the past, the present and the pumpkin pie

"PEEPERS...  prepare the teleportation device!"  Hmmm...  on second thought, scratch that.  This will be an adventure about which the peep need never know.  Never, never...  not ever.

"SIVVERS...  prepare the teleportation device!"

"On it, Nissy.  We're almost ready for teleportation.  I'm just making the final adjustments to the whisks now.  Plymouth, Massachusetts, 1621.  That the right date?"

"Not quite, Seville.  I did some research on the subject and the pumpkin pies that were eaten at the very first American Thanksgiving were nothin' like the pumpkin pies that peeps eat today.  There was no crust or anything.  Can you believe it?  MOUSES!  We need to head back to the 1700s or so.  Any time before 1796 will do."

"Why 1796?" asked Seville.  "You pick that date out of a hat or something?"

"I told you, I did research.  I found a page from an old cookbook that contained a recipe for pumpkin pie.  One with a crust and everything.  That book was published in 1796 so we need to go back in time before then.  A few years before then would be great.  Aim for 1790 or so.  That should give us plenty of time."

Nissy shoved the page from the cookbook into Seville's paw.  "Here, you'll need this.  It should help with the locational co-ordinates.  Make sure we teleport to the right place."


"On it, bro.  Let me see...  Yup, yup...  yup, this'll work.  I'll squish the paper into the egg beater right about here.  Done."

"Excellent work, Seville."  Nissy snatched two bags from the kitchen floor and placed them carefully into the frying pan before climbing in, himself.  "Come on Seville.  Time's a wastin'!"

Seville began to rev up the egg beaters.  "Grab a whisk, Nissy and start whisking."

The kitchen lights flickered momentarily before everything went dark.  Suddenly, bright explosions of light flashed before the cats' eyes.  The small perpetual calendar Seville had attached to the frying pan dashboard started to spin wildly.  2013...  2001...  1978...  1902...  1841... 

Over the sound of  howling wind, Seville cried out to Nissy, "YOU HAVE CONTROL OVER THAT CALENDAR?  BE READY TO STOP IT AT 1790!"

"GOTTA GO BACK JUST A TAD BEFORE THEN," Nissy hollered back, slamming a paw over the gizmo when it reached 1775.  "ARE WE IN THE RIGHT GEOGRAPHICAL AREA?  IS THIS NEW ENGLAND?  HOLD US STEADY IN THIS TIME WHILE WE FLY OVER THESE FIELDS.  CAN YOU HANDLE IT ON YOUR OWN?"

"GOT IT COVERED, NISSY."

The wind was creating terrible turbulence and the two cats found it difficult to hold onto the edges of the frying pan.  They were being buffeted back and forth between conflicting time lines.  Nissy held onto the pan with his back paws while using his front ones to empty out the contents of the paper bags he had secreted into the teleportation device earlier.  "PLANTING THE NIP SEED NOW," he cried out to Seville.  The nip seed was dispersed over the fields below by the winds of time.  "NOW GET US BACK TO 1790!" he yelled to his brother.  "PUT US IN REVERSE!"

Seville grabbed the frying pan handle and swung it over to his left before yanking it upwards.  The teleportation device came to a screeching halt and the two cats were thrown into the field of catnip that lay before them.  Nissy breathed in deeply.  Ahhh...  the sweet smell of nip.  "The nip seeds grew well," he smiled smugly.

"How did all this nip get here?" asked Seville?  "You just planted it a few seconds ago."

"Au contraire, mon frere," Nissy grinned.  "I planted the seed in 1775.  We're in 1790 now."

Nissy breathed in deeply again.  How he would love to just hang out in this field for a few hours but there were things to be done.  They couldn't afford to get nipped now.  "Come on Sivvers," he said, hauling his brother through the field.  "Part one of my plan is complete.  Now for part two."

The boys trudged through the vast field of nip.  European nip that had now been successfully introduced into the Americas by none other than Nissy, himself.   What an accomplishment for a little sterling silver tabby cat.

Before long, they came upon another field.  One in which pumpkins grew.  Pumpkins that were perfectly sized for using in pies.  Nissy knew then that his plan was going to succeed.  This was clearly pumpkin pie making territory.  All that needed to be done now was to make a few adjustments to the traditional recipe for making those pies.  A few adjustments to the recipe that would one day be published in the cookbook he had found in the local library's archives. 

After walking another half hour or so, they spotted a small house off in the distance.  The boys instinctively knew that this house was their destination.  In this house, the future of pumpkin pie would change forever.

Although near exhaustion, they ran toward the house as quickly as their paws would carry them.  They stopped short at the door.  Nissy knocked, politely.  A woman named Amelia answered but looking only straight ahead, she didn't see the two cats down at her feet.  She glanced both to her right and to her left, never noticing Nerissa and Seville padding softly into the house and hiding behind various pieces of furniture.

Night fell and the woman retired to bed.  Nissy prodded at Seville who had fallen asleep under a large chair.  "Come on Sivvers.  This is our chance.  We've gotta help Amelia with her pies."

Nissy found Amelia's notes for her upcoming cookbook and got to work right away.  "We just need to make a few changes to this recipe," he told his brother.  "Just a few changes here and there before the manuscript is sent off to the publisher."

