tropical island paradise

Trying to roll the flower pot had proved futile.  Being wider at one end than the other, it continually insisted upon travelling in circles.  Half dragging, half pushing the pot, Nissy eventually made it into the kitchen.  "MOUSES!  Hey Sivvers, help me with this, would ya?"

Seville sauntered over to Nissy, giving the flower pot a good sniff.  "What's up with the pot, Nissy?  You planning on planting some nip?"

"Something like that," Nerissa answered.  "We're goin' on an adventure."

"Excellent!" declared Seville.  "Where to?"

"My brother, my man...  we're headed to a tropical island paradise.  SIVVERS...  PREPARE THE TELEPORTATION DEVICE!" Nissy cried.

Nerissa continued, "There's more talk about the Turks and Caicos Islands joinin' Canada, Seville. Those islands are supposed to be a real tropical paradise.  Sunpuddles and sand as far as the eye can see.  You and I are gonna do a little investigating.  Check those islands out.  Get a paw or two in on the ground floor and plant the seeds that if peeps there wanna join Canada, they should join Nova Scotia, too.  Now, help me get this pot into the flying frying pan."

"That why we're packin' the flower pot?" asked Seville.  "Is it because we're going to be planting the seeds?"

Nerissa rolled his eyes and shook his head with exasperation.  "Nah, the pot is for a plumie.  We're gonna bring back a plumeria tree from the Turks and Caicos Islands for Peep #1 as a prezzie. Heard they grow well there."

Working together, the two brothers managed to get the flower pot into the teleportation device. Grabbing a few snacks for the trip, Nissy climbed in, followed by Seville.  Moments later, the cats were teleporting due south, towards the tropical paradise of the Turks and Caicos Islands.

On the way, Nerissa explained to Seville how the Premiers of Saskatchewan and Prince Edward Island were both hinting they would like the Turks and Caicos to join one of their provinces.  "They were tweetin' stuff 'bout it all over the place," Nissy said, "but anyone lookin' at a map of Canada would see immediately that a union with Nova Scotia makes the most sense, geographically."

"And think about all those snowbirds that travel from Nova Scotia to Florida and Mexico and whatnot. Bet they'd much rather travel to the Turks and Caicos Islands if those islands were part of their own province.  Apparently tourism is a big part of their economy, just like it is with ours.  We have a whole lot in common, you know."

"But I heard that Ottawa put the kibosh on that whole annexation idea," interjected Seville.  "I was nappin' with the news on and that's what I heard."

"We don't need Ottawa, Seville," answered Nerissa.  "I did some background investigatin' and found that way back in 2004, when I was only one-year-old and before you were even born, the Nova Scotia Legislature voted unanimously to invite the Turks and Caicos Islands to join our province. UNANIMOUSLY.  You have any idea how hard it is to get those politicians to vote on anything unanimously?  Almost impossible, I tell you.  They must really want this and I'm thinkin', so do I."

Landing softly on a sun drenched beach, the boys stepped out of the teleportation device.  The warm sand tickled the pads of their paws.  They both stretched out and did what any self-respecting cats would do when confronted with sand...  roll in it. "Ohhh...  a sand bath," moaned Seville, luxuriating in the soft bed that was the beach.

Half an hour later or so, Nerissa stood up in the sand and gave himself a good shake.  "Come on Sivvers," he instructed.  "We need to explore the islands and find ourselves a plumeria tree.  Help me with this flower pot, would you?"

Pushing and dragging the flower pot up a hill and away from the beach, Seville muttered something about how they should have teleported directly to wherever the plumies grew.  The flower pot was proving most uncooperative.

The cats could see beautiful island resorts off in the distance but Nissy wisely suggested they head in the other direction.  "Remember, we're lookin' for a plumeria to take home with us, Seville.  We wanna find one that doesn't belong to anybody.  Peeps workin' in those resorts might object if we take one of theirs."

Eventually they came to a grassy clearing and in that clearing, they found a plumeria tree.  It was the most beautiful tree the cats had ever seen.  Far more beautiful than any of Peep #1's plumies. Not only was it considerably larger than any of her potted plumeria but also, it was blooming. Nerissa inhaled deeply, enjoying the exotic fragrance of the flowers.  "Isn't it glorious?" he asked his brother.

"Sure is," agreed Seville.  "How are we going to dig it up?  We forgot to pack spades."

"Don't need 'em," Nissy explained.  "We're cats.  Cats don't need spades to dig.  Just use your paws."

Nissy climbed up into the plumeria tree to see where he and his brother should starting digging. "Hmmm...  Oh-oh.  We might have a little problem here."

"What kind of problem?" Seville asked.  "You think we'll need those spades after all?"

"Nope.  Not a spade issue but rather, a size issue.  Hmmm....  I'm lookin' at the size of the flower pot we brought with us and I'm lookin' at the size of this tree and I'm thinkin'...  Hmmm..."  He climbed down from the plumeria tree and sat back on his haunches, studying the situation carefully, trying to figure out a way to get the tree into the flower pot.

After careful deliberation Nerissa cried in frustration, "MOUSES!  No way, no how, is this tree gonna fit in that pot, Sivvers."

"Yeah, I kind of figured that," Seville agreed.  "I came to the same conclusion about an hour ago."

