those three have lungs!

As you all know, I live with eleven other cats.  Three of those cats are my aunties.  There's Auntie Primrose, Auntie Snowdrop and Auntie Blossom.  Let me tell you something 'bout those aunties of mine.  Those three have lungs!

Of course, we all have lungs.  We need our lungs.  Lungs are what allow us to breath in fresh air and enjoy the window whiffies and whatnot.  But my three aunties must have extra large, extra powerful lungs 'cause they can suck in the air like no other cats I know and when they exhale...  well...  well...  well you should hear 'em!  Perhaps, you already have.  They're pretty darned mousin' loud.

The sounds that emanate from my aunties are extraordinary.  No cat can holler like my aunties.  You might think you know a cat as loud as one of my aunties but you might also be wrong 'bout that 'cause my aunties have lungs like no others.  They're almost as loud as my peep #1 when she does her caterwauling.  Almost.  The peep's caterwauling can get exceptionally loud, you see.  Or should that be hear?

Anywho...  back to the aunties. 

For the longest time, my Auntie Snowdrop was the loudest of the three.  Once, a long time ago, when we used to go to a different hospital for our check-ups and whatnot, my Auntie Snowdrop was in peep #1's arms - safely secured with a harness and lead, of course - as the peep carried her into the clinic.  Auntie Snowdrop decided to make herself known to the world at that very moment.  "Meowwwwwrrrr!  Meowwwwwrrr!  MEOWWWWWRRR!  Peep said she sounded just like Scooby Dooby Do, only louder.

The clinic had an overhang and that overhang created an echo.  Yes, Auntie Snowdrop's meowwwwwrrrs were echoing all over the place.  The acoustics were exceptionally good for her meowwwwwrrrs, which, I'm pretty sure, Auntie Snowdrop understood.  Why make a fuss if no one is gonna hear? 

And hear, peeps did.  I am told, there were peeps in the parking lot. They weren't overly close to where my Auntie Snowdrop and the peep stood.  In fact, they were pretty far away and yet, Peep #1 said they stopped dead in their tracks and started lookin' all about, frantically.  What was that noise?  They didn't actually say that but I'm pretty sure that's what they were thinkin'.  Well, that noise was my Auntie Snowdrop!  Good one, Snow.  Good to know you can keep even other cats' peeps on their toes.

Nowadays, my Auntie Snowdrop has mellowed somewhat and my Aunties Primrose and Blossom are pickin' up the slack.  The noise-makin' slack, that is.

My Auntie Primrose has recently decided that the peeps aren't gettin' up early enough in the mornings.  I mean, if the crack of dawn is good enough for the birds, it should be good enough for peeps.  It's certainly good enough for the cats however, the cats need the peeps up too 'cause the peeps know how to open the tins.

Every morning now, Auntie Primrose sets up shop as a rooster.  Dawn cracks open an eye and my auntie goes into full rooster mode.  MEEEOW!  MEEEOW!!  MEEEOW!!!  You should hear her.  Personally, I put my paws over my ears and try not to but it's awfully difficult.  Dawn arrives way too early for a cat like me.  I'm more of a night owl, you see. 

I don't know how the peeps stand the noise.  Of course, their ears are not as sensitive as mine but still, one does not need sensitive ears to hear Primrose and her meeeows.  You can hear her throughout the entire house.  I bet you can even hear here outside of the house.  Those meeeows could wake the dead, I do believe.  Even if one of those dead to the world does have pillows pasted to her ears, tryin' to keep out the sound.  Peep #1 knows that the noise will stop if she gets up so I wish to goodness that so would do so the very moment my Auntie Primrose starts.  That would allow me to roll over and get some more sleep.  I don't need to get up until breakfast is actually served and even then, I sometimes wait until the second sitting.

As my Auntie Primrose's meeeows are provin' somewhat ineffectual at wakin' up peep #1, my Auntie Blossom has decided to get in on the act.  Very recently she has started hoppin' up on the bed next to the peep, going right up to her face and, when she is mere inches from the said peep's face, she lets out the mother of all meows.  MMMEEEEOOOOOWWWWWWW!!!  It usually takes just the one.  Peepers is up in seconds.

And talk about wide eyed and bushy tailed!  First time it happened, the peep's eyes were as wild as wild can be and her hair?  Well, her hair practically stood on end.  She looked like a squirrel caught red handed in the nut factory.  MOUSES!

The funny thing is, my Auntie Blossom doesn't seem to be willin' to use her powers of vocalisation when perhaps, she really should.

Just the other night, Auntie Blossom was nowhere to be found.  The peeps looked everywhere.  It was well after midnight when peep #1 remembered that the garage door had been left open during the afternoon.  So, well after midnight, ol' peepers headed out to the garage.  She got close to the little door next to which is a window and that's when she heard it.  Meow.  Meow.  Tiny little, plaintive meows.  They could barely be heard.  That's right, my Auntie Blossom had been locked in the garage.