Grabbing a pen on the writing desk, he began to write.  "Hmmm...  cloves?  Nah, scratch that.  We'll replace the cloves with nip.  Nutmeg?  Nope, don't need that either.  We'll replace that with nip, too.  Cinnamon...  I definitely think that could be replaced with the nip."  Nerissa scratched out the unnecessary ingredients and quickly did some mental calculations as to how much catnip would be needed and wrote it down.    "Okay, we've got pumpkin, eggs, sugar, cream and a cup of nip."

"A cup?  That sure is a lot of nip, Nissy," mentioned Seville.

"Don't worry, Sivvers.  The effects will all cook out...  MOUSES!  We don't want that to happen.  Hmmm...  we had better add another quarter cup of fresh nip to the whipped cream that goes on top," Nissy muttered before finishing his task.  He tucked the recipe back into Amelia's notebook and placed the notebook exactly where he had found it an hour before.

Seville sniffed the air.  "Nissy," he began.  "I'm sure I smell some yummy smells coming from the kitchen.  I think that Amelia lady roasted up a turkey or something.  Do you think we could have a bite or two before heading back to 2013?  A cat doesn't wanna teleport on an empty stomach, if you know what I mean."

"I know exactly what you mean, Seville and you're absolutely right.  Let's go enjoy a little snack.  It's a long walk back to the egg beaters and we need to keep up our strength."

Munching on roasted turkey, the boys thought about all they had accomplished on their adventure.  Nissy knew that if all went as planned, they would return to a new version of the year 2013 where pumpkin pies were filled with cream and catnip and not ruined with all those spices that couldn't possibly equal the brilliance of the world's greatest herb of all time...  nip.  Oh, they had done well on this adventure.  So very, very well.  Thanksgiving dinners would be changed forever but changed for the good.  Most definitely changed for the good.  It would be a very HAPPY THANKSGIVING for everyone.

little glass houses

People who live in little glass houses really shouldn't be throwin' stones...  or somethin' like that.

Hmmm...  little glass houses.  I don't know anyone who lives in a little glass house.  Not a real glass house, anyway.  Most houses 'round here are constructed from wood and stone and bricks and whatnot.  The only parts made from glass are the windows.  Oh, and there are probably some glasses in the cupboards and maybe on the peeps' noses but that's not the same as bein' a house made from glass, I should think.

Of course, plants sometimes live in glass houses.  My peep sure would like a proper glass house for her plants.  But even those are sometimes made from things other than glass these days.  And who would ever dare throw a stone at a house filled with plants?  Why, that would just be rude.  It would be mean, too.  Especially if those plants got all frosted and killed 'cause of those stones and all that broken glass.

Anywho...  I'm really bloggin' about a different kind of glass house today.  I'm bloggin' about a metaphorical glass house which, ironically, contains no actual glass.  MOUSES!

I'm bloggin' about the metaphorical glass house in which my stalker, Mr. Anonymous Spam, lives.  Yeah...  ol' spammy spam-spam is back.

Mr. Anonymous Spam has been leavin' a bunch of comments on my blog again.  The other day, there were three or four of the things.  A couple more, the day before that, too.  But a month or more ago, he left a real doozy of a comment.  It was such a doozy, I wrote it down and saved it 'cause I just knew I would wanna blog about it sometime.  Well, my friends, that sometime has arrived.

A month or so ago, I awoke to find this...  this...  this comment awaitin' moderation on my blog.  Ol' Mr. Spammy wrote, "of course like your web site but you have to check the spelling on quite a few of your posts.  A number of them are rife with spelling problems and I to find it very troublesome to inform the reality on the other hand I'll certainly come back again.  Visit my web-site:  couponing"

Yup, that's just what that ol' spammer guy wrote.  I didn't change a thing except for removing his website address.  Didn't think I needed that.  Didn't want it, either.

Well Mr. Spam, I have news for you!  First of all, let's talk about the issue of the spellin'.  Hmmm...  you're not perfect, you know.  You're not perfect at all.  For instance, I believe you spelled the word "to" incorrectly.  I think you actually meant, too, although to be honest, I'm not positive 'cause quite frankly, your comment didn't make a whole lot of sense.  Your problems appear to go way beyond that of issues with spelling.

You find it troublesome to inform me the reality of what?  The reality of all my spellin' mistakes?  I wasn't quite sure 'cause you didn't really specify what that what was.  I had to guess.  And I assume it is you who likes my blog although you never really said.  Again, I was left guessin'. 

And a comma or two might come in handy there, you ol' spammy spammer.  A few commas might make it easier for cats and peeps to understand what you're actually tryin' to say.  I have to admit, my punctuation is never perfect but that's 'cause I like to use a colloquial style of writing.  My very own colloquial style.  That's why I sometimes use punctuation that might be frowned upon by a grammar professor at Oxford or Cambridge or someplace like that but that's just my style.  And, I like to start sentences with "and" and "but" a lot, too.  But I try to do it sparingly.  And only when it fits in with my style.  Actually, that last and and but were somewhat gratuitous.  They really weren't warranted.  I could have rolled that all into one sentence but I was tryin' to give you an example, Mr. Spam.  Yes, indeedy, I was.

All I can say is this...  at least MY blog makes sense...  sort of...   well, most of the time.  MOUSES!