"What?  Then what have you been thinkin' about for the past hour?"

"Dinner, mostly," answered Seville.  "It has been a long time since we ate those snacks earlier. Why don't we go find ourselves a restaurant and order up some nosh?  I saw a gorgeous resort over that way," and he pointed a paw in the direction of the beach.  "Bet they have some really nice restaurants over there."

"Yeah...   why not...   whatever.  Looks like the plumie tree is a bit of a bust.  Pick some flowers for Ol' Peepers and put 'em in the flower pot, Sivvers.  That's the best we'll be able to do.  Then we'll head on down to the beach and find ourselves some drinks and some snacks.  They're supposed to have great fishin' in these here islands.  We'll get us some fish and some drinks, enjoy a late dinner and some fun in the sun and then head on back to Nova Scotia.  Maybe I'll try my paw at surfin'. They probably have surfboards to rent.  Come on Sivvers..." and the two cats made their back to the beach area in search of dinner and surfboard rentals.  "Hop to it, Sivvers!  Make sure none of those plumeria flowers fall out of that flower pot.  I'll lead the way."


"Ummm...  Nissy?" Seville's voice was muffled by his efforts to drag the flower pot.  "Wanna help with this..."

"What's that, Seville?  Hmmm...  hold on.  I'm currently calculatin' the best route back to the beach.  Hurry up with that flower pot, huh?  Time's a-wastin' and dinner is a-waitin'!  Try not to dilly-dally quite so much."

"MOUSES!" Nissy muttered under his breath.  "You'd think I was askin' him to do the impossible.  Drag a little flower pot down to the beach.  Really, is that too much to ask?  Mouses, indeed."

investin' in nip

I padded into the family room Friday night only to discover my sister, Mason, sniffin' around my froggy bank.  "Whatcha doin' there, Mason?" I asked.

"I was wondering how much money you had saved up, that's all," Mason replied.

Mason is a mathematical genius, you know.  She's always interested in counting stuff and whatnot on account of her bein' a polydactyl cat and havin' those extra toes.  Or are they thumbs?   Probably thumbs 'cause they're on her front paws.  Bottom line is, she likes to count stuff 'cause she can.  She likes to show off those toes.  Thumbs...  Whatever.

A number of cats in the Blogosphere get allowances. That's what gave me the idea of startin' up a savings plan for myself but I don't actually get an allowance. No, the peeps are too cheap for that.  Instead, I get the bottle money.  Whenever a peep gets money for returnin' recyclable bottles, the money goes into my froggy bank.

Of course, most cats keep their money in piggy banks.  I sent the peep out for a piggy bank but you know peeps...  Send a peep out for a piggy bank and she comes back with a frog.  Apparently, Peep #1 doesn't know the difference between pigs and frogs.  She also doesn't know that frogs are green. Well, the stereotypical frog is green.  I've seen brown ones in my garden.  But I've never seen an orange frog.  Only orange frog I've ever seen is the frog that is my froggy bank that was supposed to be a pig.  MOUSES!

Anywho...  I figured there must be quite a bit of money in my orange, froggy bank as I have been savin' for well over a year now but I was curious as to why Mason was wantin' to know just how much I had.  So I asked her.

"They were talking on television that the trimmers were for sale," explained Mason.  "I was wondering if you had enough bottle money to buy them."

"Trimmers?" I asked.  "You mean for hedges?  Those are on sale at the hardware store all the time.  Don't you read the flyers?  What's so special about these trimmers?"

Mason propped a thumbed paw under her chin, flexing and stretching that thumb, showin' it off and whatnot.  "Maybe that's the wrong name.  Snippers?"

"Hardware store sells snippers, too," I explained.

"CLIPPERS!" cried Mason.  "Some sort of sports team called the Clippers might be going up for sale.  Someone on CNN said it might go a billion dollars.  Do you think you have enough saved up in your froggy bank for that?"

Sometimes I wonder 'bout my sister Mason.  Firstly, there was no way, no how, that a billion dollars worth of loonies and toonies was gonna fit in my froggy bank.  And even if it did, it would be way too heavy for me to take to the Clippers store.  Secondly, I couldn't even imagine how many bottles of stuff the peeps would have to drink to recycle a billion dollars worth of bottles.  And lastly but most importantly, everyone KNOWS the money in my froggy bank is earmarked for an investment in nip futures.

"You goin' crazy, Mason?  You KNOW that money is earmarked for nip futures."  I turned my back to her and began washin' my tail.

"It was just a thought," Mason sighed.  "Originally, you were going to use your bottle money to buy toys and these whipper snippers - I mean, Clippers - play basketball which requires basketballs which are balls and balls are toys, so..."

"Don't think they're toys for cats, Mason.  Firstly, basketballs are way too big for cats to play with unless those cats happen to be lions or somethin'.  Rushy comes close to bein' a lion but not even he is big or strong enough to handle a basketball.  More importantly, I don't think basketballs contain nip.  Pretty much useless without nip," I explained.

Mason was right about one thing, though.  I had originally intended on usin' my savings to buy toys. I think I might even have made mention of buyin' toys with it when sending the peep out to find me a pink piggy - and not orange froggy - bank, way back when.