Why Auntie Blossom hadn't let out one of her ear piercing, mother of all meows earlier on is beyond me.  The peeps would have heard her.  I can guarantee it.  Peeps from all over the county would have heard her.  I can practically guarantee that, too.

Auntie Blossom has not meowed at peep #1 for the last two mornings.  I think she's still mad 'bout bein' locked in the garage.  I think she's not speakin' to the peep or something.  At least, that's what I think.

you say tomato...

You say to-may-to.  I say to-mah-to.  Wait a minute.  I don't like tomatoes.  They're veggies for mousin' out loud.  What's that, peepers?  You say they are, in fact, fruit?  MOUSES!  Does everyone know 'bout this?  Should I make some kind of news announcement or something?  Should I call CNN?  Just kidding, peepers.  I don't think anyone really cares.

Actually, my dad likes tomatoes and that's just weird 'cause you know...  my dad is a cat.

You say po-tay-to.  I say po-tah-to.  Nah, I don't eat those, either.  On the other paw, I might like them if you slathered 'em up with real, meltin' butter and sprinkled some fresh nip on 'em.  Yum.  I could go for some of those right now, in fact.  Peepers, you have any potatoes on paw?  Don't forget the butter, okay?  Oh, and the nip, too!

Okay, let's try this one.  You say wild flowers.  I say, weeds!  Now that's the ticket. 

You guessed it.  Ol' peepers has been up to her hijinks in the garden once again.  What a peep.

Yesterday, peep #1 headed out into the garden.  Okay, she headed out into a particularly weedy part of the garden.  Please note the word, weedy.  With her, she had a little plastic container.  I asked myself, what is she up to this time?  I had to ask.  Curiosity got the best of me.  I shouldn't have asked, though.  I should have known better.  Curiosity gets you nothin' but trouble and nowhere but first in line to the train that heads directly to Headache City.  MOUSES!

I watched the peep while she was doin' this and doin' that around some queen anne's lace and then the goldenrod and finally, some white asters.  I wasn't sure what she was doin' but it looked like trouble.  Trouble with a capital T, if you know what I mean. 

Then she headed over to where there are some grasses.  Not grass like the fresh green stuff upon which I like to munch.  This grass was tall and brown and had all gone to seed.  I've been watchin' that grass, myself.  I've been half expectin' to see some farmer drive into my yard with a big ol' tractor and start hayin' or something.  Yeah, that's how bad that grass over by the compost pile, is.  MOUSES!

Finally, the peep returned to the safety of the proper garden with the proper flowers that are not weeds.  I peered into that container of hers and found that there were some seeds.  Not a lot but there were a few.  "You collectin' weed seeds now, peepers?" I asked.  Of course, I was joking with the peep.  No one in their right mind would be collectin' seeds of weeds, right?  WRONG!  That's exactly what she was doin'.

In fact, she was apparently sorry that she hadn't been able to collect even more of the things.  Most of 'em aren't ready to be collected yet, she says. 

Well for mousin' sakes, peepers.  Chop 'em down before they get all over the place!  Do I have to tell you how to do everything?  MOUSES!

To the container of her weed seeds, she added some seeds from my garden.  My proper garden.  She found a whole bunch of seeds for matricaria, shasta daisies and heliopsis.  Now, those are proper flowers, I thought.  Why she was dumpin' them into the same container as the weeds though, was beyond me.

Eventually, she headed out into the front yard and went all the way down to the edge of the road.  There's a ditch there that has some stuff growin' in it.  Not a lot of stuff, mind you.  Ol' peepers has planted a lot of things in there but, over time, a lot of those things have died.  It's sort of a dismal attempt of the peep's to pretty up the ditch.  Considering the fact that there's only a flower here and a flower there and not much else, it's not a very good attempt at beautification.  In fact, I graded her once on it.  She failed.

Next thing I knew, ol' peepers was flingin' seeds here and flingin' seeds there.  She was flingin' seeds all over the place.  She was like a mad woman, I tell you.  She was crazy.  Crazier than a squirrel makin' nut pies!  Yes, there were some flower seeds in that mix but there were all those weed seeds, too.  'They're weeds!" I cried.  "Weeds, I tell you.  Don't spread about all the weeds!  PEEPERS!  WHAT ARE YOU DOIN'?  Have you gone nuts or somethin'?"

Then the peep turned to me and said, "I'll add more of the goldenrod and queen anne's lace when they're ready."

I almost fainted.  My jaw dropped and I stood there, staring at my peep, tryin' to keep my balance on all four of my paws.  I think I ate a fly.  Not bad, those flies.  It was just little one.

The peep seems to think that all those weeds are wildflowers.  I, Nerissa the cat, still believe them to be weeds.  Like I said before...  You say wildflowers.  I say, weeds!