But back to the spellin'.  I've said it before and I'll say it again...  a lot of the words I use on my blog are not yet found in spell checks and dictionaries and whatnot.  That's not my fault.  It's not my fault that the dictionary writers have not kept up with the my latest inventions.  That's right...  I invent words.  I invent 'em all the time.  That's what we innovative writer types do.  When there isn't an appropriate word available, we invent one to suit the occasion.  Not my fault the dictionary peeps can't keep up.  Not my fault at all.

And let me just remind you that the inventor of the word always determines the spellin' of said word.  It's a fact.  I should know.  I should know 'cause I am an inventor of words.

Perhaps Mr. Spam, it is the dictionary peeps to whom you should be sendin' your comments.  Perhaps you could offer them a coupon or two for some of my newly made-up words.  Or perhaps you could take advantage of some of those coupons yourself.  Do you happen to have any coupons for books on the subject of grammar?   Just wonderin'.  Just thinkin' you could use one.  Just suggestin' it might be an good idea.  'Nough said.

MOUSES!

techno duffer

As many of you already know, my peep is a bit of a techno duffer.  It's true.  Everyone says so.  Well actually...  they don't say she's a techno duffer.  Usually they say she's a technologically impaired duffer.  I came up with techno duffer as I needed somethin' shorter.  You know, 'cause I was havin' to type technologically impaired duffer so many times and there are a lot of letters in technologically impaired duffer.  That's a lot of letters to type.  Techno duffer saves me about eighteen key strokes.  Eighteen key stokes every time I use it.  That's a lot of key strokes and a great saving, for sure.

So you're probably wonderin', what has that ol' peep of Nissy's done this time?  I'm so glad you asked.

My blog post last Sunday went up kinda late and it was all the peep's fault.  That's right, my post went up late because my peep is such a big ol' techno duffer.  She's a techno duffer, for sure.

It all started early last week when I told Ol' Peepers that I would be needin' a picture of those paw-made nip mice that Poof won in the giveaway for my blogoversary.  Had I known those pictures were gonna cause such problems I would never have asked but I didn't know so I did ask and I, Nerissa the Cat, ended up payin' the price.  MOUSES!

Anywho...  Ol' Peepers took a paw full of pictures for me but didn't do anything else with them.  She just took the pictures and then put the camera away.  Now for cats whose peeps are more technologically-minded than my peep, this would not have been a problem but for me, it was, 'cause my peep is...  you know...  a technologically impaired duffer.  In other words, a techno duffer.

Sunday mornin' rolled around and I was busy at my desk, doin' some last minute edits on my blog post.  Little stuff like spell checks and whatnot.  Then I called out to the peep, "Oh Peepers!  I need those pics.  You know the ones.  The pics of Poof's nip mice.  I need to add one of 'em to my blog.  Hop to it, peep.  Time's a wastin'.  Oh yeah...  please?"

Obediently, the peep scurried over with the camera.  Okay...  maybe she didn't actually scurry but eventually, she did find her way over to my desk, camera in paw.

She clicked on some stuff, plugged the camera into my computer and turned it on.  The camera, I mean.  I had already been usin' the computer, if you remember so obviously, the computer was already on.

Next thing I know, I hear Ol' Peepers murmur, "Hmmm..." and then say, "MOUSES!"  Never a good sign.

I hopped up onto her lap to get a better look.  Right there before my eyes I saw the words...  import 745 pictures.  MOUSES!  Just how many pictures had the peep taken of those nip mice? 

I looked up at the peep.  You nuts or somethin'?  You been into the nip?  Crazy thoughts raced through my mind.  Crazy thoughts of my peep bein' crazy.  Crazy, crazy, crazy!  Crazier than a squirrel makin' nut pies.  Crazier than seven hundred and forty-five squirrels makin' seven hundred and forty-five nut pies...  EACH!

Next thing I knew, Ol' Peepers had imported seven hundred and forty-five pictures.  There were seven hundred and forty-five new pictures filed away in my computer.  Or were there?

Time would tell that she had imported only a paw full of new pictures.  Yes, the pictures of those nip mice were there but so were a whole whack of older pictures.  There were pictures of daffodils.  There hasn't been a daffodil bloomin' in my garden since April or May.  There were pictures of peonies.  The peonies bloomed in June.  My gosh, the peep had messed stuff up royally this time.

You're probably wonderin' why Ol' Peepers had gone ahead and imported all those pictures.  She must have known that most of them were repeats.  Again, I am so glad you asked.

The peep didn't know what else to do.  A techno savvy peep would probably have been able to figure out a way to get rid of all those extra pictures before importation.  But if you recall, my peep is anything but savvy when it comes to technology.  That's 'cause she's a techno duffer of the highest order...  emphasis on the duffer.  You might as well put an emphasis on the highest order, too.

So then I had to watch while Ol' Peepers slowly went through all seven hundred and forty-five pictures, deleting all the old ones that were repeats.  There were a lot of repeats.  Seven hundred and forty-five pictures minus one paw full of new pictures is a heck of a lot of pictures to delete.  About seven hundred and forty or so.  MOUSES!

The process of deletion took a while.  I had not one but two naps durin' that process.  They were short naps, I admit, but naps, nonetheless. 

Eventually, Ol' Peepers got everything sorted and I had my pictures from which I chose one to use on my blog.  Yes...  one.  One out of seven hundred and forty-five.

