What is it with peeps? Have you ever noticed how they just can't seem to make up their minds? You give them one thing, they want something else. You give them that something else and they want the first thing, again. Like I said, they just can't make up their minds.
And peeps would have you believe that it's we cats who can't make up our minds. It's true. Remember that T.S. Elliot dude? Remember what he wrote about the cat named Tugger who was into the rum? It was something like that. Anywho... that Elliot dude wrote all about some cat in a house who wanted a flat but when he got a flat, he wanted a house. Then he started talking 'bout mice and rats.
I'm kind of thinking he might have been projecting his own indecisiveness on us cats. The proof might even be in his own writing. One moment, he's all happy to be talkin' about housing and in the very next sentence he switches over to the topic of fine dining. I'm sure that's the sign of a peep who is unable to make up his own mind. MOUSES!
And you know, my peep #1 is right in there with the indecisive nature of her species. One moment she's happy to be a peep. Next thing I know, she's singing songs from CATS. Again I say, MOUSES!
One day, a week or two ago, the peep did some laundry. The sun was shining and there wasn't a cloud in sight. Now, you'd think that if someone wanted to hang laundry out to dry, a sunny day would be a good thing. I mean, wouldn't you? My peep was complaining 'bout everything being dry at the very moment she was hanging up her laundry.
I thought to myself, the woman must be nuts. But even my crazy peep deserves to get what she wants once in a while so I called Mother Nature and ordered up some showers. Well you should have heard the complaints when the peep's almost dry laundry was getting rained on that afternoon. There's just no pleasin' some people. Know what I mean?
For over two weeks, ol' peepers was complaining 'bout the lack of rain. I admit, it was pretty dry. Where grass had once been green, it was now brown. Where it had been soft and squishy under one's paws, it had turned hard and crunchy. The flowers were all droopy and looked ever-so-sad. Pathetic is a word that comes to mind. Even the weeds were complaining. Everything out in the garden was cryin' for rain.
I told the peep she had better give the plants a drink or two. This, of course, required her to haul out the hose and the sprinkler and whatnot. Apparently, the hose is very heavy. From the grunts emanating from ol' peepers, you'd think it weighed a tonne... or more! I sure did have one grumpy peep on my paws.
Oh, the complaints! You should have heard 'em. Finally I just put my paws over my ears and told the peep to get crackin' before the plants died of thirst. I reminded her that she'd be complaining even more if they did, in fact, die of thirst. That got her back to the task at paw. Sometimes, one must use a very firm paw with one's peep. It had to be done and so I did it.
At one point, the peep set up the sprinkler in the front yard. She put it where it would water the driest of the grass and the flower beds by the front door. Then she went to water the plants on the veranda. Apparently, the peep's positioning of the sprinkler was not the best. It was a little too close to the house, I think. Oh, it watered that really dry grass and the flower beds, all right. It also watered the peep! That's right. The peep watered herself. The water from the sprinkler came right onto the veranda and onto the peep, while she was watering those potted plants.
Cats are so much better natured than peeps. Did you hear me complaining about how the sprinkler managed to soak the chairs on the veranda where I like to relax? No. All you could have heard me doing was laughing at the peep 'cause... well... that's what I was doin'. It was really funny. The water from the sprinkler - I am told - was a little on the chilly side. Hehehe... Good times.
Anywho... another round of complaints ensued.
I guess Mother Nature was upset that her little shower on the laundry had not been appreciated 'cause late last week, she got all weird and cranky. The skies would suddenly darken and mean lookin' clouds would roll in. Peep was thinkin' the rain was on its way but none of it came. It was very weird. It did that two or three times, I believe.
Then, finally on Sunday, it rained. Actually, it didn't just rain. It poured. Severe thunderstorm warnings and everything. And thunder, it did. I thought for sure someone had built a ten pin bowling hall in the skies above. Either that, or a caterwauling practise hall in which peeps like my peep could gather while other peeps came to dance wearin' super heavy wooden shoes. The rain came down in torrents. Bucket after bucket after bucket of the stuff fell and there was even more forecast for the next few days.
I thought to myself, ol' peepers will be happy. She's gettin' the rain the garden needs. There will be no more hose and sprinkler hauling around the yard.
But you know peeps...
"Oh, it's raining on Labour Day Weekend. That'll ruin everyone's picnics and barbequing. What a shame." Yes, that is exactly what the peep said.
You give her sun, she wants rain. You give her rain, she wants sun. Once more I say, MOUSES!