like clockwork

"Seville, did you pack everythin' we're gonna need?  This is an important mission.  We need to be extra prepared."

"Still gathering up a few odds and ends," Seville informed Nerissa. "Toss those nuts and bolts into a bag.  We might need them."

Nerissa pawed at one of the piles of nuts and bolts scattered about the room. "Where did they all come from?" he asked Seville.

"Oh, here and there."

Nerissa narrowed his gaze toward his brother.  "Here and there?"

"Well you see, every time I take something apart, I have leftover pieces when I put it back together again.  Those are the leftover bits from various projects," Seville explained.  "We might need some of them in London.  Could come in handy."

Earlier that morning, Nerissa and Seville had been summoned by Her Majesty, the Queen of England; Scotland Yard; and some guy who called himself The Keeper.  Nissy didn't know exactly what this guy kept but the scroll on which the summons was written looked extremely official.

The toaster transporter had been dinging away like it had never dinged before.  Every time Nissy turned around, another summons appeared.  The people of London were desperate for his and his brother's assistance.

"Should we bring along one of those scrolls?" Seville asked Nerissa.  "You know, to let everyone know we're really us and not some impostors tryin' to access Big Ben."

"Nah, I think they'll recognise us without the paperwork, Sivvers.  I'm pretty sure the Queen reads my blog."

Nissy grabbed a couple of extra backup whisks before ordering, "PREPARE THE TELEPORTATION DEVICE," and moments later the two cats were soaring through time and space on their way to London, England.  Gently gliding to a stop on the ground below Big Ben, they climbed out of their flying frying pan and looked around.  "Hmmm...  no official welcoming committee? MOUSES!"

A very frazzled looking man, wearing a long lab coat, hurried out of the clock tower.  Clasping his hands to his face he exclaimed, "You've arrived!  Come along, moggies," and he grabbed each cat by a paw, dragging them into the tower.  "You're our last hope, you two. If you can't fix this, I don't think anyone can."

"Excuse me, Mister, but we can walk a whole lot faster if you let go of our paws," Nerissa huffed.

"Of course, of course...  And where are my manners?  I'm Alistair Thackeray.  I summoned for you this morning."

"You and just about everyone else in London," Seville said.  Looking around he added, "When do we meet the Queen?"

"I'm sure we'll meet her after we fix Big Ben," Nissy hissed to his brother.

Seville glared at Nissy before whispering, "And why did he call us moggies?  What is a moggy, anyway?"

"I think it's somethin' the English call cats," Nissy answered.  "Roll with it.  You know, when in Rome, do as the Romans do.  That sort of thing."

"But we're not in Rome, Niss.  This is London!"

"Uh, yeah," and Nissy turned back to the man he now believed to be The Keeper, although still unaware of what exactly was being kept.  "Anywho...  Time's a wastin'.  Let's get this show on the road, Alistair.  What exactly is the problem?"

Alistair cleared his throat and began to explain.  "Early this morning, it was noticed that Big Ben had stopped chiming.  I immediately investigated and discovered that the mechanism inside the clock tower had stopped working.  Everything had simply ground to a halt."

"The entire city is in a panic," Alistair continued.  "The mechanisms inside the tower are powered by gravity.  As gravity is constant, the gears should continue moving.  If they've stopped..."

"I see," and Nissy sat back on his haunches.  "If the gears have stopped workin', somethin' has altered the gravity around the clock tower.  Is that why you called us in?  'Cause Seville and I are the world's leading experts in eggbeater-whisk time travelling-teleportation technology and you're aware that in order to travel through time, we have to manipulate the gravity waves..."

"Not exactly," Alistair interrupted.  "I called for the two of you because of the discovery I made while inspecting the gears in the clock mechanism.  See for yourself," and he pointed to the mechanism that powered Big Ben.

"Hmm..." murmured Nerissa.

"Er-hmm," Seville cleared his throat.

"What you have there are a couple of whisks," stated Nissy.  "They appear to be uh...  jammin' up the works, so to speak.  We're gonna have to get those out of there. Sivvers, pass me a wrench."

"Hold on Nissy!" Seville cried.  "Don't touch them.  I'm picking up electromagnetic anomalies in the space-time continuum.  The whisks appear to be generating their own magnetic force, altering the gravitational forces within the immediate area.  They're warping the very fabric of space and time."

"What could cause somethin' like that?" Nerissa questioned.  "Those whisks must be..."

"Out of sync with space and time," and Seville finished his brother's thought.  "They're creating a small time vortex in which the localised space-time continuum has been frozen.  It's that vortex that has stopped Big Ben from chiming."

"What are you two moggies going on about?" asked Alistair.  "Time vortexes?  Continuums?  Just tell me how those whisks got into my clock mechanism."

Nissy peered closely at one of the whisks.  "Oh-oh...  Sivvers take a look at this."

The two cats immediately recognised the whisk as being one of the whisks Nissy and Seville had brought with them to London.  "But we just packed that up this morning.  Packed it up after we were summoned here..." and Seville's voice drifted off.

"Well that explains the anomalies in the space-time continuum," muttered Nerissa.  "Big Ben is caught up in a time causality loop.  No wonder it's not chimin'!"  Grabbing the whisk with both paws, he gave it a mighty yank, freeing it from the clock mechanism.  "Sivvers, grab that other whisk and pull."

With the whisks removed, the gears in the clock mechanism stirred to life.  Nissy stood tall, holding his tail high in a confident position.  "All fixed up, Alistair.  Just in time, too.  This is New Year's Eve.  Can't imagine what would happen if Big Ben wasn't able to chime on the stroke of midnight to bring in the new year."

Alistair narrowed his eyes.  "Now explain to me again how those whisks got into my clock.  They were your whisks, did you say?"


Nissy coughed.  "Time causality loops are very complicated things," he explained, hurriedly.  "Have to do with quantum theory and whatnot.  You probably wouldn't understand.  My whisks...  Seville's whisks...  The Galloping Gourmet's whisks!  Who knows to whom those whisks originally belonged.  Or will belong..."

Stuffing the whisks into the bag with the extra nuts and bolts the cats had brought from home, Nissy directed Alistair away from the clock mechanism and down the staircase.

"So tell me, what have we got planned for tonight?  Fireworks?  Music?  Snacks?  Midnight arrives here in London four hours ahead of Nova Scotia so Sivvers and I have a couple of hours to kill before headin' home to celebrate with the peeps.  Didn't receive a party invite from Buckingham Palace but I'm pretty sure that was just an oversight.  You think they'll have nip?  Oh, and while we're there, you can introduce us to the Queen.  I'm gonna wanna wish her a Happy New Year, for sure.


                                    HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

I have nip!

Nip farmin'...  HERE I COME.

That's right.  I have nip!

Santa was very good to us kitties on the nip front, this year.  There were nip mice and biff bags galore. You know what biff bags are, don't you?  They're little knitted bags containing nip that we cats can biff about. Thus the name, biff bags.  Of course, since they contain nip, we don't do a lot of biffin' with them. More slobberin' than biffin', really.  Nip is meant to be sniffed and licked and slobbered over...  not biffed.

Anywho...  Santa brought all of us cats toys with nip and so far, no one has peed on any of 'em. Yeah, it happens.  Not this year though and thank goodness for that.

But my brother, Seville, peed on the peep.  Yup, he peed on the peep, yesterday.  Actually, he sprayed her.  Yup, he sprayed Peep #1.  It did not go over well.  Guess he was lettin' her know she was his or somethin'.  Don't know what got into him.  The rest of us just rub up against the peeps' legs like normal cats do.  MOUSES!

But back to the nip.

Santa wasn't the only one bearin' nip, this year.  One of my amazin' bloggin' buddies sent me the most incredible nip that I have ever sniffed and believe you me, I, Nerissa the Cat, have sniffed some pretty fantastic nip in my time.  I'm not sure if I'm allowed to reveal my pal's name.  Might be a secret or somethin'.  But I sure do wanna thank him 'cause let me tell you, that nip is incredible stuff.  Mixed in with the nip is Valerian root and honeysuckle and a little cat mint, too.  It's heavenly. Mouses that stuff is good.