I also have some issues with her choice of colours.  Heck of a lot of yellow and white stuff goin' on there, not to mention the browns of the grasses.  What about red?  What about blue?  We need some red and blue flowers in that mix and hopefully, they will be flowers...  proper flowers...  and not weeds.

Anywho...  I'm thinkin' I need to book the peep a first class ticket for the train that goes to Squirrel Town.  I'm sure I've heard that there is one of those in Nova Scotia.  Not many trains, though.  Most of the trains disappeared with the dodo bird.  Too bad, you know, 'cause trains are nice.  Trains are neat.  Trains are fun!  And trains are sweet.  Just last week I watched a show on television with ol' peepers 'bout a lady who vanished on a train.  Eventually, they found her, though.  Unlike the dodo bird and the Nova Scotian trains.  MOUSES!

g is for geocatology

Summer holidays are nearing an end here in Nova Scotia and soon all the kiddies will be heading back to school.  This got me to thinking about perhaps taking a course or two myself.  I figured I could do the bulk of it on-line, avoiding any nasty and unnecessary car rides.

I thought long and hard about what I would like to study.  Should I be looking at courses in the arts, the humanities or the sciences?  Cat Lit 101 sounded pretty good but then, so did Peepology and no, peepology has nothing to do with litter boxes.  It is the study of the species known as the peep.  Of course, some advanced instruction in Kitty Physics could prove useful.  As many of you know, teleportation and time travel are two great interests of mine.  My brother Seville and I practically pioneered the field of applied egg beater-whisk time-travelling teleportation physics .

What to do...  what to do...

Finally, I decided that I should wet my paws in the university environment with a bird course.  I've heard peeps talk of them.  Of course, I originally thought they had to do with birds but apparently, they do not.  These bird courses are the easy ones.  The ones that can give a kitty's mind a little rest while still gaining a university credit.  What a plan!

I immediately decided upon the study of Geocatology.  I already had a working knowledge of the subject so I thought, how hard could it be?

Apparently, more difficult than I imagined.

First of all, I had to find a university offering courses in geocatology.  It wasn't easy.  It was, in fact, impossible.  I scoured the course offerings of every major university in both North America and Europe and found nothing.  Not a single one offered even an introductory course in the science.  MOUSES!

Geocatology appears to be a very understudied course of study.  I can't imagine why.  It's incredibly important to both cats and peeps alike.

Geocatology is the study of where the cats are. 

On a large scale, we cats want to know what are the most cat friendly nations and habitats on the planet.  Peeps, too, require such knowledge.  Large-scale geocatology can be applied to any industry dealing with cats.  You work for a pet food company?  You're gonna wanna know where the cats live 'cause that's where you're going to sell your pet food.  You manufacture cat toys?  You're gonna wanna know where the cats live 'cause that's where you're going to sell the cat toys.  You write mysteries about cats helpin' peeps solve crimes?  You're gonna wanna know where the cats live 'cause that's where you're going to market your books.  The list goes on and on.  Surely you can see the usefulness of such a science.

Geocatology can also be applied on a much smaller scale and this is the part that really fascinates me.  In a household such as mine, there may live twelve cats but at any given time, where exactly are those twelve cats?  This element of geocatology is incredibly complex.  Results can differ from hour to hour.  Even minute to minute.  One moment, a cat is asleep on a bed.  A moment later, that very same cat is at the door.  By using the magnetic power of the opening of a tin, all twelve cats are in the kitchen.  Turn on a vacuum or bring out a pet carrier and they all disappear.  Where are they?  The study of geocatology would give you the insight necessary to find them.  Such a useful science.

Why do the birds sing?  Who let the dogs out?  Where is the cat?  These are some of the greatest unanswered questions of all time.  I can't help you with the first two but if I could get my paws on a couple of good geocatology textbooks, I might be able to answer the third. 

Perhaps I, Nerissa the Cat, should write a textbook or two on the study of geocatology.  I'm sure I could find a little spare time in my hectic schedule of blogging, supervising the peeps, napping and working on the further development of applied egg beater-whisk time travelling-teleportation physics.  Then, perhaps after I've written a text or two on the subject, I might offer a course myself.  I bet all those Ivy League schools will be lining up to have me as one of their professors.  Yes, I can see myself now...  Harvard, Princeton, Oxford, Dalhousie...  they'll all be calling me.  They'll all be wanting me, Nerissa the Cat, to teach on their campus.  Professor Nerissa the Cat.  I LIKE IT!  Don't you?

f is for floccinaucatinihilipilification

Now that's a mouthful, for sure.

Yeah...  f is for floccinaucatinihilipilification.  That has just about gotta be the longest word in the dictionary.  At least, it will be just about the longest word in the dictionary if we all start usin' it and the good folks over at Oxford and Websters give it the credit it's due and you know...  put it in the dictionary.