The fact of the matter is, I have THE WORST IT SUPPORT IN THE HISTORY OF THE BLOGOSPHERE.  I challenge anyone to find a peep more technologically duffered than my peep #1.  The dufferness of my peep cannot be challenged, I tell you.  My gosh, I even had to come up with a name for her.  That's gotta prove her duffy dufferness, for sure.  MOUSES!

And as a result of my peep #1 bein' such a techno duffer, my Sunday post went up late.  It was past noon, before I got it up.  I'm very sorry 'bout that.  I hope no one was disappointed.  But if you were, you now know who to blame.  You now know to blame that technologically impaired duffer I call my peep.  That's right...  techno duffer #1. 

Again I say, MOUSES!  And I can say it 'cause it's true.

can we talk?

"Can we talk?"

That's what Ol' Peepers asked me yesterday evening.  I thought to myself, I guess we can.  I know I can.  I'm hearin' you talkin' so I assume you can, as well.  Don't know why you're suddenly wonderin' if you can no longer speak.  You been into the human nip?

And there, my friends,  was the crux of the matter...  the nip.  Not human consumption but rather, cat consumption.  MOUSES!  I had been caught.

As you know, I celebrated my second blogoversary a couple of weeks ago and as I wanted to celebrate it in style, I had a giveaway.  That's right...  I gave away a variety of paw-made nip mice.  As you might also know, nip mice contain the nip.  Kind of makes sense when you think about it.  that's why they're called nip mice.

And by the way, about that giveaway...   a lovely little kitten named Poof won the prize and those mice are currently winging their way to him via the postal service, as we speak.  CONGRATULATIONS POOF!  I just know you're gonna love those mice.

How do I know Poof is gonna love 'em?  Well, 'cause I kind of got into the nip when the peep wasn't lookin'.  I NEVER TOUCHED POOF'S MICE.  No, I went straight for the bag containing the main stash of the nip.  Can you really blame me?  I mean...  it was nip!  Good, fresh - well, freshly dried, organically grown nip.  Mouses that stuff was good.

Anywho...  my little foray into the nip is what caused Ol' Peepers to ask, "Can we talk?"

I explained to the peep how I simply couldn't help myself but at the same time, I told her how she needn't worry 'cause obviously, I had had enough restraint and good sense to not go after the toys in the giveaway.  But that bag of nip...  that bag of nip...  that bag of nip was callin' my name.  Really, it was.  I heard it and everything.

"Nissy," began the peep, "there's nothing wrong with a little nip now and then.  All cats deserve to have a little nip.  I just want to make sure you don't have a problem with it."

Peepers be jeepers!  I don't have any problem with the nip except, maybe, a lack thereof.  Although truth be told, the peep is pretty good at keepin' me well supplied.

I fully admit that I like my nip:  fresh, dried, in toys, straight up.  You show me the nip and I'll show you one happy kitty.  But I've never been a mean nipster.  I've never lashed out at anyone after indulgin' in the stuff.  An addiction is not an excuse to be mean, I told the peep.  Not that I am addicted or anythin'.  But if I were, I still wouldn't go around bein' nasty or mean.  In fact, if anything, I'm even nicer after a little indulgence.  Probably because basically, I'm a very nice cat.  No nip is gonna turn me mean.  You've gotta be mean to start with for the nip to magnify the meanness.  The nip has gotta have somethin' to magnify.

Oh sure, I've been known to get the munchies after nippin' but honestly, I think that's a perfectly normal response.  I've never done anything rash after enjoyin' the nip.  I've never fired anyone 'cause of my nippin' and believe you me, I have reason to fire some peeps.  I, Nerissa the Cat, have the worst IT support in the history of the Blogosphere.  The peep is...  the peep is...  there are no words for what the peep is when it comes to IT support other than her bein' a technologically impaired duffer and that's puttin' it rather mildly.  And I just wanna mention that sayin' that is not mean.  It's simply fact.  I believe the peep would even agree with me on that.  Clearly, nip has never made me mean or anything of the sort 'cause I haven't yet gotten rid of the peep.

That was when the peep brought up the subject of the tins.  MOUSES!  I had been caught again.

She wanted to know why some of the other cats were upset with me about the tins of the fanciest of the feasts.  And it wasn't just my brothers and sisters who were upset.  It was that nosey neighbour cat, too.  Apparently, he had been tellin' on me.  Apparently, word was out that it wasn't always him gettin' onto the kitchen counter and knockin' stuff down.

Well my friends, at that point I had to fess up.  I explained to the peep that I had, at times, gone into a tin or two of somethin' super tasty that was left open on the counter but I had never actively blamed nosey neighbour cat or any other cat, for that matter.  I simply hadn't admitted to my actions when others had been accused.  I also pointed out that I was not the only one doin' such things.  Others had been involved, as well.

The peep told me I had to apologise to nosey neighbour cat along with any of my brothers and sisters to whom I might owe an apology or two.  APOLOGISE!  Oh...  mouses. 

That's when I had to explain to Ol' Peepers how some of the other cats weren't acceptin' my apologies any more.  Apparently, after the first couple dozen apologies, subsequent apologies start comin' across as insincere.  Yup, it's true.  You apologise and apologise and apologise for allowin' a little misdirected blame to continue and before you know it, other cats stop listenin'.  They say they've heard it all before and aren't interested in hearin' it again. 