Peep #1 has promised to do us up some fabric crinkle toys with that special nip blend.  She's gonna do 'em up after the holidays are all over and things are gettin' back to normal.  As if my house is ever normal.  Excuse me while I drop everythin' and laugh myself silly for the next half-hour or so.   I swear, my peeps live in a constant state of delusion.  Deludin' themselves into thinkin' our house can be anythin' but confusing.  Delusional confusion is the normal state of affairs 'round here.  Yup, that's the normal state of affairs, for sure.

But once things are back to our normal state of delusional confusion, the peep is gonna do up those crinkle toys.  Gonna make one for my pal who sent me the special nip blend, too.  He's gonna love it 'cause you know, it's nip!

The peeps got us some nip, too.  Well...  sort of.

Under the Christmas tree, this year, I found a card from the peeps.  In that card was a promissory note for full-grown nip plants in the spring.  As soon as the nurseries open up for the season, Peep #1 is gonna head out and get us some nip plants.  Nip plants we can plant in the garden, allowin' us to grow our very own nip.

Guess the peep has given up on growin' the stuff from seed.  One dismal failure after another, that has been.  Don't know what her problem is.  The woman grows all sorts of stuff from seed.  Even things like plumeria and linden trees.

Of course, plumeria and linden trees are useless to me.  The only thing those plumies are good for is ten pin plumie bowlin' in the sunroom.  Pretty good game when the plants are small but the bigger they get, the harder it is to knock 'em down in their pots, if you know what I mean.

And linden trees!  Don't get me started on those.  Oh yeah, they look pretty, growin' out there in the garden and whatnot but there are no horizontal branches on those trees.  Totally useless for climbin'.  Totally useless, for sure.  MOUSES!

But give the peep a package of nip seed and you know what you get?  Nothin'.  Give her two packages of nip seed and do you know what you get?  Nothin' times two.  Give her three packages...   You get the picture, I am sure.  Doesn't matter how many times you multiply nothin' with somethin' you still end up with nothin'.  Again I must say, MOUSES!

This time, the peep is gettin' grown-up plants, already growin' and everythin'.  But with her track record on the nip growin' front, I don't think she can be trusted with those plants.  No, these plants will be cared for by none other than me.  I'm gonna be a nip farmer.

And remember how I asked Santa to bring Peep #1 a Growin' Nip for Dummies book for Christmas? Well that didn't happen.  Santa ran into a slight problem with that.  Apparently, the book on Growin' Nip for Dummies has not yet been written.  He told me I should write one myself.

And I was all prepared to write that book, Growin' Nip for Dummies, too.  I began with the title but then I thought... MOUSES! that can't be right.  What is the Claus insinuating 'bout me?

To tell you the truth, I don't think Santa was insinuating anythin' but still, the title of the book threw me for a bit of a loop.  It's all in how you say it, you see. It's a matter of interpretation.

Growin' Nip for Dummies...  Is it a book written so that peeps like my peep can grow nip?  Peeps who might have been exposed as dummies on the nip growin' front, before?  OR is it a book 'bout growin' nip that you will then give to dummies.  You know, nip FOR dummies.  MOUSES!

I, Nerissa the Cat, may be a lot of things but a dummy I am not.  No way, no how, can anyone call me that.  Gotta rework the title of my book, I think.  Probably a good idea, anyway.  That dummy franchise thing-a-ma-jig has already been taken.

NIP GROWIN': Dumbed Down for a Certain Incompetent Peep.  Kinda catchy, don't you think?

Anywho...  As soon as the nip plants are available in the spring, I'll be gettin' mine and I'll plant 'em and water 'em and feed 'em with...  Well actually, I'll supervise the peep doin' all that stuff.  I'm gonna be more of a gentleman nip farmer, if you know what I mean.

I'll supervise the peep while she plants 'em and waters 'em and feeds 'em with whatever nip plants like to eat.  I'm thinkin' it's not Fancy Feast or anythin' like that but whatever it is, it's gotta be good. Only the best for my nip plants, for sure.  Gotta make sure that the peep gives my nip plants the very best of care.

This is gonna be the start of a whole new career for me.  I've been savin' up my bottle money to invest in nip futures for what seems like forever.  I'm sure I've got lots of bottle money saved up in my froggy bank.

I know, most cats have piggy banks but long, long ago I made the mistake of sendin' the peep out to get me a piggy bank and instead, she came home with one that is most definitely not a pig but rather, a frog.  What a peep.

But whether it be a pig or a frog, it's still a bank.  And it's the bank containin' all my bottle money and my potential investment in nip futures.  I'm thinkin' that by growin' some nip myself...

Actually, I'm not sure what I'm thinkin'. I don't really think that's how these investment futures work.  I need to figure that one out.

But in the meantime, I'm gonna start up my nip farm.  With only a pawful of plants, it will be a rather small farm, at first.  Kinda piddly, actually.  But it's a start.  That's what's important.  My plants will grow and as they do, so will my farm.  My nip-growin' farm...  WONDERFUL.  Yup, nip farmin'...  HERE I COME.  It's gonna be amazin'.  Gonna be amazin', for sure.  MOUSES!

the naughty list

Thinking he heard an odd sound, Nissy stopped typing.  Silence.  "Nothin' there," and he shook his head.  "Must be hearin' things or somethin'."  He went back to work on his blog post but moments later, there was another sound.  Twitching his ears back as far as they would go, Niss hit save on the computer.  "I had best go check that out," and he padded toward the basement door. Creeping down the stairs, Nerissa peered around the corner.

"ALL ABOARD!" someone cried.

"SIVVERS!" Nerissa hollered.  "What the mouses is that...  that...  that train doin' in our basement?"

"I had nothing to do with it, Niss.  I...  Um...  I uh..." Seville stammered.

Nerissa stomped over to the opening in the basement wall and gave the train engine a kick with a paw.  "Ouch!  Seville, you've been messin' with whisks again, haven't you?  This here is a time vortex.  A TIME VORTEX!  You've gone and opened a time vortex in the basement wall!  When Peep #1 finds out about this..."

"But it wasn't me!  I'm telling you, Niss, I didn't do it.  At least not this time, anyway."

Nerissa stared hard at his brother before pointing to a whisk lying on the floor.  "Oh yeah?  Then where did that whisk come from, huh?  You gonna deny..."

"But that's not mine!"  Seville held up two whisks, one in each paw.  "See?  I admit that I was tinkering with the teleportation device, trying to increase the whisk eggbeater differential accleration ratio but I only had the two whisks.  That one there is a plant.  Someone is tryin' to frame me.  I swear!"

At that very moment, an elf hopped down from the train.  "Did someone say time vortex?  As in time travel?  Tsk, tsk, tsk...  Well that certainly explains how I made such good time getting here. But it doesn't explain why I ended up here.  Here in this...  basement," the elf sneered.

"Nothin' wrong with our basement," and Nerissa glared at the elf.  "Exactly who are you and how did you end up in my basement?"

"Colton , Sir.  At your service," and the elf stood at attention.  "I'm in charge of acquiring the coal Santa needs to fill the stockings for the children on his Naughty List, each year."  He slumped down onto the floor.  "I don't know what happened.  I negotiated a contract with a new mine and had no problems getting the needed coal but this map to get me home proved useless. Instead of taking me back to the North Pole it led me...  HERE!" and he flung his arms and the map up into the air.

Nerissa snatched the map off the floor and immediately noticed sticky paw prints all over it.  "From whom exactly did you purchase this map, Colton?"

"The Weasel Syndicate, of course," Colton snapped.  "Everyone knows they're the go-to guys when you need something in a hurry."