But then I got to thinking 'bout stuff and realised that the peeps buy us toys all the time.  And Santa Claus brings us toys at Christmas.  And every now and then someone sends us a toy as a prezzie or whatever.  When you think about it, we cats actually get a lot of toys.  No need for me to be spendin' my own savings on more.

On the other paw, one can never have too much nip.  No siree!  Nip is where it's at.  Nip is what makes the word go round.  Nip is the best thing since sliced bread!  Maybe even better.  Actually, from a cat's perspective, nip IS better.  No doubt about that.

I don't actually know how to invest in nip futures just yet but as soon as I have enough money in my froggy bank to do so, I'm gonna find out.  I don't even really know what nip futures are but I do know this...  A FUTURE FILLED WITH NIP IS WORTH THE EFFORT OF FINDIN' OUT!

I'll have to do some research on these nip future thingies so that when the time comes, I'm ready to invest.  In the meantime, I'll let Mason count up the money in my froggy bank.  Gettin' the chance to show off her countin' skills and those extra toes will make her day.

Toes...  Thumbs...  Whatever.

the royal visit

So Prince Charles and the Duchess of Cornwall were visiting Nova Scotia on the weekend.  I didn't get to meet 'em though.  Apparently, my invitation was lost in the mail.  MOUSES!

Anywho...  I watched Charles and Camilla for a bit on television and saw that they, just as I, enjoy an occasional walkabout.  It's true.  They did a walkabout around parts of Halifax and whatnot just like I do walkabouts in my very own garden.  You know what they say.  They say, great minds think alike and obviously, great minds enjoy the occasional walkabout, too.

After watchin' the Royals doin' their walkabout, I figured I should do one of my own.  I asked Peep #1 if she'd like to join me but she was busy doin' somethin' silly so I went outside by myself.  I headed out the window and proceeded to do a leisurely inspection of the garden.

At some point durin' said walkabout, I decided to jump up onto the car.  There's a nice vantage point from the top of that car and, more importantly, its powdery blue colour sets off the sparkle in my sterling silver - some say platinum - coat, quite nicely.  Let's just say, I look really good sittin' on that car.

But once up there, I found evidence of a crime I most certainly did not want to find.  A scratch?  No, worse.  A dent?  Nope, even worse than that.  What pray tell did I find, you ask?  I found...  BIRD DROPPINGS.  That's right.  I found a couple of big ol' white splotches that were clearly left behind by one or more birds.  MOUSES!

I looked this way and that way.  Then I looked that way and this way.  Finally, I looked way, way up.  There was nothin' to see in any of those directions.  Nothin' to see at all.

Then I heard, off in the distance, the roar of one of those noisy metal birds.  You know, a plane.  There's an air force base not too far from here and sometimes, my garden appears to be in the flight path of the planes landin' and takin' off there.  I thought about it for a bit but figured a metal bird probably wouldn't leave droppings such as those I had discovered on the car.  Unless, of course, someone had gone in to use the loo on that plane and...   Nah...  I don't think that kind of thing can happen.  I hope that kind of thing can't happen.  MOUSES!

No, I studied the situation and realised that the bird or birds who had dropped those droppings must be of a non-metallic nature.  In other words, the type of birds who hang out in my garden.

I immediately ruled out the chickadees, goldfinches and hummingbirds.  Those are all wee little birds and, quite frankly, these were BIG droppings.  Hmmm....  MOUSES!

I sat there on that car, contemplating all there was to contemplate.  Birds...  droppings...  flight path. I stared ahead at the big ol' oak tree in the back yard.  Then I glanced over my shoulder and stared at the big ol' oak tree at the end of my driveway in the front yard.  Suddenly, I had my answer. MOUSES!

I immediately raced inside the house to tell the peep what I had discovered.  I knew she would want to hear about my findings.  I had made the discovery of the century!  Okay... FINE.  The discovery of late last Sunday afternoon but a discovery, nonetheless.

I had discovered that our car was sittin' right in middle of a flight path.  It was right in the middle of the flight path of the local troupe of actors who regularly perform in The Crow Show right there in my garden.  Their stage is the big ol' oak tree in my back yard.  They perform matinees there, daily. Sometimes even a double-feature.  But one of their mornin' rehearsal areas is the big ol' oak tree at the end of the driveway in the front yard.  If one were to draw an imaginary line between those two big oak trees, one would reveal the acting troupe's flight path and one would find that, lo and behold, that flight path flies immediately above where the car sits.

What to do...   What to do...  I asked the peep if we could move the stage area for The Crow Show but she said no.   I asked her about movin' the crows' rehearsal area and again was told no.  Then I asked her 'bout movin' the driveway itself.  Once more, I heard the word no.

"But I could always move the car," the peep said.

"Nah," I answered.  "I have a better idea.  How 'bout someone just gets out there and gives the car a good ol' wash.  Perhaps one of my minions," I suggested, "and by minion, I mean you."  I looked pointedly at the peep to make sure she understood.

Turnin' away from Peep #1, I headed back outside to complete my walkabout and ponder the important things in life.  The important things in life such as...  Why the mouses did I not get an invite to meet with Charles and Camilla when they were visitin' Nova Scotia?  Why? WHY?