Floccinaucatinihilipilification is a noun derived from that other noun of which you may or may not of heard...  floccinaucinihilipilification.  Yeah, that's the one.  Floccinaucinihilipilification - all twenty-nine letters of it - means the habitual act of estimating things as bein' worthless.  Some might say that the word floccinaucinihilipilification is itself a little worthless but I say that any word usin' up twenty-nine letters has to be worth something!  I mean, the ink alone...  But can you imagine bein' a kid in a spelling bee?  MOUSES!

My newly invented word, floccinaucatinihilipilification, has a similar meaning to that of floccinaucinihilipilification but it's a little more specific in nature.  A little more specific to certain species.  Floccinaucatinihilipilification is the act of peeps habitually believing that the opinions of cats are worthless.  If you're a cat of intellect, I know you know what I mean.

Have you not noticed how some peeps out there think they know better than us cats just because they're peeps and we're cats?  They think that peeps are better than cats.  That peeps know more than cats.  That peeps are smarter than cats.  They think that as a peep, they can utter the most ridiculous, nonsensical opinions and that those opinions will automatically be better than ours simply because they're peeps...  and we're cats.  MOUSES!

Unfortunately, this does seem to be a common occurrence in the blogosphere.  I've encountered it, numerous times. 

Once, I left a comment on this peep's blog because she was practically begging for comments to be left.  I kind of felt a little sorry for her.  Serves me right for feelin' a little compassion for my fellow earthling 'cause in the next post she posted, she complained that only one person had left a comment and that that person wasn't a person but rather, a cat!  Yeah, she complained 'cause I left a comment in the very same post in which she complained that no one would leave comments.  That doesn't even make sense.  As a cat, I understand that.  MOUSES!

Don't worry, I'm pretty sure she doesn't read my blog so she'll never read this.  I doubt my mentioning her act of floccinaucatinihilipilification will be hurtin' anyone's feelings.  On the other paw, I have to say that my feelings were pretty hurt when I read her second post.  You know...  the one in which she insinuated that because I was a cat, my comment didn't count. 

I didn't comment on any other blogs for a week after that incident.  I thought, why bother?  I'm only a cat.  No one wants to read my comments, anyway.  MOUSES!

Floccinaucatinihilipilification occurs outside of the blogosphere, too.  I suppose it occurs everywhere where there are cats and peeps in close proximity to one another. 

I happen to know for a fact that a number of my peeps' friends never read my blog.  Why, you ask?  You needn't for there's no question as to why.  These friends admit it freely.  It's because I'm a cat.  They come right out and say it, never concerning themselves that they might be hurtin' my peeps' feelings or mine.  These friends of the peeps don't read Nerissa's Life for one reason and one reason only.  They don't read my blog because it's written by a cat.  That makes them floccinaucatinihilipilificators, for sure.  MOUSES!

And I doubt that floccinaucatinihilipilification has been limited to the twenty-first century, either.  Floccinaucatinihilipilificators have probably been around for millennia .  History is probably filled with floccinaucatinihilipilificators of all sorts.  Terrible, really.  Terrible how floccinaucatinihilipilification has been, and is still, so rampant.

To sort of quote the great literary giant, Shakespeare... 

     Hath a cat not eyes?  Hath a cat not paws, senses, affections, passions? ...  Are we not warmed
     and cooled by the same winter and summer?  ...  If you prick us, do we not bleed?  If you tickle
     us, do we not laugh?  If you poison us, do we not die?  And if you wrong us, shall we not
     revenge? 

Okay, I'm not really into the exactin' of the revenge part but the rest of it holds true. 

Just because I'm a cat doesn't mean I don't see stuff.  Just because I'm a cat doesn't mean I don't know stuff.  Just because I'm a cat doesn't mean I can't figure stuff out. 

And just because I'm a cat doesn't mean I don't have feelings.  Just because I'm a cat doesn't mean you won't hurt those feelings if you treat me badly by assuming that my opinions are worthless.  Just because I'm a cat doesn't give you the right to make those kinds of assumptions in the first place.

My opinions are not worthless.  On the contrary, they're worth a lot.  I tackle all sorts of topics on my blog.  Topics from which mere humans shy away.  I've even done battle with Mr. Anonymous Spam.  Done battle and won, I might add.  Haven't seen the sucker in weeks.  I'm pretty sure he's still out there, lickin' his wounds. 

And it was I, Nerissa the Cat, who explained the laws of gravelly to the peeps at the Department of Transportation.  One post of mine and the very next day they were out there fixin' the problem.  Granted, the problem has since resurfaced however, I cannot be held accountable for the fact that the peeps at the Department of Transportation are not capable of understanding the laws of gravelly.  Not my fault.  It just isn't.

As a cat, I don't assume that the opinions of peeps are worthless.  I listen to their opinions, think them through and then judge their worth.  I should think that decent and responsible peeps would show the same consideration for us cats.  Many of them do.  Actually, probably most of them do.  Unfortunately, in every crowd, there's always at least one floccinaucatinihilipilificator.  MOUSES!

hemming and hawing

So I hemmed and I hawed.  Then I hawed and I hemmed.  Do I?  Can I?  Should I?  Will I?