"That's true, Niss," piped up Seville.  "During the world-wide eggbeater shortage a while back, the only place I could get eggbeaters for our eggbeater-whisk time travelling-teleportation technology was the Weasel Syndicate.  That's where I bought those refurbished egg..."  Seville slapped a paw to his mouth.  "I tried to return the eggbeaters when they all started falling apart but the weasels wouldn't give me a refund.  Apparently, all sales are final."

Nerissa looked at his brother.  "Okay, seems like you're not entirely to blame for this fiasco, Seville. Clearly this is some sort of retribution by the Weasel Syndicate."  He bent down to inspect a rolled up piece of paper on the floor.  Seeing that it was Santa's Naughty List, he added, "We need to do something 'bout this train, though.  If we're not careful, we'll end up on this list."

"You're probably already on it," smiled Colton.  "The list is magic.  Names appear and disappear, automatically.  Creating a situation where Santa's coal train was drawn into your basement and away from the North Pole sounds like reason for the Naughty List to add your names to its ranks."

"BUT I WAS FRAMED!" Seville cried.

"Doesn't matter," grinned Colton.  "Naughty is naughty and the list always knows."

"And I..." began Nerissa.

"Naughty by association," Colton stated.  Unrolling the list he pointed to the bottom.  "I was right. There you are.  Nerissa the Cat and Seville.  Looks like you'll both be getting lumps of coal in your stockings this year."

"Awww...  MOUSES!"  Nerissa sat back on his haunches.  "But what if we were to help you find your way back to the North Pole?  Do you think that would get us off the list?"

Colton thought for a moment.  "It might.  Do you have an accurate map?"

"I have better than that," Nerissa grinned.  "I have a radioactive reindeer dust tracking compass!  Be right back."

Moments later, Nissy returned carrying his compass.  "I use this to track all reindeer activity in Nova Scotian airspace each December but I think I can use it to track our path back to the North Pole."  He peered into the tunnel.  "Yup, just as I thought.  The confined space of the tunnel is magnifying the effect of the dust's radioactivity.  It's like a beacon pointing to the North Pole.  When we encounter diverging tunnels, the compass will tell us which one to take."

"I'll take that," and Colton grabbed at the compass but Nissy drew back his paw.

"No way, Colton.  I'm not lettin' this out of my sight.  Seville and I are coming with you.  I wanna make sure our names disappear from that list."

The two cats and the elf began their long journey to the North Pole. Nerissa and Seville kept themselves entertained by singing Christmas carols while Colton recited the names on the Naughty List.

Seville leaned over and whispered in Nissy's ear, "I think the elf thinks he's one of those actors who can recite the telephone directory and sound interesting."

"A phone book would be far more interestin', I should think," was Nissy's reply.

After what seemed like days but was really about forty-five minutes, the three finally arrived at the North Pole.  "And I suppose you'll be wanting to meet with Santa, yourself?" Colton asked Nissy.

"Of course.  Gotta make sure my brother and I are off that Naughty List and back onto the Nice one."

"Why of course you're on the Nice List, Nerissa.  You came all the way here to the North Pole just to find that out?  Whatever made you think you wouldn't be?" Santa asked.

"Well 'cause of...  Um...  Never mind, Santa.  Not important, really."  Nerissa pressed his lips together, hoping he hadn't given Santa any ideas.

Turning to leave, Nerissa stopped in his tracks.  "Santa?" he asked.

"Yes, Nerissa?"

"Uh, I don't know how to get home.  I don't think Seville and I can get back to Nova Scotia usin' the same way we got here.  You have any eggbeater teleportation devices handy?"

"HO! HO!! HO!!!" Santa laughed.  "We don't use eggbeater teleportation technology up here at the North Pole, little one."  Smiling, he bent down to scratch behind Nissy's ear.  "But I'll tell you what I can do.  I can loan you and your brother a reindeer and sleigh to take you home.  You'll be back with your peeps in the twitch of a whisker."

"That would be great, Santa!" and Nerissa began to purr.  "We'd appreciate that a whole lot.  THANK YOU!"

"Quite all right, my friend.  And Nerissa..."

"Yes, Santa?" Nissy replied.

"Nerissa, you and your brother might want to brush some of that Naughty List coal dust off your fur before you return home.  I can't imagine your Peep #1 will want you tracking that into the house."

"Yes Sir.  Santa...  Sir.... Uh...  Yup, I'll get right on that." and Nissy hurried off to find the waiting reindeer and sleigh, wondering exactly how much of his recent activities Santa knew.

"MOUSES!" Nissy whispered aloud to himself.  "I wonder if Santa knows 'bout my radioactive reindeer dust tracking compass.  I wonder if I'm even allowed to have such a thing.  Hmmm.... Best not to mention it to anyone.  Bad enough that that elf already knows."

And as Nerissa and Seville's borrowed sleigh took flight, Nissy was sure he heard a joyous cry of...

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL 
AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT!

Peepers!

One of the best rooms in my house for nappin' is the family room.  Lots of prime-time nappin' real estate in that room. A couple of chairs, window sills and a cat bed, to name a few.  Sometimes even a box.  And I mustn't forget the shelf under the television although lately, Rushton has claimed that to be his and only his.  He thinks we're all succumbing to his demands and leavin' it for him but truth be told, we all simply found better spots.

My favourite spot of all is on the chesterfield.  That's where the peeps sit while watchin' television and if you can get in there while one is present, tummy rubs and chin scritches are bound to follow.

So there I was the other day, curled up next to Peep #1 and driftin' off to sleep with a Canadian news channel dronin' on in the background.  Some politician was bein' interviewed and the interview was lullin' me to sleep.  The peep was tickling me behind the ears.  All was well in my little part of the world.

But I awoke with a start when I heard noises comin' from the front door.  There was a crash and a boom and, I think, if I'm not mistaken, the splinterin' of wood.  I sat there, paralysed with fear. Someone was breakin' into my house!

I glanced over at the television thinkin' that maybe, just maybe, the noises were emanatin' from there but the television was off.  It was dark.  The peeps were gone.  It appeared to be the middle of the night.

Lookin' around the family room, I saw my brother Anderson on the coffee table, Auntie Primrose in the cat bed and my sister Mason on the back of a chair.  They had all been awakened by the noises, too, eyes wide and ears alert.  Even Rushton was lookin' out from his spot on the shelf under the television.

Primrose was up in a flash.  Bein' a bit of an enforcer, she was prepared to go meet the intruders head on and...  well...  enforce.  That's kind of what she does.

Anderson cried aloud, "No Auntie Prim!  Don't go out there!  It could be dangerous.  You're small and old.  Uh...  elderly.  It's too much of a risk."

Little does my new brother Andy know that Auntie Primrose has been known - more than once - to put the fear of God into a doctor and room full of nurses and vet techs but whatever.

There were still noises comin' from the front of the house.  Whatever was goin' on could not be good.  And we cats were sittin' ducks in the family room.  Short one or two quacks but still, sittin' ducks, nonetheless.  There was only one way out and that way led in the direction of the noises.

Rushton emerged from his shelf under the television, floofin' his tail like only a long-haired cat weighin' in at over seventeen pounds can do.  "Protect the women and kittens first!" he cried.

I glanced around.  No kittens in sight. As far as the women went, like I said before, Auntie Prim requires very little protectin'.  My sister, Mason, must have been thinkin' along the same lines 'cause she was flashin' her claws, one by one.  Like in a cartoon on television, they glistened in the moonlight.

Anderson was lookin' around the room, tryin' to find somethin' - anythin' - that could be fashioned into a weapon.  His gaze drifted over to the fireplace poker. Now there was a weapon. Unfortunately it proved far too heavy for a cat to manoeuvre.

Mason grabbed a wand toy and started issuing orders.  "Nissy, untie that mouse and string from this stick," she demanded.  She, herself, began to whittle away at the stick with her claws.  She was makin' a spear."

Watching my sister with her whittling and two of my marmalade brothers staggering under the weight of the fireplace poker, I saw the futility at paw.  I said it once before and I'll say it again, we were sittin' in ducks in that room.  Somethin' had to be done.

I immediately dove under the chesterfield and hid.