Clearly, my invitation really had been lost somewhere in the mail.  There is simply no other reasonable explanation.  No other reasonable explanation at all.  MOUSES!

a four-letter word

I need a four-letter word.  Hmmm...

Anybody know a four-letter word for ingrate?  I know one.  PEEP!

Let me explain...

A few days ago, Ol' Peepers was out in the garden, unsupervised.  I know. Never a good thing but I had some power nappin' to do.  I needed to catch up on some naps on account of my havin' missed some of 'em with all the hard work I had been puttin' into my blogging.

Anywho...  the peep was potting up some strawberry plants and I figured she could do that on her own.  I mean, just how difficult is it to take the plants from the smaller pots and replant them into the bigger ones?  How can you go wrong with somethin' as simple as that?  Little did I know...

Apparently, there were some dead outer leaves on many of the strawberry plants and Peepers wanted to snip them all away.  So snip, snip, snip she went until...  until she got a little to close to one of her fingers with those secateurs and...  SNIP!  Yup, right through the skin.  There was blood everywhere.

Don't worry!  The peep still has all of her fingers.  She'll survive.  In fact, the wound has almost completely healed up already but there really was blood everywhere.  She made a right ol' bloody mess, she did.  MOUSES!

She said it hurt, too.  She said it hurt a lot but I'm not sure how much I believe her 'bout that 'cause although she made quite a bit of fuss, she wasn't really nearly as fussy as some of us cats have been known to be at the doctor's office.  I kind of think she was exaggerating a little bit.

But exaggerating or not and even though she did wake me up from my power nappin' session, I felt a little guilty for havin' allowed Peep #1 to be out there in the garden all alone, unsupervised, in the first place.  She really does need constant supervision and this little incident is clearly evidence of that fact.

So as I was feelin' guilty, I decided to give the peep a little prezzie.  You know...  to make her feel better and whatnot.

I searched and I searched and I searched for the perfect prezzie for the peep and finally, I found it.  I trotted right up to Ol' Peepers, gently carrying her prezzie in my mouth.  I set down in front of her, waitin' for her to thank me and maybe even tell me how thoughtful I was for thinkin' of her and bringing her such a wonderful gift.

Well the peep took one look at that snake hangin' from my mouth and told me to let it go.  "LET IT GO?  You know how long it took me to find the darned thing in the first place?" I cried.

That, of course, was my mistake 'cause when I opened my mouth to express my frustration with the peep's lack of gratitude, the snake dropped to the ground and slithered away.  I tried to catch it again but it got in amongst some plant pots and if you could believe it, the peep picked me up and took me away from them to allow the snake to escape.  MOUSES!

I decided that the peep must be a little delusional or somethin' on account of havin' lost all that blood when she snipped her finger.  She simply wasn't thinkin' straight.  So I forgave her and immediately went in search of another snake.

Half an hour later or so, I found one.  This was one even bigger than the last.  Jackpot!  I promptly presented the peep with her new prezzie but this time, was very careful not to open my mouth and let it go until I knew the peep was gonna appreciate my gift to her.

She approached me as I held the snake.  I backed away.  She approached me again, sayin' somethin' about lettin' the snake go.  Clearly, she was still sufferin' from her major blood loss and was not to be trusted in her obviously light-headed condition.  I turned and trotted away to the front yard, intent on holdin' onto the snake until the peep had come to her senses.

Of course, bein' a peep, she followed me.  Not only did she follow me but eventually she even caught up with me, picked me up and got me to release the snake.  Then she took said snake and put it in the brush pile where it would be safe from us cats.  MOUSES!

Of all the ungrateful, unappreciative and thankless things to do.  Again I say...  MOUSES!

Those two snakes I found for the peep were green snakes. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find green snakes hiding in the green grass?  Or the green violets?  Or the green anything?  THEY'RE ALL GREEN for mousin' out loud! They blend right in.  Findin' two of 'em in one day was quite the achievement and what does the peep do?  SHE RELEASES 'EM BACK INTO THE WILD!

Next time I want to give the peep a prezzie, I'm gonna give her a mouse.  Dead.  Not alive.  One she can't try to save. Perhaps with a little nip sauce served on the side...

spies are everywhere

Did you hear?  Did you hear 'bout how the Canadian government has been spyin' on us kitties on Facebook?

It's true.  Just last week, the Federal Privacy Watchdog announced that the Government of Canada has been spyin' on us kitties   They've been readin' our statuses and whatnot and takin' notes.

And why a privacy watchdog, anyway? Why not a cat?  But I digress...

Actually, I would imagine that they're not restricting themselves to just the kitties.  There are a lot of dogs and bunnies on Facebook, too.  Maybe even some ferrets and pigs.  MOUSES!  Are there mice?  Could be.  Once heard tell of a squirrel on Twitter.

But you've gotta wonder just why they're spyin' on us kitties in the first place.  What do they want to learn?

They'll be very interested in learnin' more about my research into egg beater-whisk time travelling-teleporation technology, of course.  Everyone wants to know more 'bout that.  And then there's my work with the FBI...  You know, the Feline Bureau of Investigation.  Haven't had any cases lately but...  Hmmm...  Actually, I've never been assigned a case with the FBI.  MOUSES!