I mean...  just how many times can a cat blog about the foolish things his peep does in the garden before all the other cats out there get bored hearing about it?  Then I realised that a cat can blog ENDLESS times 'bout the foolish things his peep does in the garden if the peep in question continues to insist upon doin' foolish things.

So this is what she did this time...

We used to have two hedges by the driveway but a couple of years ago, ol' peepers got rid of one although, truth be told, I see bits and pieces of it tryin' to come back.  Those hedges are tricky characters, you know.  They're real tricksters, for sure.  Gotta keep a watchful eye on 'em and tell 'em who's boss and whatnot.  Never trust a hedge.  But I digress...

Yesterday morning, peep #1 announced that later that day she was gonna trim the remaining hedge by the driveway.  The hedge she kept.  I'm thinkin' she might be reconsidering that decision right about now.  Actually, I'm thinkin' she might be reconsidering both decisions.  The first one, to keep the hedge and the second one, to prune it yesterday.

It was about three o'clock in the afternoon when ol' peepers started hauling stuff out of the garage.  First came them the electric hedge trimmer thingy and then the outdoor electrical cords.  Then she started attaching things here and plugging in things there.  Right off the bat I could tell I was in for a show.  I watched from inside, however.  I know from experience that those electrical hedge trimmers are super loud and, as you all know, I have very sensitive ears.

Anywho... the peep revved up her trimmers and went at it.  Things were running smoothly...  at first.  She started over at the far end of the driveway, down by the road, where the hedge was shorter.  I don't know why it was shorter down there.  Just was.  Actually, it still is.  Yeah, I never said my peep was good at trimming the hedge.  Only said she was gonna do it.

So she trimmed that hedge this way and that way.  From right to left and then from left to right.  For a moment I thought she was wavin' a flag out there or somethin' but then I realised that no, she was just waving around the trimmers.  Then she went up and down the sides of the hedge.  Side to side and then from the ground, up.  Never from top to bottom, though.  Think that's a safety thing or somethin'.

At one point, a neighbour passed by and called out, "Be careful with those things!"  Scared the livin' daylights out of my peep.  NEVER STARTLE A PEEP WEILDIN' ELECTRICAL CUTTING EQUIPMENT.  Just sayin'...

So the far end of the hedge got trimmed up.  So far, so good.  Well...  I wouldn't say it was good but it'll do, I suppose.  It'll have to do.  I'm not planning on fixin' it.

Turns out the far end of the hedge was merely the opening act.  With the arrival of the peep at the near end of the hedge, the main show was about to begin so I settled in and made myself comfortable.

I immediately saw that she was gonna have a problem.  I think ol' peepers saw it, too. 

You see, although not a short person, she's also not a tall one.  She says she is of average height; five feet, four and a half inches.  To be honest, I've noticed that peeps who are truly of average height, don't make such a fuss over that extra half-inch like she does.  I think that might mean she's short.


But more to the point, the hedge was tall.  At least, it was taller than her.  Still is, in fact.  And in some places it's a lot taller than her.  Remember, not once did I ever say ol' peepers was good at the trimming of the hedges.

So she managed to trim the sides, all right.  She even managed to trim up the outer parts of the top but there was still this strip of tall stuff left down the centre of the top of the hedge.  Let's just say it's a good thing I invented that ol' saying, friggity-frack der quack-der-knack!  You know the one.  The one for when MOUSES! just isn't enough.

Then she hauled the step stool outside and climbed up on that.  This allowed her to trim up a little more of the top of the hedge but there was still some left.  Clearly, she couldn't get the step stool close enough to the hedge to actually help her.  The ground there was just too uneven and the stool was gonna topple.  What to do...  what to do...

Also, the trimmers kept on jammin' up on her.  Little pieces of hedge were gettin' stuck in its teeth and every time that happened, the peep had to climb down from the step stool, unplug the trimmers and remove the bits of hedge.  I heard MOUSES! bein' uttered, more than once.

Finally, peepers gave up on the step stool.  I think she realised she needed to get closer to the problem at paw so she tried to become one with the hedge.  Yeah, you heard that correctly.  She practically disappeared inside the thing.  She pushed herself into it until it almost swallowed her up.  That was when ol' peepers made the most progress.  Piece by piece, the disobeying bits of hedge toppled over.

Finally, ol' peepers proclaimed that the hedge had been trimmed.  It wasn't perfect, mind you.  Not even close but good enough for her, I guess.  It looked like it was gonna rain and she knew she had to finish up with the electric trimmers before that happened.  So she started hauling everything back into the garage and the house.