I would have hidden in a closet or somethin' but the family room has no closets.  Under the couch seemed like the next best thing.  No one would ever find me there.

Primrose lifted the skirt of the couch.  "Get out from under there right now," she spat.

"No can do," I replied.  "If anythin' were to happen to me, what would happen to my blog?  Who would take over?  Who would write Nerissa's Life?  I must save myself at all costs."

From the other side of the room I heard Mason muttering.  "Any one of us could write that blog if we were ever allowed in your office."

"Not so, my fur-fam, I whispered back.  "I'm the only cat in the house who knows how to turn on the computer.  One must master that before one blogs."

Next thing I knew, my brother Seville was pokin' his face under the chesterfield.  I squinted from the light streaming in.  Clearly the intruders had entered the family room and turned on the overhead lights.  I buried my head in my paws."

"Whatcha doing under there, Niss?  You hiding from someone?" Seville asked.

Then the rest of my fur-fam appeared.  They begged and pleaded for me to come out of hiding, claiming everything was now safe.  I let out a loud cry for the peep.  "Peepers!" I howled.

I awoke with a start. I opened one eye.  Then opened the other.  I was no longer under the chesterfield but rather, curled up on top of it.  It was late afternoon and not the middle of the night.  

Seville's nose was mere inches away from mine.  "Peep #1 has set up the Christmas tree in the living room.  I think they're going to start decorating it.  Come on Niss, there are boxes of rollable breakables all over the place!"

My ears perked up at the thought of rollable breakables, I must admit.

Stretchin' out a paw, I let out a big yawn.  I looked around.  Anderson was snoozing on the coffee table, Primrose was curled up in the cat bed and Rushy was on the shelf under the television. Mason was lying rather precariously on the back of a chair, snoring.  At any moment, she would most likely fall off it...  again.

Clearly, everythin' was okay.  Everything was as it should be.  No one had been breakin' into my house. It had all been a big ol' nasty dream.  A dream likely triggered by fallin' asleep while listening to the news. And the noises I heard had likely been made by the peep bringin' the Christmas tree downstairs and settin' it up.  It all seemed perfectly reasonable.

And of course it had been a dream.  I, Nerissa the Cat, would never behave in such a manner.  Hidin' under the chesterfield when others' lives were at stake...  NEVER.  I couldn't even fathom myself behavin' like that.

When it comes to my fur-fam, I'm a leader.  A true leader.  And true leaders think of others before thinkin' of themselves.  And they never ask of others what they, themselves, would not be willin' to do. That's how leaders behave.  I should know 'cause you know...  I'm a cat and cats are smart.  We cats know 'bout stuff like that.  MOUSES!

that's a wrap!

Having added the finishing touches to his book report on The Diva Wraps it Up by Krista Davis for his Kitty Lit. 101 course, Nissy hit print on the computer. The printer came to life, spitting out pages, when a loud crash was heard from the family room. "What the mouses is that?" Nissy cried.

What he found was quite a sight.  There was his brother, Seville, dragging a large evergreen tree into the room.  In his wake lay a chair and lamp on the floor and a kitty condo, leaning up against the wall.  Oblivious to the damage he had caused, Seville padded around to the other end of the tree and began to push.

"Hey Niss, help me with this tree, would you?"

"What on earth are you doin', Sivvers?" asked Nissy.  "The Christmas tree goes in the livin' room.  Plus, that's not our tree.  Ours is artificial."

"Yeah well the peeps haven't put the tree up yet and Christmas is just a week away.  They're late.  I got all inspired to decorate after reading our latest assignment for Professor Lyon's class, The Diva Wraps it Up.  Sophie was all into the decorating and it made me realise what a slacker Peep #1 is regarding that aspect of Christmas."

Nerissa nodded in agreement.  He had to admit, his brother did have a point.  Padding over to the tree he began to help push it into place.  "You try to push it upright, Seville.  I'll pull from the other side," and Nissy circled the tree.

"Hey there Mochie," and Nissy waved hello.  Suddenly stopping in his tracks, he turned, slowly, towards the fireplace.  There, sitting on the mantel and looking down at Seville as he tried to prop up the tree, was Krista Davis' cat, Mochie.  Mochie was the real-life inspiration for the cat, Mochie, in The Diva Wraps it Up.  Nissy stared up at him in disbelief.  "MOUSES!"

"Nissy, meet Mochie," began Seville.  "Mochie, this is my brother, Nerissa the Cat."

"Wha...?" began Nerissa.  "How...?  Sivvers...  What the mouses is goin' on here?"  Nissy stared at Mochie.  "How did you get here?"

"I arranged for an early morning teleport," Seville explained. "Mochie arrived about an hour ago.  He's here to help us decorate the family room for Christmas."

Mochie gazed down at Nerissa.  "Seville explained how you didn't have any decorations up yet except for a measly little wreath in the front hall.  He clearly needed my help.  How could I refuse?"

"He has already helped dress up the mantle, Niss," and Seville pointed to where Mochie was sitting. "I'm loving the garland he used.  Isn't it festive?"

Nerissa sat back on his haunches to think about the situation.  They did need help.  His own peeps had proven useless and Mochie's mum was obviously a whizz with decorating and creating Christmas spirit.  That had been been evident in her book.

"I must admit," began Nerissa, "your mum's descriptions of Old Town, Alexandria were magical. Really, really magical.  Readin' her book was like explorin' a winter fairyland.  The Christmas activities, the old shops and houses all decorated so nicely..  She created the perfect setting for a Christmas mystery.  Mochie, if you know half the stuff your mum knows 'bout decoratin', you'll be a great help to us, for sure."

Mochie hopped down from the mantle.  "We should start by getting this snow off the tree.  Real snow and indoor lights are not a good combination."

Nissy nodded in agreement.  "Yup, you could get a shock like Luis did, huh?  Of course, he wasn't workin' with indoor lights at the time but still...   One must be careful when workin' with electricity."

Seville got to work brushing the snow off the tree while Nerissa and Mochie began to sort through the the boxes of ornaments.  "We have lots of breakable rollables at your disposable, Mochie.  You have a colour particular colour scheme in mind?  I noticed that the main character in the book, Sophie, paid a lot of attention to colour schemes."

"MOUSES!" Nissy cried, slapping a paw over his mouth with embarrassment.  "Sorry 'bout that. The main character of The Diva Wraps it Up is obviously your character, Mochie.  Sophie would be the second main character."

Mochie brushed off the slight.  "Don't worry, Nerissa.  My character doesn't have much dialogue in the book so it's an easy mistake to make."

"Actually, your character doesn't have any dialogue," piped up Seville.

Nerissa and Mochie glared at Seville. "Yeah, but Mochie's character helps set the mood, Sivvers," Nissy explained. "Plus, he alerts Sophie to things that are goin' on.  Things like when someone is up and about in the middle of the night.  Things that Sophie needs to know in order to solve the murder. Very important stuff, that, pointin' out clues and whatnot to the human characters in the book.  It's 'cause cats are way better at sniffin' out clues than peeps are."

"True," Seville nodded in agreement.

"So any ideas 'bout colour schemes, Mochie?" Nerissa asked.

"I'm thinking we'll go with the classic red and green, just as Sophie did when decorating her house."

"Whew!" and Nissy breathed a sigh of relief.  "Glad to hear we're not goin' with the pink and orange scheme some of the characters used."

"What's wrong with orange decorations?" Seville asked.  "Orange is a great colour!"

"You're just sayin' that 'cause you're a marmalade cat, bro."

Narrowing his eyes, Seville muttered under his breath, "Orange is a good colour.  It's the best colour, ever."

"You two have a very interesting relationship," Mochie mused.

"You could say that," Nerissa agreed.  "But speaking of relationships, I loved the complex relationships in the book.  They were all entwined in interesting ways.  Take for example Sophie and her ex-husband and her ex-boyfriend and now her current boyfriend, all playing important roles in the book.  Provides for very interesting reading, that."