Truth be told, I'd be more than happy to enlighten the government peeps on my daily activities.  All they need do is ask.  Perhaps they're intimidated by the cuteness and intelligence of the general cat population.  Perhaps that's why they feel the need to spy on us rather than just askin' some questions.

And one has to wonder about the validity of the information they're gathering.  Especially when they're gatherin' information 'bout peeps.  My limited experience with peeps has been that some of 'em have a tendency to lie.  Actually, some of 'em have made lyin' a career!  Who's to say that what they're puttin' in their statuses is true?  I know that all of my friends out there always write the truth on their statuses but that's 'cause I've got honest friends.  Not everyone is equally as truthful.

One must also take into account the differences between statuses written by cats and peeps.

Do they even know how many of us are cats?  MOUSES!

You know, we cats write about totally different stuff from peeps. TOTALLY.  And if the government spies don't know it's a cat writing the status, they're bound to get confused and whatnot. Their findings are gonna be all messed up.

For example, when I mention that I'm a member of the FBI, anyone with a modicum of sense would realise that - obviously - I mean the FELINE Bureau of Investigation.  Clearly, that's the FBI to which cats belong.  But what if the government peeps get confused and think I've started workin' for the American government?  I can just hear the conversation now.  Prime Minister Harper calls up President Obama to ask, "Hey there! Tell me...  You really hirin' cats for the FBI now?"   MOUSES!

Or what about when I write about grass?  A lot of us cats enjoy munchin' on a blade of fresh green grass every now and then.  When we write 'bout stuff like that on our statuses, we're talkin' about grass growin' in the lawn or in the garden 'cause our peeps have been neglectful with their weedin' duties or sometimes, little pots of cat grass that a peep bought for us at the pet store.  WE'RE NOT TALKIN' ABOUT POT!  Okay, we might be talkin' about the flower pot in which we're growin' the grass but the actual grass really is actually grass.  Again I say...  MOUSES!

Peep #1 was noticin' a lot of ads on her Facebook timeline for legalised marijuana for a while there which she found odd 'cause she has never ever, EVER smoked it or eaten it or anythin' else like that.  Nope.  Not even once.  She's a bit naive when it comes to stuff like that.  I had to take her aside and explain how it likely had somethin' to do with all of my posts about nip and cat grass and whatnot.  You see how spyin' can get confusin' if one does not know upon which species one is spying?

And then there's the nip...

A lot of us cats post a lot of stuff about the nip.  So much, in fact, that I keep expectin' to hear some sort of announcement from the Canadian government that they're gonna look into the legalisation of the nip.  Oh yeah...  nip already IS legal.  Silly me.  Or maybe they're gonna try to apply sin taxes to catnip and start sellin' it at the liquor stores.  If they do that, I'll have to get myself some photo ID or somethin' so that I can prove my age when buyin' the nip.  And by the way, there's NOTHIN' sinful 'bout a cat enjoyin' a little nip.  Sin taxes...  MOUSES!

When Peep #1 heard about all this spyin' and whatnot, she was livid.  Not 'cause she and I have anything to hide but rather, she was annoyed that the government peeps would rather spy on me on Facebook than read my blog.  Kind of rude, if you ask me.

Everythin' anyone needs to know 'bout me can be found right here on my blog.  My adventures, my love of the nip, the stupid stuff my peeps do, my bionic knee...  It's all there.  It's all there for the readin'.

The bottom line is this.  If the Government of Canada wants to spy on me on Facebook, they're welcome to it.  It's not like I can stop 'em or anything but....

But if they're gonna spy on me they had darned well better LIKE MY FACEBOOK PAGE and FOLLOW ME ON TWITTER and READ MY BLOG while they're at it. Anything less would be rude and inconsiderate and a myriad of other things which I could list here but there are so many things it would take far too long and actually, since this is turnin' out to be one of my shorter blog posts, I'm not gonna list the whole list although, true to form, I have included one or two of my trademark run-on sentences 'cause you know...  I wouldn't wanna let anybody down.

'Nough said.  MOUSES!

the perfect gift

Anybody see that nip mouse I set aside? ANYBODY?

That was what I asked my fur-fam yesterday.  I looked and looked and looked for that nip mouse I had planned to give Peep #1 for Mother's Day.  I looked all over the house.  I looked in every room.  I looked under beds and on top of dressers and eventually, I found it.

Anybody know who slobbered all over that nip mouse I set aside? ANYBODY?

MOUSES!  The peep isn't gonna want a nip mouse that has been all slobbered over.  Sometimes I wonder 'bout my fur-fam.

Hmmm....  Anybody know where I can order some nip plants?  Cheap?  ANYBODY?

The peep likes growin' stuff and what better stuff to grow than catnip?  I mean, is there anything better?  Not likely.  She already has a pot of nip seeds started but they're still teeny-tiny plus, she's growing 'em for us cats.  Ol' Peepers would probably love some fully grown plants that she could use for herself to make nip tea or maybe a tasty little nipped-up salad or somethin' like that but if I was gonna give her nip plants, I was gonna need to get 'em right away.  I was gonna need 'em like... yesterday.

Then I remembered how Seville had mentioned that the peep wasn't into nip like us cats.  Sivvers thought the peep might rather have somethin' unnipped or whatever.