Perhaps from her vantage point she couldn't see them.  Perhaps she didn't want to see them.  But I could see them.  I could see those two branches sticking up there in the middle of the tallest part of the hedge.  I can still see them, in fact.  I can them while I'm sitting here at my computer, writin' my blog and lookin' out my office window.  Plain as day, they are.  Should I tell the peep?  Should I mention her mistake or just let her discover it all on her own.  Hmmm...

And should I mention that other thing I noticed?  Should I mention that I noticed how she left the car windows partially open yesterday?  Or should I just let her discover that on her own, too?  She'll probably figure it out when she goes to use the car later today 'cause...  well...  after she finished sort of trimmin' up the hedge...  it poured.  MOUSES!

the sweet smell of success

We have a winner!  That's right...  A WINNER!  A winner who won a bag of kitty litter from the good peeps at The World's Best Cat Litter company.  Yoo-hoo!  YOO-HOO!!!

As you might recall, I did a product review of this kitty litter about a week and a half ago.  Now, we had some problems.  I had to extend my initial deadline for entries by a day or so.  Why?  Well apparently, I had been somewhat vague about my timing of the draw.  I said I'd do the draw in a week.  Well the peep came up with this big ol' speech 'bout how my deadline was ambiguous.  Was I gonna do the draw a week after I wrote the post?  After I published the post?  After the feeds and whatnot went out from the post?  MOUSES!  So I extended the deadline until midnight, my time, on Thursday. 

Clear sailin', right?  Wrong.  You cats out there sure did get my peep all frazzled up into a frazzly dazzly mess and I must say...  THANK YOU!  It was quite entertaining and I enjoyed it very much.  Really, I did.  I'm not bein' facetious or anything.  It was almost as good as Bird TV. 

I wanted to make absolutely sure that no one who wanted to be in the draw missed out.  When I went through all the comments on Friday morning, there were a couple cats who didn't say if they lived in the US or not.  Didn't know if they were eligible for the draw.  So I said to the peep, "Peepers!  Prepare my teleportation device."  Then I remembered that my teleportation device is on the fritz.  Has been ever since that whole nipped-up Zealandia adventure.  So then I said, "Peepers!  You figure out where these cats live while I take a nap, okay?"  And the peep got right on it.

However, I did not take that nap.  I pretended to do so but in actuality, I watched the peep gettin' all frazzly dazzly as she tried to figure stuff out.  What fun!  WHAT FUN!  I had a great time watching her doin' research.  You see, she's not good at it like me.  It's not her forte...  OBVIOUSLY.  That's why she got into such a frazzly dazzly state when she tried.  I loved every minute of it.

Finally, we had a list.  There were 56 comments in total and out of those comments, there were 26 entries.  The excitement was mounting.  I thought, who shall draw the winning name?  Who?  WHO???  An owl?  No, silly...  I don't know any owls so owls were out.

I was still pondering who would have the honour of drawin' the winning name when I saw the peep gettin' one of those darned carriers ready with a clean blanket.  Hmmm...  better make my escape, I thought and I made a dash for it.  But as luck would have it, the carrier was for someone else.

That would be 'bout the time peep #1 grabbed my sister Beatrice and gently SHOVED her into the carrier.  Poor Bea.  She never saw it coming.

But all was not lost for I had my answer and I cried, "Peepers!  Have my Doctor Teresa draw the winning name."  What a plan...  WHAT A PLAN!

So all the names were put into a hat.  Nope...  scratch that...  no hat.  All the names were put into a plant pot.  Yeah, I know...  pretty low tech not to mention weird.  I mean, who does draws out of plant pots?  MOUSES!   But anywho...  the plant pot with the names went off to the hospital with the peep and my sister Beatrice.

There, they met up with my doctor, Doctor Teresa.  She looked at my sister and sure enough, Beatrice had a sore leg.  It was all infected and everything.  Ol' peepers had been cleanin' it every day with stuff used for such things but it wasn't gettin' better.  On the contrary, it suddenly got much worse so thus, the appointment with the doctor was made. 

Ol' peepers was feelin' pretty guilty that she hadn't taken my sister to the doctor earlier but other than the sore on her leg, Beatrice wasn't showin' any signs of bein' ill.  She was eatin' and her leg didn't seem to be hurting her.  Dr. Teresa said there was no way for the peeps to have known how bad the sore was - and bad it was 'cause Beatrice came home yesterday with staples and everything.  But still, I think a little guilt on the peeps' part right 'bout now is appropriate, especially if that guilt should happen to lead to extra servings of the Fancy Feast for us all.

We think someone bit Beatrice but she's not tellin' who.  My bet is on Nosey Neighbour Cat but you never know.  I suppose it could have been anyone.  It wasn't me, though.  I can assure you of that.  How could I?  I have no fangs, remember?

So Dr. Teresa said that Beatrice would need to spend the night in the hospital.  Poor Bea...  she had no warning.  Dr. Teresa is a super-duper good doctor and everything but still, no one wants to spend the night all alone in hospital, if you know what I mean.