"And I loved the humour in some of those relationships!" Seville blurted out.  "Like the relationship between Liza and Luis.  That was great.  And I loved how Liza was scared to go into the basement in case there were rats.  Imagine being scared of a little old rat," he scoffed.

Nissy winked at Mochie while saying, "Bit of a red herring with those..."

"There were red fish?" interrupted Seville.  "I know there were a lot of very interesting discussions about food, cooking and recipes and stuff in the book but I don't recall anyone serving herring.  And I certainly would have remembered had the herring being served been red."

Nissy and Mochie sighed in unison.  Having finished draping the tree with strings of lights, they began to work on adding ornaments such as bows and Nissy's favourites, the much-loved breakable rollables.

"I didn't know who the killer was until the very end," murmured Nissy.  "There were so many twists and turns in the plot that every time I thought I had it figured out, I was proved wrong."

"Oh, I knew who the killer was right from the start," Seville stated.

Nerissa and Mochie looked at Seville in disbelief.  Nissy raised one, questioning eyebrow.

"Okay, FINE.  I didn't really," and Seville batted a glass ball across the family room floor.  "I thought I did but then I read further and realised I had it all wrong.  I was kept guessing right to the end just like you, Nissy.  The book really was a real whodunit from start to finish."

Placing one final breakable rollable on the tree, Mochie stepped back to inspect it.  "Well, I think that's a wrap!  Looks good, boys.  You like?"

"We love!" Seville and Nerissa cried in unison.  "Wow, it doesn't even look like the same tree," added Nissy.  "It's beautiful."

"That's all part of the magic of Christmas," Seville told his brother.  "It looks really good, Mochie.  Thanks so much for comin' up to Canada and helpin' us with the decorations."

"It was my pleasure," Mochie told the boys.  "I enjoyed meeting you both and who knows, maybe we can get together again?"

"That would be super nice, Mochie. You have time for some dinner before teleportin' back?" Nerissa asked. "Tuna sound good?  Or would you prefer salmon?"

"I'll get the nip beer," said Seville, heading into the kitchen.  "Dinner for three.  I'll put on some Christmas music and we can eat by the tree.  Make it a really festive occasion, celebrating our newly decorated family room, all thanks to our new friend, Mochie."

                                 *****************************************

The Diva Wraps it Up is the eighth book in the Domestic Diva Mystery series written by New York Times best-selling author Krista Davis and published as a Berkley Prime Crime Mystery by the Berkley Publishing Group, a division of the Penguin Group.  Connect on-line with Krista on her website, Krista Davis, her Facebook page Krista Davis, Author or on Twitter at @kristadavis. The cover was used with Krista's permission.

one of those days

It was one of those days.

The day started out okay. Peep #1 informed me that I would have to blog on my own.  She was gonna be busy.  Fine by me.  I write all my own stuff, anyway. All I really need for her to do is turn on the ol' computer and truth be told, I don't even need that.  I just let her think I do.  Boosts her confidence, you see. Lets her think she's needed and all.  Lets her think she plays a part in my bloggin'.

A part other than, you know...  doin' foolish stuff about which I can later blog.

Hmmm...  Perhaps I do need the peep after all.  MOUSES!

Anywho...  The peep was gonna be busy Friday afternoon 'cause she had some Christmas stuff to do.  She was gonna be makin' candy.

First on the list was fudge.  I was hopin' it would be tuna flavoured but no such luck.  The peep, bein' a peep, does not appreciate the good things in life.  What a peep.  Clearly lackin' in taste, if you ask me.

Of course, the only thing better than tuna fudge would be nip balls.  I hopped up onto the kitchen counter to snatch a nip of the nip but alas, there was no nip to be found.  And when I pointed out to the peep that nip balls would require nip, she completely ignored me.  Can you believe it? MOUSES!

I was then unceremoniously dropped down onto the floor before I could get my paws on the butter and cream on the counter.  Peeps can be so rude sometimes.  I decided to head off into my office to work on my blog.

A little while later, the peep announced she had to go out.  I waved her off sayin', "Not now, woman. I've got bloggin' to do!"  I heard the door close behind her and the car engine start up.  She was off to wherever she was goin', in the rain.  Yup, it was rainin' outside.  Actually, it was pourin'.  Pretty icky weather, if you ask me.

As an afterthought, I did yell out to her to mind the rain on account of the wonky windshield wiper on the drivers' side of the car but my afterthought came after she had already left so it was too late for her to hear.  MOUSES!

From what I've been told, this was when the excitement began.

As I was workin' away on my blog, Peep #1 was headin' down Bridge Street.  Bridge Street is the street that crosses the river.  It has a bridge.  That's why it's called Bridge Street.  Peeps 'round here are kind of literal 'bout stuff like that and chaos can occur when a town or village has more than one bridge.  MOUSES!

Anywho...  The peep was headin' into the village that houses our post office to pick up a parcel. She had tried to pick it up the day before but the place in the mall where parcels used to be delivered, was no longer offerin' that service.  The peep knew 'bout this change but had forgotten.

Now it gets dark pretty early in December and on rainy days, it gets dark even earlier than early.  So there she was, drivin' into the village in the pourin' rain and it was gettin' darker and darker by the minute.

The rain was comin' down in torrents and the windshield wipers were workin' up a frenzy but not doin' what they were supposed to be doin' properly on account of one of 'em bein' wonky.  The peep was cursin' the peeps who had replaced the wonky wiper less than two weeks before 'cause after they had replaced it, it was wonkier than ever.  Thing is, she hadn't yet had a chance to get back to 'em to have it fixed.

Crossin' the bridge that gives Bridge Street its name, she glanced at the river.  It had turned into a lake.  Oh yeah, I'm serious about that.  Trees were up to their elbows in water.  Trees that used to grow in a field were now standin' in the midst of a small lake. MOUSES!

She made it to the post office with about half an hour to spare.  Racing into the buildin', she presented the postal employee with the card for her parcel only to be informed that she was at the wrong post office.  What?  But she was at our official post office.  Our mail is all sorted in that one and delivered from there.

Apparently, when the mall stopped acceptin' parcels, some genius at Canada Post decided that it would be a good idea to redirect parcels to the post office in the same village as the mall even though that post office was not actually our post office.  Not part of our address or anythin'. MOUSES!

The peeps at our post office all thought it was pretty stupid, too.  They had complained when it was done but no one had listened.  Again I must say, MOUSES!

So my peep had a decision to make.  Was she gonna drive back over the river that was now a lake, to go to the post office that was not our post office, before it closed for the weekend or was she gonna first go to the store to get some more butter for makin' candy, on account of her havin' run out of that.  What to do...  What to do...  She went for the butter.

But it occurred to the peep that maybe, just maybe, she could get her groceries and get out of there in time to go back over the river that was a now lake, and make it to the other post office that was not our post office, before closin'.  She decided to try.

She raced through that ol' grocery store, pushin' the cart through the aisles as quickly as she dared, dodgin' peeps here, there and everywhere.  There were peeps all over the place.  And their carts had been parked in the grocery store aisles in the most inconvenient of spots.  Of course, the randomly placed displays that the grocery store peeps had haphazardly scattered about didn't help, either. And the double whammy of a cart bein' parked next to a display, blockin' entire aisles, so that peeps could catch up on a year's worth of chattin' was makin' my peep a little hot under the collar, if you know what I mean.  She normally wouldn't care but that day, she was in a hurry.

Surprisingly enough, the peep managed to get what she needed and into the check-out aisle relatively quickly and without knockin' over a single chattin' peep or haphazardly placed display in the store.  Well there was...   Nah, she just bumped into that rack with the cart.  Didn't actually knock it over.  MOUSES!

Then she was back on the road, drivin' over the river that was now a lake, peerin' through the windshield whose wipers were workin' up a frenzy but not doin' much of anythin'.  The words my peep used regardin' those wipers will not repeated, here, as Nerissa's Life is a family-friendly blog.