I'm gonna have to change my tactics.  Mix it up a little.  Hmmm...  maybe I could sue.  Sue 'em for tellin' on me.  It's a possibility.  Can you sue someone for tellin' the truth about you?  Gonna have to think about that one.  I'm thinkin' not but you never know.  Stranger things have happened.

chaos theory

No one has seen chaos like I have seen chaos.  Believe me, it is true.

Chaos Theory...  the study of nonlinear dynamics.  Nonlinear, huh?  Is that like when a cat like me, walkin' in a straight line from one room to the next, does a back flip with a twist seemingly out of nowhere?  I'll tell you what came out of nowhere.  That fly came out of nowhere.  I had to catch him.  It had to be done.

Peeps have been talkin' about this Chaos Theory for years.  For more years than I have been alive.  It's a science.  It's a science that studies random events and shows how they only seem to be random.  Shows that in fact, these random events may be predictable from simple deterministic equations...   or maybe not.  I think that the maybe not part may just be part of the chaos.

I guess what they're tryin' to say is that a lack of order is only an apparent lack of order and that even though it appears to be orderless, the system containing the randomly disorderly events does, in fact, obey certain rules.  That no matter how complex a system is, it still relies upon some sort of underlying order.

Chaos Theory is supposed to be synonymous with dynamical instability.  But is it synonymouse?  And what the mouses is dynamical instability anyway?

Chaos Theory also says that a very small event can have super big repercussions.  Some guy named Edward Lorenz discovered that events can be incredibly sensitive to initial conditions.  Apparently, this Lorenz dude was one of the first peeps to experiment in the area of chaos.  Hmmm...  experiment in the area of chaos.  I'm pretty sure that my brother Seville has been applying Lorenz' theories when workin' with his whisks.

Lorenz found that even teeny tiny differences in initial conditions could make it impossible to predict past and future outcomes.  Interestin'...  This differs from Newtonian physics 'cause with Newtonian physics, one assumes that nearly perfect predictions can be made.  The more precise the measurements, the more precise the prediction.  But back to the chaos.

Anywho...  Lorenz came up with this idea he coined, the Butterfly Effect.  He suggested that a butterfly flapping his - or her - wings in Brazil could cause a tornado in Texas.  I don't know much about tornadoes and I've never been to Brazil but let me tell you 'bout somethin' that happened a little while ago at my house.

I call this, The Whisker Effect.  I have intentionally not named most of the participants in the kerfuffle in order to protect their identities.

Out on our sunbathing area which is the little roof outside the kitchen window, a cat sniffs a bug.  That bug tickles said cat's whiskers.  That first cat jumps backwards, bumping into a second cat.  The second cat fizzes at the first who ignores the fizz but a third cat is spooked by the sound and turns tail, running into the house through the open kitchen window.  The third cat jumps onto the kitchen table to escape the fizz of the second cat but lands on the flyers carelessly left there by a peep and skids across the tabletop.  The third cat regains her footing but the flyers go flyin', tumbling down onto the floor and, onto a fourth cat's head as I had been peacefully sleeping below that table.  The fourth cat is startled - of course - and jumps up, running into the family room but has to jump over a fifth cat who is asleep on the family room floor near its entrance way.  The fifth cat is awakened and fizzes at the fourth cat but it is a sixth cat who takes the fizz personally even though it's not directed at her, resulting in that sixth cat running out of the family room at high speed and knocking over a water dish on the way.  Meanwhile, a seventh cat has been wondering about the cause of all the fuss in the kitchen and the family room and has wandered over to check things out only to be splashed with water from the water dish upset by the sixth cat.  The seventh cat freaks out by the unexpected shower, spins around and sends a bowl of dry kibble flyin'.  The bowl of dry food skids across the kitchen floor leaving a trail of kibble behind.  An eighth cat - and that would be Seville -  calmly walks over to the trail of kibble and starts muching' even though he's not supposed to eat that kind of food 'cause he's supposed to eat his special special as the peep calls it, 'cause of his issues with the crystals.  Talk about chaos.  MOUSES!


From this example, we may find that the simple act of a bug ticklin' the whiskers of a cat can cause chaos and result in Seville eatin' the wrong kind of kibble.  Again I say, MOUSES!

And where exactly were the other cats in my family?  I don't know.  They were seemingly uninvolved in this particular chaotic mess of chaos.  Or were they?  Perhaps they actually started the whole thing by tellin' that bug to tickle those whiskers.  Or maybe they were just out chasin'
                                                         butterflies.

my dad, Jacob

A week ago, yesterday, I lost my dad.  My dad, Jacob.

We don't know exactly how old my dad was but think he was gettin' up there in years.  The peeps first spotted him a couple of months after I was born and he was fully grown then.  Not just barely fully grown they say.  They think he could have been five or six when he first appeared on the scene, ten and a half years ago, so that would make him at least fifteen.  Maybe sixteen.  Maybe even older.  And, of course, havin' lived out on the streets for a while, well...  that would have aged him even more.

My dad was the neatest dad, ever.  Of course, he was a cat like me.  One of the many reasons he was so great.  He wasn't feral like me, though.  My dad had been abandoned.  That made it easier for the peeps to get him inside so even though they met my dad after they first saw me, they had him inside the house before I decided to come live with 'em, too.  For as long as I've lived in this house, my dad has lived with me.  This last week has been the first time we've ever been apart for more than a few days and I miss him a lot.