But before Beatrice was carted off into the other room, my doctor agreed to do me the honour of drawing the winning name for the kitty litter.  Bet you were wondering if I was ever gonna get to this part, huh?  Well I wanted to keep you all in suspense.  Did it work? 

Dr. Teresa reached into the plant pot, mixed the names up a bit and pulled out one piece of paper.  She then opened the paper and cried aloud, "Melinda from Texas!" 

So there we have it.  Melinda from Texas is the winner of the bag of the World's Best Cat Litter from the peeps over at the World's Best Cat Litter company.  CONGRATULATIONS MELINDA!  You should be receivin' your kitty litter soon.

I wanna thank everyone who took part in my first ever giveaway.  I had so much fun doin' this and hope to do something similar, again.  It was a huge success for my first giveaway, if I do say so myself.  Mmmm....  the sweet smell of success.  Don't you love it?

it's really not nice to lie

It's not, you know.  It just isn't.  It's really not nice to lie.

Personally, I never lie.  Never.  Not even once have I lied.  Never even thought about it.

What's that peep?  You say I have lied?  No...  I'm pretty sure you're mistaken 'bout that.  Yes, yes...  I know...  I have been known to be naughty.  Yeah, yeah...  I know...  just the other day...  But hey, I didn't lie about it.  I admitted everything.  I admitted that I had been naughty.  I even bragged about it.  That's right...  I bragged about my naughtiness.  You had full disclosure and I NEVER LIED.

You see, this is where peeps go wrong.  They do something they shouldn't do and then they lie about it.  Usually what they've done is bad and I suppose that that is why they wanna cover it up.  They wanna cover up their badness or at least, their bad behaviour.  I guess they're ashamed of it or something.

What peeps need to understand is that when they lie about doin' whatever they shouldn't have done, it makes everything worse.  I think they think their lies will be believable and no one will question them.  I think liars think all the other peeps are really stupid.  The liars seem to think they're smarter than everyone else.  It just goes to show you, people who lie, lie to themselves the most.

But you know what they say.  They say, two wrongs don't make a right.  And if two wrongs don't make a right, what about three wrongs?  Or four?  Or even five?

'Cause that's what happens, you see.  One lie leads to another and then another and then one more.  The lies never end.  The lies pile up like fleas on a red carpet. 

Lying peeps try to use even more lies to dig themselves out of the holes made from the original lies but the thing is, lies aren't for diggin'.  If you wanna dig yourself out of a hole, you need a shovel and some good strong bracin' material and the stamina to dig yourself a tunnel with a gradual incline.  Lies don't help with any of that!  If anything, lies are gonna 'cause your tunnel to cave in.  Yup, the weight of all those lies will cause everything to collapse like a house of cards because you see, lies are really heavy.

Lies weigh everything down.  They even weigh down the shoulders of the peeps telling 'em.  Lies are so heavy that peeps telling 'em are likely to be walking around all slouched and whatnot.  They can't hold their heads up in public anymore 'cause the lies are weighin' so heavily upon their shoulders.  They can barely even lift their eyes.  Have you ever noticed that when peeps lie, they won't look straight at you?  Yup.  A sure sign of a liar, that.

Sometimes you'll find a rogue liar but more often than naught, you'll find them congregatin' like fleas in a circus.  When I first noticed this phenomena I thought that perhaps the liars were simply attracted to one another however, with further study I realised that this could not be the case.  I mean...  with all those lies floatin' around the liosphere, how would the liars ever be able to keep track of which liar was tellin' which lie?  That would lead to chaos, for sure.  Chaos of parliamentary proportions.  No...  these congregating liars must all be party to the same lie. 

You see, lying is contagious.  It's true.  The lie originates in the mind and heart of the primary instigator and then spreads throughout the ranks of the liars like mist on a moor.  Secondary and tertiary peeps are forced to create new lies to cover the tracks of the primary liar, protecting his or her reputation, in order to avoid scandal.  When discrepancies are discovered in the first lie, the ranks close in with more lies tryin' to seal those cracks before anyone notices.  It's a never-ending cycle and the lies and number of liars grow, exponentially.  Not to mention their noses.

It can all be very confusing however, eventually, the truth surfaces.  The truth always surfaces.  Truth is light, you see.  The truth finds its way up through the cracks of the lies and floats to the surface, revealing all.  And once the truth is out, it shines down upon the lies and the liars, exposing them to the world.

So the question must be asked.  If one does one thing that's a little naughty, is it not best to simply admit the naughtiness right there and then?  Come clean, so to speak?  Sure, you did a bad thing and you might even be punished for it but if you try to cover it up with lies, you end up doin' even more bad things.  Lying is bad, you see.  Lying is naughty.  You're not supposed to lie.