Peep #1 pulled into the parking lot of the other post office that is not our post office but to where all our parcels are now bein' redirected.  It was after five.  MOUSES!  But she took a chance.  She thought maybe...  just maybe...

The lights on the Christmas tree in the window had been turned off and things were bein' put away but as luck would have it, someone at the post office had forgotten to lock the door.  Peep #1 swung open that post office door and stepped inside and once you're in, you're in.  They had to give her her parcel, for sure.

A few minutes later, she was back in the car.  The rain was still comin' down and the windshield wiper was still wonky.  The peep was desperate to get home 'cause she felt like she was comin' apart at the seams.

And so was the wonky windshield wiper!  To add a little more excitement to the mix, part of the wiper was now flippin' about - separately - from the rest of itself.  A clear plastic piece was workin' its way off the main part of the wiper and flippin' about like a fish out of water even though, with the heavy rain, there was plenty of water about.

The peep pulled over and stopped the car.  It was dark.  She didn't know if the clear plastic thing was supposed to be there or not.  Was the wiper fallin' apart?  Should that plastic thing have been removed when the wiper was installed?   Whatever was goin' on, surely nothin' was supposed to be flippin' about like that.  She got out of the car, stepping into the heavy rain and shoved the plastic thingy back in.

Thankfully, Peep #1 arrived home, safe and sound.  She unpacked the groceries and I, havin' finished workin' on my blog for the day, once again hopped up onto the kitchen counter. Had the peep remembered to buy tuna and nip?  Inquirin' minds wanted to know.

Unfortunately, there was not a trace of tuna nor nip to be found.  "How are you gonna make tuna fudge and nip balls without the tuna and the nip?" I questioned.

If you ask me, my peep had better improve her attitude 'round her or she's gonna end up on Santa's naughty list.  If he hears 'bout her not makin' me any tuna or nip candy...  If he hears 'bout that, she's gonna be in trouble for sure. And you don't wanna get into trouble this close to Christmas.  If you're gonna cause trouble, best to do it after the naughty and nice lists have been finalised and sent to the printers.  Believe me, I know. MOUSES!

two stars at best

Way to go, Peepers.

So the peeps decided they'd go out for lunch yesterday.  Go out to this restaurant about forty-five minutes away.  It's in an inn that's in a big old house and they figured if it was all decorated up for Christmas, it would be really, really pretty.

The second peep called 'em on the phone and asked if they had Christmas decorations up and if they were open for lunch.  They did and they were so yesterday, the peeps headed off to enjoy a lunch on the town.  Well...  in the inn 'cause quite frankly, I don't know how one has lunch on the town.  Sittin' on the steps of Town Hall?  Would that do the trick?  Kinda chilly in December to be lunchin' outside on the steps of Town Hall. Especially in Canada, if you know what I mean.  MOUSES!

Perhaps Peep #2 should also have asked 'bout makin' a reservation for when the peeps pulled into the parkin' lot of the inn, the parkin' lot was full.  And when I say full, I mean FULL.  Not a single parkin' spot was available.  Not a one.  Apparently, there was no room at the inn.

Although I bet had I been drivin' a cat-sized car, I could have squeezed in there between two of those already parked cars but since I don't have a cat-sized car, I couldn't do that.  Also, I don't know how to drive.  Teleport, yes.  Drive, no.  I should learn.  Maybe I could teach that ol' car of ours how to drive somewhere other than my doctor's office.  You may not be able to teach an ol' dog new tricks but I'm a cat - not a dog - and I'd be the one doin' the teachin'.  Plus, it would be a car learnin' the tricks.  No dogs would be involved.

Anywho...  The peeps didn't even bother goin' inside.  Didn't even get out of the car.  How could they?  There was nowhere left to park.  Best not to jump out of movin' cars, I should think.  Good to know my peeps understand that.

All that time wasted, goin' all that way, for nothin'.  MOUSES!

They had a real dilemma on their paws, those peeps o' mine.  Find some place else to eat or just come straight back home.

In all honesty, they should have returned home - immediately - for while they were mutterin' and mumblin' about not havin' had lunch, we cats were doin' the very same thing, here.  Oh sure, the peeps had put food out for us before leavin' but that's not the same thing as havin' your peeps right there, by your side, waitin' on you, paw and paw.  It's not the same thing at all!

What if I didn't want that particular kind of food?  What if I wanted somethin' else?  Who was gonna make the necessary changes?

What if one of my fur-sibs tried to hone in on my lunch?  Who was gonna stop them?

And where was my nip garnish on the plate?  WHERE?

Okay, so the peeps have never once garnished my luncheon plates with nip but really, I think they should start.  Nice to dress up the meal a little, you know?  Make the plate look pretty and everythin'.  Show that you care.

I bet Martha Stewart would add a nip garnish.  Bet she would, for sure.

And what if I needed a tummy rub or a kiss on the back of my head before startin' to eat?  Sometimes I need that. It's true.  Sometimes I do.  With the peeps bein' so far away, how were they gonna do that for me?  How would they even know I was needin' that tummy rub?  MOUSES!

Anywho...  The peeps decided to return home without havin' lunch but first they were gonna stop at this big discount kind of store thingy on the way.  I wonder if they knew they were delayin' my tummy rubs.  Bet they did.  Bet that was their plan.  Probably their plan right from the start.  Again I must say, MOUSES!

They say that what doesn't kill you will make you stronger.  Well I say, lunch without tummy rubs and kisses on the back of my head might just very well kill me.  I mean, a cat could STARVE waitin' for his tummy rubs.  The very thought of it makes me weak with hunger.  Too weak to even say...  you know...  MOUSES!

Hours and hours AND HOURS passed before the peeps finally arrived home.  That's right, they were gone for hours!  Must have been at least four, I think.  Don't know how we cats survived.

Those peeps of mine arrived home a little on the grumpy side.  Apparently, peeps who miss their lunches get grumpy.  Who knew?

The first thing Peep #1 did was scoop me up into her arms.  Then she showed me the book she found at the big discount store thingy.  It was a cookbook.

Now before you get all excited there, cookbooks themselves cannot be eaten for lunch.  They're not even good for snackin'.  Little on the dry side, if you know what I mean.  Nothin' but tasteless fibre.

I did perk up my ears a bit at the thought of the peep gettin' a cookbook, though.  Thought maybe she was finally gonna learn how to make my lunches a little more appetizin' by dressin' up the plates with sprigs of nip.  I thought to myself, there's hope for the peep yet!

But the cookbook in question turned out to be a dud.  It was book on cookin' vegetables. VEGETABLES!  Could you believe it?

It's true.  On the cover was a picture of some veggies and the book's title even included the word vegetables, itself.  VEGETABLES.  What good is that?

But being a rather optimistic kitty, it occurred to me that perhaps the author of the book considered catnip to be a veggie like lettuce and kale.  Perhaps he had included some nip recipes.  Perhaps there was a whole chapter on cookin' with the nip.  I scanned the table of contents.  Nothin'.  I carefully looked through the index.  NOTHIN'.  Nothin', nadda, nadingcompoop.  MOUSES!

In fact, poring through the index, I discovered that there wasn't a single good recipe in the lot.  Not only were there no recipes for nip but there were no recipes for anythin' good.  No fish, no poultry, no meat of any kind.  It was just vegetable after vegetable after vegetable.  NOTHIN' BUT VEGGIES.  I'm a cat.  Cats don't eat veggies.  Awww...  MOUSES!

The peep had brought home a totally useless book.  And she had even had the nerve to show it to me.  Why?  WHY?  It's like she was rubbin' salt in my wounds or somethin'.  There I was, practically starvin' from the lack of tummy rubs with my lunch and she's showin' me a book filled with recipes usin' nothin' but veggies.  Oh I have a very mean peep, for sure.

Well in retaliation for leavin' us cats alone to fend for ourselves for four whole hours while they had a good ol' time grumblin' and mumblin' about not bein' able to have lunch themselves, I'm grading 'em.  That's right, I'm giving the peeps stars showin' exactly what I think about their latest performance.  I'll give 'em a star for returnin' home...  eventually.  Gotta give 'em credit for that. And I'll give 'em a star for leavin' our lunches out before they left although there were no accompanying tummy rubs, kisses on the back of the head and not a nip garnish in sight.