Anybody know if we have any wand toys on paw that we haven't yet destroyed?  ANYBODY?

Clearly, finding a prezzie for the peep for Mother's Day wasn't gonna be as easy as I had originally thought.

Then I thought about her plumeria.  The peep has developed a bit of an unhealthy obsession over her plumeria plants.  You should see how she dotes upon them.  Maybe she'd like a couple more? Would I be enabling her unhealthy obsession if I were to give her some plumie seeds?

I turned on the computer and hacked into the peep's private affairs.  Uh-huh... Uh-huh...  Looked like the peep already had some plumeria seeds on order but there were some she liked that she didn't order.  Hmmm...  I could always order her up a couple more packages of seed.

Nah, she probably doesn't need any more plumies.  To be honest, she already has enough of 'em.  Those plumies have a way of stealin' the very best sunpuddles in the sunroom from right under my paws.  MOUSES!

That's when I realised that none of the peep's plumies are actually blooming.  They're just sittin' there, occupying sunpuddles.  Maybe the peep would like a blooming plumeria plant.  Maybe I could teleport on over to....

No, I decided.  A reconnaissance mission for bloomin' plumies would be an adventure that would have to wait for another day.  Might need Seville's help on that one and he was too busy washin' his tail and whatnot to prepare the teleportation device.

Yarn!  That's always a great prezzie for a peep.  The peep likes playin' with yarn.  In fact, she likes playin' with yarn so much that she never shares her yarn toys with us cats.  It's true.  She complains when we catch the yarn with our paws or when we chase the ends of the knittin' needles as they go clickity-clack, clickity-clack.  Rather mean, if you ask me.

Oh and you should hear how she freaks out when she's knittin' and all of a sudden discovers that one of us has had the yarn in our mouth, makin' it all wet and slobbery but when you think about it, it's really her own fault.  If she gave us our own yarn toys for playin', we wouldn't have to play with hers.

Scratch the yarn idea.  Peep doesn't need yarn toys if she's not gonna play nice and share 'em.

What to do...  What to do...

That's when it came to me.  Suddenly, I knew just what to do regardin' Ol' Peeper's Mother's Day prezzie.  I had come up with the perfect prezzie for the peep, for sure.

For Mother's Day, I decided to give the peep...  ME.  For one day only, I will be the perfect cat.  I will come when she calls me and let her pick me up and cuddle me and give me lots of love.  I will allow her to smother me with kisses and not squirm out of her arms or anythin' like that.  I will let her give me chin tickles and behind-the-ear scritches and even tummy rubs, never complainin' when I have had enough. And in the evenin', when it's time for Sunday night Masterpiece Theatre watchin', I will cuddle up next to her and allow more tummy rubs and chin tickles and whatnot.

Yup, perfect Mother's Day gift if you ask me.  I've even managed to get the other cats on board.  We will all be perfect kitties for the peep on Mother's Day which should be pretty easy 'cause as cats, perfection is what we do best.  You really, REALLY have to agree.

I'm BEGGING you here!

MOUSES!  MOUSES!!  MOUSES!!!

Hmmm...   Did I happen to mention, MOUSES?

You're probably wonderin' what has got my fur all ruffled especially, since as a short-haired kitty, my fur very rarely ruffles.

Well last Saturday morning, Ol' Peepers here went to hang out her laundry.  As a peep, she does her laundry usin' soap and water unlike us cats who use spit and polish but I digress...

Peep #1 was all set to hang up her laundry when she discovered that someone in our neighbourhood was burnin' brush.  BURNIN' BRUSH ON LAUNDRY DAY?  Well let me tell you, I had one cranky peep on my paws, for sure.

There was my peep, tryin' to do the right thing by hangin' her laundry on the line instead of usin' a power-suckin' and carbon-emittin' clothes dryer, bein' thwarted by some other peep who decided to burn yard waste instead of compostin' it.  So what was my peep gonna do?  Was she gonna hang out her laundry on the line?  No way!  She wasn't gonna hang it out and have it come in stinkin' of smoke.  It's a pretty sad thing when your laundry is dirtier and stinkier AFTER bein' washed, you know.  Yes, a pretty sad thing, indeed.

Had the peep hung out her laundry, she would have had to have re-washed it when it came in to get rid of the stench of the smoke.  That would have used more water and even more electricity and then, in the end, she would have ended up puttin' it in the dryer after all.  MOUSES!

DOES NO ONE CARE ABOUT OUR PLANET?

Of course, bein' a considerate cat, I allowed the peep to give me some chin tickles and tummy rubs until she calmed down and felt better.

After calmin' the peep, I went to work investigatin' the crime at paw.  You heard me correctly... CRIME.  'Cause what I had just witnessed was a crime against nature and the environment, for sure. It's no wonder Mother Nature has been dishin' out such nasty weather lately.  She's probably feelin' pretty cranky, too.  Just like my peep.  MOUSES!

Turns out, the people down the street who were burnin' brush last Saturday mornin' were doin' so illegally.  Turns out, NO DOMESTIC BURNIN' is allowed anywhere in the Province of Nova Scotia durin' the hours of 8am and 2pm.  Nowhere, not under any circumstances.  I have to admit, I was quite proud of my province after findin' out about that.

