone for good.  Oh well, you know what they say...  here today, gone tomorrow.  There's almost always a little bit of truth to every saying, I suppose.  Especially when you've got a brother named Rushton.

And just so you know...  Even though I've mentioned our wonderful Catit Senses Circuit toy by name, this was not a paid advertisement, or anythin' of the sort.  We got that toy from Santa.

snakes alive!

I just found out the other day that today, of all days, is the Chinese New Year.  I also found out that this great ol' year of ours - 2013 - is the Year of the Snake.  Well, truth be told, I already knew all that stuff.  I keep on top of all the newsworthy items of the world and whatnot, you know.  Besides, I had looked at the calendar earlier.  But what was news to me was that my very own Peep #1 is...  get this...  a snake!  That's right, she was born in a previous Year of the Snake so that makes her a snake, too.  Neat, huh?

So I looked up about the snakes.  One website listed lucky numbers and lucky plants for snakes along with a whole bunch of other stuff.  I looked up a Chinese Horoscope in the peep's magazine, too.  Research is very important for an investigative cat reporter such as myself so I knew I needed to research all 'bout these snakes.  Especially since I was livin' with one and all.

I was particularly interested in the snake's lucky plants.  I checked it out and the peep's lucky plants are cacti and orchids.  Hmmm....  she likes orchids.  She has grown a couple of cacti in her time but let's just say that maybe cacti are supposed to be lucky for her but she's not so lucky for them.  It is a very unlucky cactus, indeed, who ends up belonging to my peep.  From what I understand, they're pretty indestructable.  You couldn't kill one if you tried.  Maybe that's how the peep does it.  She doesn't actually try to kill them.  It just happens naturally.  The peep should write a book about it or something.  The Corpse of the Cantankerous Cactus.   Hehehe...  I like that.  I think I'll suggest it to her later.  Of course, if the peep was involved with the death of the cactus, there would be no mystery.  All paws would point directly at her.

I kind of think the peep should stick to the growin' of the orchids.  In fact, we cats even got her a new one for Valentine's Day next week.  It's white with a little pink and very pretty.  But don't tell her 'bout it, okay?  The orchid is a surprise.  We don't want to ruin the surprise, right?  I think she'll like it though.  They bloom for weeks and weeks and weeks for her so she'll have the flowers for a really long time.

The orchid we got the peep is a moth orchid.  Hmmm...  the peep was just complain' the other day 'bout moths.  Oh-oh...  Let's hope that was a different kind of moth.  She found an old red coat of hers that was way at the back of the hall closet and it had a hole in it.  Now normally, when things have holes in them, we cats get the blame but this time we were lucky.  The peep is blamin' moths and said something 'bout needin' some cedar.  I don't really know what she's talking about.  Wait a minute...  maybe the peep is gonna plant a cedar tree inside.  We have some cedar bushes outside in my garden but it's winter here in Canada and cold and snowy.  We could do with an indoor one, for sure!  Hope she's not thinkin' of growin' it in the closet.  I don't think that would work.  No windows, you see.  But I digress...

Back to the snakes.  Some of my research indicated that snakes are a creative lot.  I wasn't overly happy to hear that.  The peep is also a Libra and they too are supposed to be creative.  This is not good.  She'll be bragging 'bout her Libran snaky creativity all over the place.  I'll never hear the end of it, you know.  She'll be spoutin' snake this and Libra that...  MOUSES!  I say.  MOUSES!!!  Besides, we all know who the real creative genius is in this family is.  That would be me.

You know...  we have snakes livin' in our garden.  Some are green and some are brown.  All of them are pretty small.  My dad Jacob and my sister Constance like to catch snakes.  I'm not into that.  My dad and Connie will spend hours and hours and hours out in the garden, snakin'.  They don't eat 'em or anything.  They don't even hurt them.  They bring them home to the peep.  The peep then rescues the snakes and puts them back in the garden.  She puts the brown ones near the brush pile where they'll blend in with dead leaves and whatnot.  The green ones are released in spots where there's lots of green grass.  The peep is awfully intent upon rescuing those snakes.  She says they're good for the garden 'cause they eat bugs and stuff.  I wonder though...  could she think they're her kin or somethin'?  You know, from her snake side of the family.