Sorry Peepers but you're gettin' two stars out of five.  Yup, two stars at best.

But all is not lost.  Think of this way, Peepers.  Two stars out of five leaves you a lot of room for improvement. Lots and lots of room, for sure.  Let's hope that next time, you pick up at least one more star to give you a passin' grade.

And might I suggest that you start with those nip garnishes I mentioned.  That should get you at least half a star. Yup, at least half a star, for sure.

psst... CAT!

"Don't mind if I do!" I said, swipin' the piece of cheese out of Rushton's paw and gobbling it down, myself. "You're lactose intolerant, remember? Cheese contains lactose so you're not supposed to eat it.  I'm helpin' you out by takin' that cheese and before you say anything about my bein' lactose intolerant, too, remember that I'm not as intolerant as you."

I watched as my brother stomped away, angrily muttering about degrees of intolerance.  Then it was off' to the family room for me.  Time for a little nip mouse indulgence before bedtime.

"Psst....  CAT!"

"MOUSES!"  Yeah, seriously, right before my eyes there stood a mouse.  There was a mouse in my house.  He was looking at me in a weird kind of way but since he was a mouse, I assumed it to be his natural look.  Rollin' over, I went back to sleep.

"Psst...  CAT!" and I felt someone tugging on my whiskers.  "Wake up, cat.  Your assistance is required."

I opened one eye.  The mouse was still there.  I opened the other eye.  Yup, that mouse wasn't goin' anywhere.  Rising from my favourite napping spot de jour, I let out a big yawn.  The mouse cowered in fear.  Guess he thought I was gonna eat him or somethin'.  Instead, I just asked him what he wanted.

"Do you remember me, Sir?  Nerissa the Cat, Sir?  M1 is my name.  We met last year during all that nastiness regarding the great cheese conspiracy and those issues with the Canadian Cheese Consortium."

I nodded in recollection.  "Yup, I remember that.  You ever deal with that rat, The Big Cheese?"

"He's not a rat," answered M1.  He's really just a mouse like the rest of us although if you were to ask him, he'd probably disagree.  He does think rather highly of himself.  Thinks he's better than the rest of us, you see.  Doesn't realise he's just a mouse like you and me.  Well, like me," and I detected a slight flush of pink spreading across M1's cheeks.

M1 sat down and pulled out a ledger.  Pawing it over, I immediately saw the problem.  "MOUSES! That rat - I mean, mouse - is up to no good.  What's he playin' at now?" I questioned, although truth be told, I already had my answer.  "Take me to The Big Cheese, M1.  He's got some explainin' to do, for sure."

Just as before, M1 led me into my kitchen where space and time had morphed in weird and wonderful ways and the room that had once been the kitchen had turned into a great hall filled with tiny little mouse-sized chairs.  In each chair sat a mouse.  No, wait a minute.  Some of the chairs were empty.  I gazed around the room, counting the empty chairs.  Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen... "MOUSES!" I cried.  "It's true, you are missin' sixteen mice.  Now I just wanna point out that I had nothin' to do with that.  I filled up on cheese before visitin'."

M1 tapped me on the paw.  "Don't worry, Nerissa.  No one is blaming you.  We all know what really happened to the missing mice."

And I knew as well for I had carefully read the ledger M1 had previously shown me.  The missing mice had simply disappeared, one after another.  Some had retired.  Others, resigned.  They all had their reasons for leaving but after leaving, in order to keep the predestined balance of the Consortium...  well...  balanced, those mice should have been replaced.  Apparently, the great hall was experiencing a mouse shortage.  Who knew that was even possible?

I padded softly through the chamber, stopping where I could easily be seen by all.  I flicked my tail and accidentally took out one of the front row seats.  "Sorry 'bout that.  Room's a little small for a cat, if you know what I mean."  A number of mice snickered, nervously.

"Now bring me The Big Cheese," I demanded.

Several mice appeared before me, dragging a gigantic wheel of Gouda.

"Not that big cheese," I cried. "Although...  hold on a minute there.  I'll just have a little bite..."

The mice scattered.

"Not a bite of you.  Mouses you mice are a sensitive lot.  I'll just take a little bite of that cheese."

It was delicious.

Then before me appeared the mouse with the steely blue eyes and exceptionally long tail, otherwise known as The Big Cheese.  He narrowed his eyes and asked, "What do you want, cat?"

"That's Nerissa the Cat, to you, buddy.  We have to have a little talk about the sixteen missing members of the Cheese Consortium.  My question is, why are they missing?"

"You're asking me about missing mice?  Me?  A little ol' mouse?  REALLY?  Shouldn't you be asking your fellow cats where all the mice have gone?"

I lay down before The Big Cheese, striking my very best sphinx pose.  "Cats had nothing to do with those missing mice, my friend.  Don't try playin' cat and mouse games with me.  That's a game that never ends well for the mouse."  I let out a low growl and The Big Cheese looked furtively about the room, looking for somewhere to hide.  I grabbed him by the tail and held on.  The stink of Gorgonzola permeated the air about him.  He seriously needed to start eatin' more Cheddar.

"Now listen up, buddy.  I've seen the ledgers belonging to the Canadian Cheese Consortium and I know what you're doing.  Several of the cheese divisions are lackin' in representation.  I thought you liked appointing members to the Consortium.  Even goin' so far as to appoint mice who weren't even qualified to represent the divisions they were supposed to be representin'."

"That's true, I did.  But that was then and this is now.  Unfortunately, some of the mice I appointed caused some trouble.  So I thought to myself, why appoint any at all?  Things in the Consortium are going very nicely for me.  They're running quite smoothly.  Gorgonzola production is up.  Means of transporting the Gorgonzola are being worked out.  No one here has even tried to stop me.  The Consortium is working exactly as it should."

I narrowed my eyes and stared directly at the little mouse known as The Big Cheese.  "We talked about this the last time I visited, remember?  The Consortium doesn't serve you.  It serves the mice of Mouseland.  All of them.  Not just the Gorgonzola lovers.  Without equal representation, the Consortium cannot possibly work as it should.  It cannot and is not.  Somethin' needs to be done about that."

The Big Cheese narrowed his eyes and peered right at me.  Pompously puffing out his chest he said, "The Consortium is working exactly as I wish for it to work."

That's when I realised that what M1 had said earlier was true.  The Big Cheese had begun to think far too highly of himself.  He was nothin' more than a mouse and yet, for some reason, he thought he was the chosen one or somethin'.  Like he was better than the rest of the mice.  Clearly, The Big Cheese had gone squirrely.  I watched as he stuffed some more Gorgonzola into his mouth.

"Listen up, mouse," I began.  "I'm puttin' you on notice.  That's right, I, Nerissa the Cat, am puttin' you, The Big Cheese, on notice.  Either you make sure that all four divisions of the Canadian Cheese Consortium are represented equally or I will make it happen, myself."

"What are you going to do, cat?  Take over the Consortium?" and The Big Cheese grinned.

"It's a thought," I replied.  Our eyes met.  "If cats were to take over the Canadian Cheese Consortium..."

The Big Cheese tried to step back but I still had hold of his tail.  "Cats can't..." he sputtered.

"Cats can't what, Mr. Cheese?"

The Big Cheese cowered.

"Like I said, either you make sure all four divisions of the Consortium are fairly and equally represented or I will make it happen, for you."  Letting go of his tail, I turned to leave but not before adding, "And do somethin' about your breath, would you?  You're stinkin' of cheese.  MOUSES!"

"Mice," I heard, whispered in unison as those darned grammar mice of the great hall explained, "The plural of mouse, is mice."

MOUSES!

tried and true

Hey there!  Hmmm... Probably a little too casual.  Scratch that.