But then I got to thinkin'...  Why can they burn brush in the afternoons?  Hmmm...  This required more investigatin' on my part, for sure.

No one really needs to burn brush or leaves.  It's simply not necessary.  Leaves, of course, can be composted.  They should be composted.  No doubt about that.  My peep composts leaves all the time and uses them as mulch, too.  They make great mulch for the primroses and whatnot growin' in my garden.

As for brush, there are other ways to get rid of it. Peep #1 has never in her life burned brush.  She has two little brush piles for the wildlife that appreciates such things and when she needs to get rid of stuff that can't go in those piles - like the bramble canes that scratched her to bits last week - she puts it in the green bin where it'll be taken away for composting.  Sure, she's limited by what she can fit into the bin but what doesn't fit one week, will surely fit the next time around.  Kind of goes without sayin', I should think.

Now I know, some peeps out there just like to burn things.  Strange but true, unfortunately.

But why do they have to burn stuff in the afternoon? Why can't they burn stuff startin' in the evening? When it won't interfere with peeps tryin' to do laundry or openin' their windows to let fresh air into the house or just enjoyin' the great outdoors?

It seems to me that it would be far better to PROHIBIT ALL DOMESTIC BURNIN' during the hours of 8am to to 7pm, no matter what the weather.  As it is, dependin' on the weather and the forest fire probability, there are already some days when this occurs.  Why not every day?  Then, if peeps have their hearts set on lighting a fire, they can do so in the evenin' and throughout the night.  They can still burn their brush - no matter how unnecessarily - but do so without interferin' with everyone else.

But what about camp fires?  Could you roast veggie dogs and tofu burgers on a camp fire for lunch if burnin' was prohibited durin' the day?  Peeps are gonna wanna know 'bout that.

Unfortunately, the answer to that question would be no but...  BUT THERE'S A WAY TO FIX THAT. Seriously, when makin' these regulations someone should have consulted a cat.  You know, to work out the kinks and whatnot.

Currently, a camp fire is considered an open fire just like a burnin' pile of brush.  Why not EXCLUDE camp fires bein' used for the purpose of cookin' food?  All it takes is a simple little clause statin' that during the hours of 2pm and 7pm, camp fires used for cookin' food can be lit providing that it's a day where burnin' will be allowed after 7pm.  MOUSES that was easy.  Why can't peeps think of stuff like that?

But back to the peep's dirty laundry and the welfare of the planet.

When someone burns brush, they pollute the air.  The burnin' of brush sends carbon emissions up the wazoo and into the atmosphere.  You're thinkin', it's just one little brush fire but no, it's not.  It's not 'cause rest assured, if one person is burnin' brush, so is another one on the next street over and another on the street beyond that.  All those little brush fires add up to one monstrously big one. MOUSES!

If an ocean is made up of tiny drops of water, the mother of all mother-carbon-emitting brush fires is made up of small little fires scattered around the neighbourhood.  Again I say...  MOUSES!

What's more, as a result of one person burnin' brush, a whole lot of other people are gonna be puttin' their wet clothes in the dryer instead of using a clothes line.  And instead of openin' their windows to allow fresh breezes to cool down their houses, they're gonna keep those windows closed 'cause of the smoke and instead, turn on their air conditioners.  With all those clothes dryers and air conditioners runnin' on high, the carbon emissions are addin' up even more.  They're addin' up EXPONENTIALLY!

It seems to me that the issue at paw is this.  Currently, the burnin' of brush is bein' handled solely by the Department of Natural Resources and it's all about forest safety.  But burnin' brush shouldn't just concern them.  There's more at stake here than the forests.  THERE'S THE PLANET!

The peeps workin' in the Department of Natural Resources are tryin' to keep our forests safe from wildfires.  That's their job but it's high time that the Department of Environment weighed in on this matter to keep the planet safe, too.

I, Nerissa the Cat, am personally imploring the Nova Scotia Minister of Environment to put his head together with the Minister of Natural Resources and to come up with a plan - TOGETHER - that will keep both our forests and our planet safe.  I'm BEGGING you here and as a cat, I very rarely beg.  What do you think I am?  A dog???

It seems to me that all the little bits we can do to help the environment add up to one big bit.  Remember those oceans.  One drop at a time, does an ocean make.  One drop at a time...

Ban all burnin' of brush from 8am 'til 7pm every day with the exception of allowin' small, open fires for the purpose of cookin' food between select hours.  Easy peasy, if you ask me but then, I'm a cat and you know...  cats are smart.  Certainly smarter than your average peep.

'Nough said.  MOUSES!

been a long time

It has been a long time since I did a this and that post.  Probably months and months!  Better do one up for today, I should think.

In the wake of the Great Flood of 2014, there have been a lot of little things goin' on at my house.  Little things that could very well add up to one big post containin' a little of this and a little of that.

Spring is late.  No doubt about it.  I have informed Mother Nature 'bout her slackin' bein' unappreciated but so far, I've heard nothin' back.  How rude.