But I don't want this to be a sad post.  There's enough sadness in the world these days as it is and I really don't want to add to it today.  So instead, I'm gonna tell you 'bout some of the happy and funny things about my dad.  That okay with everyone?

Let's start with how my dad was trainin' for the Olympics.  He always said he was gonna go compete in the Olympics some day but never actually made it there.  The main reason for this, I believe, is that the sport in which he wanted to compete had not yet been invented.  Hmmm...  that's not quite right.  It was invented...  invented by my dad.  Just not yet accepted as a sport with the International Olympics Committee.  MOUSES!

My dad invented the running long-high jump that occasionally, for higher scoring, included acrobatics.  He was very good at it.  He was fearless.  My dad would come runnin' into a room - any room - and race across the floor, jumping onto whatever piece of furniture stood in his way.  Usually, it was the coffee table onto which he would jump.  Never did he bother to look to see if anything was on the coffee table.  Nope.  He just ran and jumped, landin' on whatever might be there.  Whatever or whomever...  The rest of us cats soon learned not to hang out on the coffee table when my dad was in training.  One thing for him to land on a book or somethin' but quite another thing for him to land on one of us.  Hmmm...  my side smarts just thinkin' about that time when...  well...  you get my drift, I am sure.

Occasionally, my dad would do the death-defyin' double jump.  This would involve jumping onto the coffee table before taking a second massive leap, catapulting himself onto a peep on the couch.  The peeps would cheer him on when his landings were successful.  Okay, they weren't so much cheers as they were screams and cries but volume wise, they could have been cheers.  Just not really cheery in spirit, if you know what I mean.

No cat in my family has ever done the double jump twist with a successful peep landing as well as my dad, Jacob.  He would have been a gold medallist, for sure.  Next thing you know, his picture would have been on boxes of cereal and he would have been famous.  Too bad 'bout the sport not yet bein' recognised by that ol' committee.  Too bad, for sure.

We think that when my dad developed Pulled Tail Syndrome, it may have been the result of an Olympic training sports injury.  That was a scary time for all of us.  We thought we were gonna lose him, then.

One night, two or three years ago, my dad came inside dragging his hind legs behind him.  They weren't hurting him or anything but he couldn't use 'em.  He couldn't walk on them at all.  As you can imagine, this was a bit of a problem.

Seemingly without pain, my dad dragged himself into the kitchen for food and water and then back into the family room to sleep.  The peeps stayed with him all night, knowing that first thing in the morning, they would all be heading over to the hospital.  They figured my dad must have had a stroke or something and that the end was near.  They wanted to spend that last night with him, giving him lots and lots of love and attention.

First thing in the morning, the peeps took my dad to the hospital.  Well, all three doctors put their thinkin' caps on and had a massive consult and the final diagnosis was Pulled Tail Syndrome.  I had never heard of it myself and the first thing I wanted to know was just who had pulled my dad's tail.  Apparently, Pulled Tail Syndrome does not always involve the pullin' of a tail.  We now believe that my dad was trainin' for the Olympics outside on the veranda, slipped or somethin' on the railin' and fell backwards onto the concrete floor, landin' awkwardly on his tail or somethin' like that.

Anywho...  the next morning my Doctor Teresa called Peep #1 and told her, "He's one hundred percent better.  I put him down on the exam room floor and he took off across the room!"  That was my dad.  He wasn't gonna let a little ol' sports injury interfere with his trainin' schedule or anything.  Another night in the hospital and some pills and he was back up and training like nothin' had ever happened.

When my dad wasn't trainin', he could often be found snuggling up to the peeps or one of us cats.  I spent many an hour, nestled in next to him on the couch in the family room.  He spent a lot of time with my sister, Tobias, too.  Toby loves havin' someone lick the top of her head for her, probably because that's one of the most difficult spots for us cats to wash.  Usually, she pesters me to do such things but my dad was always willin' to fill in when necessary.  He treated Toby like she was one of his own kittens.  He was a lovin' dad to us all.

Well...  maybe not always.  My dad could get jealous.  I remember my dad gettin' awfully jealous over that cat named Willoughby.

Willoughby was a cat who lived a couple of streets over in our subdivision.  Officially that's where he lived but he was always over at my house, honin' in on my territory.  Eventually, we just gave up and accepted him into the fold.  The peeps did manage to convince Willoughby's parents to get him neutered but when they realised that a year later he had never been back to see the doctor for shots, the peeps gave up and took him themselves.  He was always at my house, eatin' my food and cuddling up with my peeps anyway.  As far as he was concerned, he was one of us.

My dad, however, disagreed.  One day, Willoughby was in the livin' room gettin' chin scritches from a visiting peep.  Now you have to understand, my dad had sort of staked his claim on this particular visitin' peep.  They were buddies.  Well, my dad took one look at Willoughby gettin' all that attention and he was off.  He tore through the living room, soared through the air up onto the coffee table, immediately jumped from there onto the couch landing near the visitin' peep and Willoughby and attacked Willoughby like he had never attacked anyone before.  There was blood everywhere.  A trail of blood was left as Willoughby high-tailed it out of the livin' room.  To be honest, I don't quite remember what my dad did after that.  Probably snuggled up to the visitin' peep or something.  My own personal peeps were busy tendin' to Willoughby and cleanin' up the blood.