You know, other peeps might even forgive the naughty peep for the original bad behaviour but they'll never forgive him for the lies.  They'll never forget.  They'll never forget those lies.  The act of lying sticks to you like sap from a tree and take it from me, tree sap is almost impossible to get out of your fur.  I try to avoid such stickiness at all costs.

We cats understand that lying is an unacceptable form of behaviour and that's why we don't do it.  On the other paw, we don't really need to.  I mean...  if I do something naughty, it almost always comes across as cute.  Cats are cuteness, personified, you see.  Peeps just aren't.  They don't even come close.  Guess that's why some of them think they have to lie.  I guess they think that the only things that will cover up their bad behaviour are lies.  Hmmm...  Could be. 

When I wanna cover up my bad behaviour, all I need do is twitch my whiskers or touch my nose with my tail or even just sit there in my house, looking adorable.  Peeps just can't pull that kind of cuteness off.  That must be why they lie.  They shouldn't, though.  They really shouldn't 'cause...  it's really not nice to lie.

look before you leap

...And for mouses' sake, think before you snip.

So I'm sitting in my office the other day, minding my own business and havin' a little nap at the computer, when I hear a bunch of stompin' and door slammin'.  Peep #1 comes storming into my office, grumbling about something.  Grumble this...  grumble that...  At first, I thought she might have been workin' on an audition piece for Grumpy Cat but quickly realised, she doesn't have the necessary tail for that role.  Doesn't have the whiskers, either.

The first peep was in a right ol' mood.  I had to make a decision.  Do I hop up onto her lap and provide a little comfort or do I cover my ears with my paws and hope for the best?  I chose the latter, of course.  But she went on and on and on.  What a pain in the tail that peep can be.  Finally, I decided to hop up onto her lap after all and let her tell me what ailed her.

Apparently, the second peep had been let loose with the secateurs.  Let loose in the garden.  History tells us that this could not possibly be good news.  The second peep knows nothing 'bout nothing when it comes to the garden.  Why peep #1 left the secateurs in plain sight of the second peep is beyond me.  Just askin' for trouble, that was.  MOUSES!

Well ol' peepers had this plant out by the back door.  Please note the word had. 

She didn't plant it there.  It grew all on its own.  Yes, this pretty little British wildflower called agrimony had taken root all by itself.  The peep was super happy about this because where she had planted agrimony, agrimony hadn't grown.  She had planted some in the front yard but of all the ones she planted, only one had survived and it was lookin' kind of on the straggly side.  Lookin' pretty sad, if I say so myself.  Still is, in fact.

But out of nowhere appeared this little guy by the back door.  Peep thinks a seed must have dropped or something when she was starting the plants 'cause it quite literally, appeared out of nowhere.  It appeared just like magic which is weird cause the peep is not a magician.  She doesn't have a black hat or a cloak or a bunny or anything.  Not even a magic wand.

Anywho... this plant by the back door grew to be big and strong and healthy and started to bloom.  Ol' peepers checked on it every day.  She was so happy 'bout this plant growing there.  She was gonna collect the seed from it when it was ready so that she could plant up some more for the front yard since the only one growin' there was all sad and straggly lookin'.

Well you know what they say 'bout best laid plans.  They say, the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.  Actually, they say, "the best laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft a-gley."  Well, when I say they I really mean Robert Burns but what did this Burns character know, anyway?  I mean...  the guy wrote a poem to a mouse.  MOUSES! 

On the other paw, he practically wrote the book on what was gonna happen with this plan of the first peep and the lettin' loose with the secateurs of the second.  So I guess Mr. Burns must have known something!  Actually, it was kind of like he was seeing into the future.  Wow.  Hope he wasn't makin' any plans 'cause...  well...  you know.

Anywho...  long story short...  the plant is no more.  Well, it's still there but it has no flowers.  Peep #2 cut the flower stalks right down to the ground.  Again I say, MOUSES!

So I let peep #1 tell me all about her little plant and then I asked her about the important stuff.  The important stuff like, has peep #2 been anywhere near my nip?  Then I remembered, oh yeah...  peep #1 totally screwed up the growin' of my nip, this year.  Seriously, I have got to get myself some new peeps.

I said to the peep, "Calm down.  First things first...  HIDE THE SECATEURS."  Then I watched as she tucked them safely away in a drawer in my office.  Peep #2 will never find them there.  They're in a secret spot that only the first peep and I know.  Then I said, "Go get my brother Rushton.  I have to tell him something.  It's important."  The peep obediently, obeyed.

"Rushton, my man," I said.  "Don't let peep #2 anywhere near that mat of yours on your tummy.  You know the one.  The one you haven't allowed peep #1 to remove?  The one that you won't let ol' peepers near with the comb?  Yeah...  that would be it.  Well you had better let her remove it now 'cause if that second peep of ours sees it, more than the mat might get removed, if you know what I mean.  Peep #2 has been accused, tried and convicted of snippin' without thinkin' and you don't want a peep like that anywhere near you.  At least not when you're sportin' a mat."