Do you know something else?  We have some of the peep's lucky orchids growin' outside, too.  They grow in woodsy spots.  Been there since before I was born.  They're called lady slippers, or somethin' silly like that.  I don't know why.  I've never seen a peep wearin' them on their feet, or anythin'.  I've never seen a fairy wearing 'em, either.  And fairies are way smaller than peeps so they'd be more likely to fit into those slippers.  What's more, fairies live in the garden all the time so the lady slippers would be convenient for them to pull on a pair when needed.  Although now that I think about it...  most fairies go barefoot.  They have wings so they spend far more time flying than walkin'.  That's probably why they don't wear shoes or slippers. 

I just thought of something...  Snakes live out in the very same woodsy parts of my garden as those lady slippers and the fairies.  I sure do hope the snakes don't eat the fairies.  Maybe I should post a warning sign or somethin'.  Yeah...  I'll get right on that.  I'll ask the peep to hammer me up a sign post for posting.  Gotta run!

it's about time!

Boy-oh-boy...  let me tell you...  PEEPS!

So way back when, in old and ancient times now appearin' in the latest of the history books, the peep promised to make me an award to celebrate my reaching twenty-five thousand hits on my blog.  Well...  that was three thousand hits ago!  MOUSES!!!

Now finally...  FINALLY...  she has the award all ready for presentation.  Turns out the timing is kind of appropriate 'cause the award is about love and this is February and all and Valentine's Day is next week.  But let me assure you - under no uncertain terms -  this was not the peep's plan all along.  This is simply what one calls a fortuitous coincidence.  I know...  some cats and peeps don't believe in coincidences and whatnot but again, I assure you, this was not part of the ol' peep's plan.  The original plan was that I present the first recipients of this award, with this award, three thousand hits ago!!!

So without any further delays, let me tell you all about the Why I Love Thee award.  In acceptin' this award, one must do the following four things.  Firstly, you've gotta thank the cat who gave it to you and link back to their blog.  Secondly, you need to post the award somewhere - anywhere will do - on your blog.  Thirdly, you need to tell us all why you love your peep.  Now, this is part that get just a teensy bit complicated.  What if you are a peep?  Well, in that case, tell us all why you love your cat...  or dog...  or bunny...  or...  well, you get the picture, right?  But you've gotta tell us why you love somebody 'cause this award is all about the love.  And last, but not least, you need to pass the award along.  You can pass it along to one blog or fifteen blogs or any number of blogs in-between.  Pretty easy stuff, right?  Yeah...  easy peasy.

That reminds me...  Remember last year around this time when my brother Seville wrote a poem entitled Easy Peasy and presented it to the peep for Valentine's Day?  It went like this...

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

Yeah...  the rest of us cats gave peep #1 a little red rose bush last year.  Seville wrote her a poem and then so helpfully demonstrated by peein' on her.  That's right.  For Valentine's Day, he peed on the peep!  What a character.  But I digress...

Back to the award.  Well, since I'm startin' us all off I guess I don't need to thank anyone or link back to their blog.  Although I could thank the peep for finally gettin' her act together and makin' the award presentable.  Okay, I'll officially thank Peep #1 and link back to her blog, The Peep's Cheeps.  Think she might even have a new story on it today.  Who knows?  She's not a prolific writer like me.  And I do need to explain why I love the peep.  Hmmm...  let's see...  I think I love the peep most 'cause whenever I'm sad or scared or even just a little nervous, I can go over to the peep and she'll pick me up and kiss the top of my head and cuddle me and all my worries disappear like magic.  I can just melt into her arms and feel safe and loved 'cause I know she loves me lots and lots.  Plus, she knows how to open the tins of Fancy Feast.  Never mind that...  she knows the way to the grocery store to buy the Fancy Feast in the first place!  You've gotta love a peep who supplies the Fancy Feast.

Now, I need to pass the award along.  The nominees are....

