run for your life!

Run Peepers!  RUN! RUN!!!  Run for your life, Peepers!  Run for all nine of them!

Oh yeah, you're just a peep.  You only have the one life.  Means you have to run all the harder.  Run!  RUN!  Run like you've never run before!!!

Earlier that day...

Earlier that day, I spotted Peep #1 waving her arms around in the air and making weird sounds of distress.  "Arr!  Arrgh!  Grrrr!  MOUSES!"  Stuff like that.  Not her normal speech patterns at all. Oddly enough, I couldn't see who the recipient of the weird peep grunts and growls was. The peep appeared to be all alone.  All alone with arms flailing while making weird noises.  MOUSES!

Of course, I assumed the obvious.  The peep had finally gone over the edge.

And they said that WE CATS would be the ones to drive her over the edge.  Nothing doing. There wasn't a cat in sight.  Besides, none of us have an actual driver's licence so clearly, we can't drive her anywhere let alone over some fictitious edge.  MOUSES!

Unable to see anyone hanging around, ready to dress up the peep in a straight jacket, I then assumed that she was doing some sort of dance.  Perhaps Peep #1 was thinking of auditioning for one of those television dancing shows.  Dancing with the Peeps or something like that.

Of course, any delusions the peep may have had of being able to make it onto Dancing with the Peeps would be confirmation of the need for that straight jacket, for sure.

Then I thought...  RAIN DANCE.  Actually, that could still be a possibility as today...  well...  it rained.  MOUSES!

Did I say rain?  Actually, it poured but that's beside the point, I think.  Or is it?  Perhaps it was a very successful dance.  Nah, it didn't look very successful to me.

Anyway, the peep was doing her thing, looking all weird and stuff and making silly noises when eventually she gave up on the dancing and came inside.  "Those **** bugs!" she cried.

Ahhh...  of course.  Bug season.  She had been swatting the bugs.  Grunting and growling at them, too.  Not sure what good grunting and growling does though.  Do bugs have ears?  I don't know.  Do you?

"I have some stuff I can dab on the back of your neck, Peepers," I said.  "Works for fleas and ticks.  Might work for skeeters, too."

The peep just looked at me as if I was talking nonsense.  MOUSES!

"Where's that candle..." she muttered.

"Candle!" I cried.  "Candles are for decorating and sealing important letters.  Why would you want that?"

"I bought a citronella candle last week..." and the peep started searching through my office.

Clearly, I needed to do something about this.  Citronella sounded suspiciously like citrus and I, as a cat, have an aversion to lemons and oranges and the like.  I don't like them one bit.  No way was I going to have the peep stinking up the house with citrus!

"What you need, Peepers, is some nip," I suggested.  "I've heard that by growing vast fields of nip all over the place, you can keep those skeeters at bay."

The peep stared blankly ahead as if she hadn't heard me at all.  Was there something wrong with her hearing?  MOUSES!

"Aha!" cried the peep with satisfaction.  "Now where are those matches?"

I watched Peep #1 head out the door with her lit Citronella candle in tow.  Well at least she was taking it outside, I thought to myself.  At least she's not stinking up the house with that thing.

Shortly afterwards, the peep returned with her precious candle, it's flame extinguished.  I peered inside the glass container only to see a dead skeeter.  The darned things apparently liked the smell of citronella and were drawn to it like moths to a.... Interesting.  Moths to a flame.  MOUSES!

I looked up at the peep.  She was looking kind of blotchy and stuff.  Either she was allergic to that smelly candle or she had been exerting herself too much by flailing her arms about at those mosquitoes.  Either way, she didn't look good.

"Do you know what you really need, Peepers?  What you really need is a space suit," I suggested. "Those bugs will never get through that.  You have a space suit on paw?"

And once again the peep behaved as if she hadn't heard me.  Was she being rude or were those little red bumps on her face causing her ear canals to swell?  Skeeter bites, I muttered under my breath.

"You know, you really shouldn't let the mosquitoes bite you like that," I told her but it was like I was talking to deaf ears.  MOUSES!

"Yeah, Peepers, you REALLY need a space suit and while you're at it, how about getting some make-up or something.  I saw this show on television once where make-up artists made people up to look like aliens and monsters and..."