I always wondered if that attack had been motivated purely by jealousy or if perhaps, my dad had gotten into some bad nip.  He did like his nip just like I like mine.  But I've never seen a cat react to the nip like that before and I've never seen one do so since so I'm thinkin' that maybe my dad was just jealous.  Every cat is allowed to be a little jealous now and then.

Really though, that vicious attack was quite out of character for my dad.  Normally, he was a kind and lovin' cat, always making time for the rest of his family.  He was a great dad.  He was a wonderful dad.  He was the best dad ever and I'm gonna remember him, always.

I never lied

What's all this about?  Why are all these peeps here with cameras? 

I stomped down to the end of my driveway, assaulted by camera flashes, flashin' in my face.  "Off my property!" I cried.  "Shoo...  Shoo...   Boogie on out of here before I call the police."

"Nerissa the Cat, what do you have to say for yourself?" cried out one reporter.  "Your readers want to know the truth.  What do you have to say about the allegations of the existence of a video of you, allegedly enjoying a nip mouse?"

"There's no video.  There was never a video.  It's all a made-up story, made up by someone tryin' to make me look bad.  It's that nosey neighbour cat, I tell you.  He's had it in for me since day one.  Lies, lies!  It's all a bunch of lies.  A giant smear campaign, designed to discredit me."

The reporter looked down, briefly checking his notes.  "But your Peep #1 has confirmed she is in possession of a video.  A video consistent with the allegations made by this nosey neighbour cat."

MOUSES!  I spun around and gave the reporter the ol' stink eye.  "There IS no video, I tell you.  Never was one.  NEVER!  And even if there was, it can't prove anything.  You can't prove there was nip in that mouse.  There could have been anything in that mouse.  It could have been filled with parsley.  Or even oregano."

"So," began a second reporter, "you now admit that there is a video."

"I ADMIT NOTHING.  Now get off my property this instant.  You're trespassing.  Shove off!  SHOVE OFF!" I cried, pushing a reporter and nipping and his heels.  "Take that you big ol' oaf.  Do I need to use my claws on you?"

The reporter stumbled backwards but thankfully, didn't fall 'cause I really didn't need to add assault charges to my rap sheet.

At that moment, my brother Seville arrived on the scene.   "Leave Nissy alone.  He says there is no video so clearly, there's no video.  Niss," Seville hissed, "there is no video, right?"

"Of course not," I answered angrily.  "Now, if you'll all excuse me, I have places to go and people to see."  Stumbling over an acorn on the driveway, I headed over to the car.

"Are you on nip right now?" asked a third reporter.

"Out of my way!" I hollered.  I'm looking for my car.  I mean, my car keys.  I'm lookin' for my car keys.  Seville, you know where they are?"

Like a hound dog, the third reporter kept asking me questions with the first bein', "Have you forgotten you have no car keys?" and the second bein', "Have you forgotten you're a cat and don't drive?"

"Leave him alone," ordered Seville.  "Leave my brother alone.  There's no video.  There's no nip mouse.  There's no nip."

Out of nowhere I suddenly said to the press, "I wanna see this supposed video with me supposedly enjoyin' a mouse full of nip."

"But Niss, there is no video," Seville reminded me.

"Well...  actually...  there might be a video...  maybe... possibly.  There might have been a time when...  just let me see the video.  I'll use the video to prove my innocence.  I said it before and I'll say it again, you'll never prove there was any nip in that mouse."

Seville sat back on his haunches.  "I'm confused.  What do you want me to do?  Should I go get the video from the peep?  They're sayin' she has the video.  Maybe I should ask the peep to resign from bein' our peep?  Maybe we can fire her."

"No, no, no..."  and I shook my head.  "Okay, here's the story.  There might be a video.  I might have had a nip mouse or two but I still say you can't prove there was any nip in the mice although if there was, there was only the one mouse or at least, only the one time.  I don't quite remember...  I was sort of nipped up."

The reporters looked at one another with confusion in their eyes.  One spoke up and asked, "So now you're admitting that you did lie about the nip mouse..."

"I never lied," I said, cutting him off.  "You just never asked me the right questions.  Sivvers, get me some nip, will you?" 

I sat down in the middle of the driveway, shaking and mustered up some tears.  "Okay, here's the real story.  I have been known to enjoy the nip.  I'm sorry if I've appeared in public all nipped up.  I shouldn't have done that.  But I never lied to anyone and I'm not going anywhere.  I'll keep on writing Nerissa's Life as long as peeps out there will read it."  I closed my eyes, trying to forget about the scandal to which I had just admitted.

"Nissy, sweetie.  What's the matter?  Are you having a bad dream?" asked Peep #1 as she scooped me up into her arms before kissing the top of my head.  "What's wrong, Nissy?"

I looked up at my peep with big eyes.   Dream?  I was dreaming?  There were no reporters hangin' out at the end of our driveway, dogging me with questions?

"You had a big day yesterday, celebrating your blogoversary.  With all those treats you ate and the nip you sniffed, it's no wonder you're having bad dreams.  You were exhausted and fell asleep listening to the news."

I squirmed out of the peep's arms and settled back down on the couch, resting my head on a knitted mouse filled with catnip.  For just a moment I looked up at the peep, questioningly.  She understood exactly what I was asking.

"Don't worry, Nissy.  There's nothing wrong with a cat enjoying a little catnip.  It's not like it's an illegal substance or anything," she laughed lightly and kissed me on the back of my head before giving my chin a little tickle.