How ya doin', dude?  That one is definitely too casual. Plus, I don't know if he ever goes by the name, dude.

What's up, pussy cat?  Nah, that's for cats.  Not really appropriate for him.

What to do...  What to do...

I guess this is one of those times when it's best to go with the tried and true.  It's an oldie but a goody and, I suspect, it'll be perfect for this occasion.

Dear Santa...  Yup, that's gonna work, for sure.

Dear Santa, Nissy here.  Just droppin' you a note 'cause Christmas is right around the corner.  You all ready for Christmas, Santa?  Got your lists all ready and whatnot?  Got any big plans?  Well plans other than what you'll be doin' on Christmas Eve, of course.  Flyin' around the world in one night is about as big as anyone's plans can possibly get, I suppose.  Any plans other than that? Mrs. Clause doin' the big dinner thing with turkey and whatnot?  Just you and the Mrs. or will the elves and their families be join' you, too?

Hmmm...  Perhaps I should just get down to business and give the ol' guy in red my list.  I should do that right now.

Bet you're all wonderin' what I've asked for, from Santa, this year.  Bet you're all wonderin', for sure.

I finally got my letter ready to mail and it's a good one.  Got my paws crossed that I've been a good boy.  Good enough to have at least some of my wishes answered.

First thing I asked for is nip.  I bet you saw that one comin'!  I love the nip.  Actually, my whole fur-fam loves the stuff so it makes the perfect gift, for sure.  Of course, the traditional nip mouse is always welcome under our Christmas tree.  I asked Santa to bring one for each of us along with a biff bag or two.  You know, so that we'd each have our own.  Nip mice aren't really the best things for sharin' on account of the slobber effect, you see.

I also asked Santa to bring a couple of those long fabric kickin' bag thingies with the nip.  He brought us a couple last year but, unfortunately, they need replacin'.  Someone went and peed on 'em.  It wasn't me!  Or should that be I?  Anywho...  I was not the culprit.  I'm not exactly sure who it was although I do have my suspicions.  Should have run a DNA test at the time.  Yup, should have run a test before Ol' Peepers threw out all the evidence.  MOUSES!

Next on my list to Santa is a portable DNA testing lab.  Yup, I need one of those, for sure.

Did you know that when a cat calls up the RCMP, askin' them to do a DNA test on a peed upon nip toy, they laugh at you?  Well they do.  Trust me, I know.  I figure that if I have my own lab, I won't have to ask 'em again.  And since their lab appears to be somewhat busy - too busy to run tests on peed upon nip toys - perhaps they'll wanna hire me to do some testin' for them.  It's worth a shot. Plus, I'll work for nip.  Pretty good deal, if you ask me.  Especially if one has a good supply of the nip.

My new brother, Anderson, asked specially for the third item in my letter.  I really don't think Santa can make this one happen but I promised Andy that I'd ask, anyway.  As some of you may have heard, Andy got himself neutered the other day.  He's wantin' his boy parts back.  Well that's just not gonna happen but, like I said, I promised and you know, a promise is a promise, so I added it to the list.

I felt it necessary to ask Santa to bring somethin' for the peeps, too, so I asked him to bring 'em some extra nip.  The peeps aren't really into the nip but I figure that I can take any extra stuff off their paws for 'em.  Yup, my fur-fam and I are willin' to help 'em out with any extra nip, for sure.

I know that Peep #1 would love some seed for some white-flowered plumeria on account of my ten-pin flowerpot bowlin' event not goin' over so well, last year.  Well actually, we cats all enjoyed the event, thoroughly.  The plumeria plants though...  well...  not so much.

Suffice it to say, the peep could do with some more seed for some white-flowered plumies but honestly, it's not that important.  It belongs pretty much at the bottom of my list.  Plants aren't actually required for flowerpot bowlin'.  We really just need the flowerpots.

That reminds me.  I should tack on some new flowerpots to my list for Santa.  Did you know that clay pots break when they roll around on the sun room floor and bang into one another?  Well they do.  Trust me, I know.  MOUSES!

What Peep #1 would really like for Christmas is a book about growin' nip.  I've searched the Internet, high and low, lookin' for a copy of Growin' Nip for Dummies but so far, I've had no luck.  It appears that this book has not yet been written.  If someone doesn't write it soon, I'm gonna have to do it myself.  I'm hopin' though that my lack of findin' a copy is actually due to it bein' out-of-stock or somethin'.  You know, 'cause of its high demand and all.  Believe you me, a book about growin' nip would be very much in demand, for sure.

And speakin' of books in demand.  Have you all read Herman's latest book, Finding Mya?  You all know Herman, right?  He's my best friend.  My best friend forever.  You know, my BFF.

Anywho...  Herman wrote the most amazin' book.  It's called Finding Mya, he can't live Happily Ever After without her.  I had the pleasure of readin' this book before it was ever published and, in fact, I even wrote one of those recommendation blurby thingies that appear on books.

Finding Mya is wonderful.  You're gonna laugh and you're gonna cry.  I know I did.  The story is so touching and loving.  But it has more than its fair share of suspense, too.  It's a real page turner.  Once you start, you won't stop readin' until the very end.  Yup, it's that good, for sure.

I, of course, already have a signed copy but if you're lookin' for a great gift for peeps out there who love cats, a copy of Finding Mya is perfect.  You can get a copy on Amazon, I do believe.  Hmmm..  Where did I put that link?  Let me see...  Got it! You can get your very own copy of this wonderful book, right here.... Finding Mya on Amazon.

I wonder if Santa has that link.  What if he doesn't?  I had better mention that at the end of my letter to him.  You know me, I like to be helpful.

But back to my letter to Santa.

So for this year, I asked Santa to bring my fur-fam and me some nip and a portable DNA lab.  And a book on growin' nip for the peep and maybe some white-flowered plumeria seed if he finds any lyin' around at the North Pole.  I figured that that would cover all my bases but then I remembered the most important request of all.

Well, most important, right after the nip.  I mean, I HAVE TO HAVE MY NIP.

I asked Santa to bring loving homes to all the kitties out there who don't already have one.  There are an awful lot of homeless cats in this world and the best gift anyone could ever give any of them is a warm, safe home with loving peeps.

But it really isn't a good idea to get a kitty right at Christmas time.  And whatever you do, don't put 'em in a box and wrap it up.  That works well for cartoons and stuff but NOT for real, live cats. MOUSES!

And please remember, there's so much noise and stuff goin' on in homes on Christmas Day.  All that hullabaloo is pretty scary for a kitty.  Best to introduce kitties to their new homes either before or after the holidays.  And, of course, it's never a good idea to give someone else a kitty as a gift. Peeps do that all the time and the next thing you know, those kitties end up right back at the shelter after the holidays.  So sad.  So very, very sad.

So how 'bout this?  A prettily wrapped-up box with a note inside, promising to take a special someone to a local shelter to adopt a kitty after the holidays.  Wow.  That's just about the best Christmas present anyone could ever get or give.  Well...  the best gift right after nip but you know, hard to top the nip thing.

So I'm hopin' that Santa will leave lots of notes under Christmas trees this year.  Lots of notes with promises to adopt kitties who need homes, thereby givin' those kitties, the gift of a loving home.

But if you wanna beat Santa at his own game - and you know you do - how 'bout goin' to your local shelter before Christmas?  How 'bout goin' to your local shelter today or tomorrow or sometime next week and adopting a kitty right now?  That will give the kitty plenty of time to adjust before the holidays AND that kitty will have a loving home for the holidays.  It's kind of a win-win-win situation.  You get a new, loving family member and the kitty gets a safe, loving home and you get to beat Santa at his own game.  You get to beat Santa to the punch.  You get to out-do the great Clause, himself, by givin' the very best gift of all.

Well, the very best gift right after - or possibly tied with - the nip.

Hmmm...  Beat Santa to the punch.  I wonder if there's nip in that punch.  Interestin'...  Better add another win to that win-win-win thing 'cause a bowl of nip punch is a win for all, for sure. MOUSES!