For the past week, the primroses have been starting to bloom but there are still way more buds than blooms and I have not yet been able to pose amongst them for my spring photo shoot.  Same with the daffodils.  Only the yellow ones are bloomin' and the bed is lookin' somewhat patchy.  And the violets? They're comin' up, sure, but only leaves so far and not a single flower in sight.

Does Mother Nature not realise I have a spring photo shoot to do?  Peeps out there are wantin' to see pictures of me with the flowers.  They're awaitin' new pictures.  I'm havin' to use pictures from previous springs in my posts.  MOUSES!

Speakin' of violets...  The peep is ever-so-pleased to see her special little fragrant violets are startin' to pop up through the soil.  I inspected them yesterday and let me tell you...  I've never seen anythin' so little and piddly and piddly and little before in my life.  Totally useless.  I really can't see myself posin' with those.  One paw in the wrong spot and...  well...  SQUISH.  Know what I mean?

Oohhh...  but I've got some big news.  WE HAVE SWALLOWS!  It's true.  There are swallows nestin' in the overhang of the garage.  Peep says they might be barn swallows which is weird 'cause we don't have a barn and they're nestin' in the garage.  Anyone out there ever hear of garage swallows?

I've been babysitting 'em.  We cats all have.  The swallows don't mind.

Every time the peep comes round to that side of the garage, she finds one of us cats lyin' down on the ground just below where the swallows appear to have their nest.  We can't really see the nest although Ol' Peepers thought she saw some nestin' material stickin' out of the little opening.

We cats haven't actually been sittin' on the eggs keeping 'em warm or anything like that.  No, we just lie there, below their nest, protectin' it from marauding nosey neighbour cats and whatnot.

Like I said, the swallows don't mind my fur-fam at all.  On the contrary, we're all pals.  The peeps, on the other paw, are somethin' else.  Whenever the peeps come around the corner, there's a wild flurry of wings and the parent swallows fly off.  They fly off so quickly, it's all just a blur but the sound lets the peeps know they've just had a swallow fly-by.

Numerous times, I have tried to explain to the swallows that really, my peeps will do 'em no harm but so far, they're not buyin' it.  Swallows are smart, you see.  Swallows know that humans cause the vast majority of songbird related deaths in the world.  The swallows feel safe with us cats but peeps are a different matter.  Let's just say that peeps are a totally different species of trouble.

Yesterday, for the first time in two whole years, Peep #1 finally figured out that the brambles growin' next to my Japanese Moon Garden have to go.  I have been tellin' her to get rid of those things for two years now and only yesterday, did she start cutting 'em down.  I think she's goin' hard of hearin' or somethin'.

I call the garden that 'cause Japanese Moon Garden sounds so pretty but really, it's not a Japanese garden and no one is allowed to moon anyone while in there.  What's that Peepers?  The moon refers to the moon in the sky 'cause  the plants are light-coloured and glisten in the moonlight? Interestin'...  Who knew?  Oh yeah, and I guess the Japanese honeysuckle is kinda Japanese.  My name for the garden is makin' more and more sense by the minute.  MOUSES!

From what I've heard, the deck next to my Japanese Moon Garden is probably goin' bye-bye this summer.  Sure do hope the peep manages to salvage my honeysuckles.  They attract the hummingbirds and you all know how I love my hummers.

But back to the brambles.  You should have seen the peep!  She got scratched so many times I lost count.  Those moused-up brambles kept reachin' out and grabbin' at her clothes and skin while she went at 'em with the secateurs.  FINALLY, they were all down and most of 'em have been snipped up and put in the green bin, waitin' to be carted away on the next garbage day for compostin'.  She pretty much filled the bin to the brim so the rest will have to wait 'til the bin is empty, I guess.

You know, those brambles would not have gotten so out of paw had the peep listened to me two years ago when I told her they were in my way every time I tried to walk from the front yard into the back and visa versa.  MOUSES!

And finally, I should just mention about the fur that flew last night.

Howls and yowls and then yowls and howls could be heard emanatin' from the basement.  At first I thought, did a rocky raccoon get into my house?  Then I recognised the voices and realised...  Nope, not rockies.  Only marmies.

My two marmalade brothers were goin' at it.  For some reason, Rushton and Seville just don't get along with one another.  Actually, for the last month or so, the peeps have been commenting on how they have been gettin' along better but I guess, really, they were just savin' up their animosity.

Peep #1 went downstairs and picked up Seville, noticing a big wad of marmalade fur that did not belong to him 'cause it was too long, stuck to his paw.  I heard her tellin' Rushton to get his tail upstairs and sure enough, Rushy ran up the stairs.  She then brought Sivvers up and proceeded to calm the two of 'em down which really required not much more than bein' separated from one another.

But this mornin'!  This mornin', Ol' Peepers went downstairs and found a small cat's worth of marmie fur in the furnace room.  Those two must have been really goin' at it.  A real knock 'em down, rollin' on the floor with whappy paws kind of fight.  Needless to say, they're both pawin' on thin ice with the peeps right now.  Rushton is tryin' to convince Peep #1 that he was just sheddin' on account of it bein' spring and all but so far, she's not buyin' it.  MOUSES!

So that's about it for my this and that post, I think.  I was gonna write about the smoke yesterday but I'll save that for a future post.  Maybe a post all to itself.  You'll just have to just stay tuned for that one.