I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep but this time, I dreamt only of the nip mice.  Dozens upon dozens of glorious nip-filled mice.  There were no cameras or reporters.  There were no awkward questions bein' asked.  Just sweet dreams filled with mice, filled with the nip.

MOUSES!

Yoo-hoo!  YOO-HOO!!!  IT'S MY BLOGOVERSARY!

Did you hear?  DID YOU HEAR???  It's my second blogoversary.

That's right, exactly two years ago today, I wrote my very first blog post.  Wow, time sure does fly when you're havin' fun.

And now my friends... kick back in your seats, have a little nip of the nip, indulge in the fanciest of the fancy feast and let's have some fun 'cause today is a day to celebrate, for sure.  'Cause did I tell you?  IT'S MY BLOGOVERSARY!

Wow, so much has happened durin' the past two years.  Too much for me to mention everything here but there is one really, really big thing that I wanna celebrate 'cause it's the epitome of celebratory...  celebratory...  stuff to celebrate.

MOUSES! is a word.  Could you believe it?  I've invented a lot of words over the past two years but only one - so far - has made it into the Facebook and Blogger spell checks.  Unfortunately, I am still waitin' to hear back from the peeps at Oxford and Websters about gettin' MOUSES! into their dictionaries but I haven't given up.  I'll never give up.  I'll get MOUSES! in there eventually even if I have to teleport over to their offices, myself!  MOUSES!

So, in keepin' with the whole MOUSES! theme...  we're gonna celebrate my blogoversary, MOUSES! style.

First of all, I enlisted the help of the peep to create a brand spankin' new award just for the occasion and you guessed it...  the name of the award is...  MOUSES!

Acceptin' the MOUSES! Award is super easy.  Easy peasy, as they say.  You just have to do four things and they're all easy peasy things to do.

Firstly, you need to thank the blogger who gave you the MOUSES! Award.  Secondly, you need to post the award somewhere on your blog.  Thirdly, when acceptin' the award, you need to use the word MOUSES! in a sentence.  For this requirement, you may also choose to use one of the many variations of MOUSES! if you so desire.  You know...  like...  mousin', mouses, moused-up, etc...  Finally, you need to pass the MOUSES! Award on to two or more bloggers.  You can pass it along to as many as you like but please try for at least two so that the award is spread around the blogosphere and doesn' fizzle out or anything.  And you'll wanna pass the award on to bloggers whose work you read regularly and would therefore, sure as mouses recommend.  See what I did there?  Yup, you spotted it.  I used a derivation of MOUSES! in a sentence.  Lead by example, I say.  Lead my example...

Allow me to now announce the first ever recipients of the new MOUSES! Award.  PEEPERS...  drum roll, please... 

- Herman at It's a Wonderpurr Life
- Sammy at onespoiledcat
- Savvy at Savannah's Paw Tracks
- the staff' at Dash Kitten
- Spitty at Spitty Speaks
- Katie at Katie Isabella
- the Kitties Blue at The Cat on my Head
- Sparkle at Sparkle the Designer Cat
- Katie & Waffles at GLOGIRLY
- Nellie at Cat from Hell
- Flynn at Our Life by Eric and Flynn
- Mario at Mario's Meowsings
- Layla at Cat Wisdom 101
- Austin at CATachresis
- Texas at Texas, a Cat in New York
- Timmy at Tomcat Commentary by Tim
- Purrla at Singapore Kitty
- Speedy at Speedy the Cheeky House Bunny
- Maxwell, Faraday & Allie at A Tonk's Tail
- the crew at Colehaus Cats

But the fun doesn't end there.  No sir, the fun is just beginning 'cause...
WE'RE HAVIN' A GIVEAWAY!

That's right, I got the peep to whip up some knitted mice along with a couple fabric biff bags and she's in the process of stuffing 'em with nip as we speak.  Ol' Peepers used autumnal colours and they're really quite pretty and, of course, the nip is of the highest quality available.  Totally organic and everything.

Now, who out there would like to win some mice stuffed with the nip?  I know I would.  What's that Peepers?  Oh yeah...  I'm not eligible to win 'cause I'm supposed to be the one giving them away.  MOUSES!

Anywho...  I know there are some cats out there who would love a selection of paw-made nip mice so let's get this giveaway started.

The contest is open to all cats (and dogs, bunnies, peeps, etc...) WORLDWIDE.  You don't have to be a blogger to enter.  ANYONE can enter.  All you have to do is leave a comment on this blog post with your name, making sure I have a way to contact you if you're the winner.

You can earn extra entries, too.  Yoo-hoo!  YOO-HOO!!!

Earn an extra entry if you like my page on Facebook (if you haven't already) AND share 'bout my giveaway there.  Just leave a separate comment here on this blog post sayin' you did so.

Earn an extra entry if you follow me on Twitter (if you don't already) AND tweet 'bout my giveaway there.  Just leave a separate comment here on this blog post sayin' you did so.

And earn one more extra entry if you leave a comment on this blog post and in that comment, you use MOUSES! in a sentence.  You can use the original MOUSES! or any of its variations such as mouses, mousin', moused-up, etc...

All entries must be in by midnight Monday November 11th, Atlantic time.  I'll be doin' the draw on the 12th.  MOUSES!