- Herman at It's a Wonderpurr Life
- Savannah at Savannah's Paw Tracks
- Spitty at Spitty Speaks
- Sammy at onespoiledcat
- Katie at GLOGIRLY
- Speedy at Speedy the Cheeky House Bunny
- Sherlock, Traveller & Ash at Feline Purr-spective
- Patchy Meow at The Five Cats Chronicles
- Felix & Jasper at Felix and Jasper Blogalot
- Mario at Mario's Meowsings
- Katie at Katie Isabella
- Nellie at Cat from Hell
- Basil at Basil the Bionic Cat's Blog
- Texas at Texas, a Cat in New York
- Molly at Molly the Wally

Well, there you have it folks...  a brand new award goin' to fifteen very deservin' blogs.  And since there are lots and lots more deservin' blogs out there, I sure am hoping this award will be hopping all over the blogosphere in no time at all.  Got all four paws crossed on that one.  But don't worry...  I'm sittin' down so as not to fall or anythin'.  Standing with all four paws crossed at once can be quite the balancing act!

b is for burgocatster

Guess what.  That's right.  It's time for another Personal A to Z challenge.

If you remember, a few weeks ago I invented the word autocatphalous.  That was my invention for the letter a.  It was a very good invention, if I do say so myself.  Today, we have another invention for I have now invented a word beginning with the letter b.  B is for burgocatster.

Never heard of the word burgocatster before today?  Well, that's 'cause I just invented it.  But you mark my words...  peeps will be usin' the word soon enough.  You'll be hearin' burgocatster this and burgocatster that and...  and...  well... let's just say you'll be hearing a whole lot about the burgocatsters.  And if we cats and our peeps use it enough, perhaps the good ol' folks at Webster might use it in their next addition.  That would be something for the books, wouldn't it?

The word burgocatster is derived from the pre-existing word, burgomaster, meaning the mayor of a Dutch or Flemish town.  Well...  I've never been to Holland or anywhere like that and I've never met a mayor.  My pal Stan ran for mayor but not in Holland.  He ran for mayor in a city right here in Canada.  He would have been a paw in, too, had the peeps already runnin' the city bothered to put his name on the ballot.  MOUSES!  Some peeps...

You know...  they say that a cat look at a queen.  Not sure if it works the other way around though.  I suppose that if Queen Elizabeth came to Canada again and asked if we could meet, I could let her look at me.  I think that would be okay.  Might be a bit of an honour.  Even might be an honour for me. 

What I do know for sure is that if a cat can look at a queen, a cat can surely look at a mayor.  And I know something else, too.  In the hierarchy of titles, burgocatster trumps mayor.  A burgomaster might be a mayor but a burgocatster is a step above mayor.  Burgocatsters are like the mayors of mayors.  Because for one thing...  burgocatsters are always cats.  It's only logical, for as we all know....  cats rule.  It cannot be denied.

You know another thing they say?  They say that cats rule and dogs drool.   Hmmm...  My sister Constance sometimes drools and she's a cat.  I'm pretty sure she's a cat.  She had better be a cat.  We had some the same mama!  But I digress...

Back to the burgocatsters.   A burgocatster is the cat who is in charge of all the other cats in any given area.  This could be a town or a city block or a farm or a...   a house.  Anywhere where there is more than one cat.  Now, the burgocatster is in charge of all the other cats.  All the cats together are in charge of all the peeps.  One of these peeps could, in fact, be a mayor.  That's why burgocatsters are more important than mayors.  Simple as that.

Bein' in charge of a lot of cats who are in charge of a lot of peeps is a lot of work.  In fact, it's a tremendous amount of work.  It could give a cat grey hair.  Even a cat who is not grey.  Those peeps need so much supervision and whatnot.  I'm sure you all know exactly what I mean.

Believe it or not, I am not the burgocatster of our house.  That title falls to my Auntie Primrose.  This is why she sometimes gets just a teeny tiny bit cranky.  That, and the fact that the peeps are always callin' her the enforcer.  She's little but pure muscle.  And does she ever have a voice on her...  I think she has an extra set of lungs or somethin'.

So there you have it.  A new invention.  A new word.  B is for burgocatster.  Let's see how many of us can use it in a sentence today, huh?  I'm gonna go use it with the peeps right now.  I'll explain to them how our local burgocatster - and that would be Auntie Primrose - wants all of us cats to get extra helpings of the Fancy Feast today.  They can't deny the wishes of the burgocatster now.   Can they?  Hmmm...