That got her attention.  She looked at me quizzically.

"I'm not suggesting you get them to make you look like an alien, Peepers," I continued.  "I just think that if they can do stuff like that, they can certainly hide that shiner of yours."

The peep appeared bewildered.  Not the first time I've seen her looking like that. Probably won't be the last, either.

"The shiner.  Your shiner.  You look like you have a black eye.  Not a good look, Peepers. Actually, it's kind of gross.  You need to do something about that.  Cover it up or something. That's why I'm suggesting the make-up."

Clearly the peep was unaware that one of those mosquitoes had bitten her just under the eye and left a  bit of a bruise.  MOUSES!

And that's when I saw the peep grabbing the garden secateurs.   "YOU CAN'T FIGHT SKEETERS WITH SECATEURS!" I hollered after her as she ignored me and headed out the door.

I watched from the window while Peep #1 walked over to a lilac bush and started cutting a bouquet of lilacs to bring into the house.  Silly peep.  Would she survive?  Would I ever see her again?

Within minutes, Peep #1 was frantically waving her arms about in the air.  Lilacs in one hand, secateurs in the other and the arm flailing was growing more and more frenzied.  This was not good. One wrong move with those secateurs and...  I closed my eyes, too scared to watch.

I dared to open one eye to take a peek.  The peep was jumping up and down, doing the dance of all dances.  I didn't know if I should laugh or cry.  And that's when it hit me.  I decided that my best plan of action was to TAKE NOTES!

So I did my duty and called out to the peep to run away from the skeeters before sitting down at the computer and starting to type.

Large swarms of killer mosquitoes attacking silly peeps who think they can ward them off with smelly candles after an unusually long winter with record high snowfalls.  All I needed to add was some government official forbidding anyone to utter the words climate change or global warming.  You know, thereby encouraging the public to believe that all is well with the world even though it really isn't.  And a love interest!  These movies always have a love interest of some sort. Someone from the past.  Not time travelling past.  Just someone the peep hasn't seen in a few years.  And, of course, a major character or two will need to be killed off about two thirds in.  Hmm...  which neighbours do I like the least?

Oh my goodness,  I've got the makings of a major prime-time, made-for-television, ratings-making movie here, for sure.  MOUSES!

up on the rooftop

Kinkamarinky-dinky-dink-a-shinnamasinky-cowinky-dink.

Oh yeah, I've got some red spell check squiggles there, for sure.  MOUSES!

It's just a made-up word.  I think.

Nissy used to make up words all the time. Some of his made-up words are classics like, you know...  MOUSES!  Yup, Nissy had the gift.

Anyway, let me tell you about the kink. The kink in the hose.  The kink in the kink-proof hose.  MOUSES!

Peep #1 has had to replace a few garden hoses in the last couple of years.  One got left out all winter and winter was not kind to it at all.  Another one just got old and split a gasket.  No, that's not right.  It actually blew its top.  It's true.  The end with the metal part that connected it to other hoses and sprinklers and stuff just blew right off and water started spewing all over the place everywhere,  Everywhere except where it was supposed to be spewing, that is.

Oh yeah, and then there was the hose that...  Never mind.  We don't need to talk about that one. Let me just say that the claw marks were not mine.   MOUSES!

Bottom line is, the garden hoses needed replacing.

So last year, the peep decided to start replacing them with those kink-proof hoses.  Have you ever heard of those?  They're supposed to never kink.

I don't know who dreamt up that little marketing scheme but let me tell you, he or she should first have actually invented a kink-proof hose before going around, selling them.  MOUSES!

Let's just say...  THEY KINK.

Have you ever watched a peep struggling with a garden hose that's kinking up all over the place?  I have.  Good times, for sure.

Actually, I was wondering if I would see the peep going through the garden hose hijinks this year. For two or three weeks, she carted watering can after watering can all over the garden.  I thought that maybe she had surrendered to the kink-proof hose that kinks even though it's kink-proof and given up the battle.  Turned out she was just being lazy.

Apparently, Peep #1 thought it would be easier to make a million and one trips back and forth with the watering can than to make one trip hauling the garden hose out of the garage.  Silly peep.

Eventually she figured out that it was actually easier to deal with the hose, once, than the watering can a million and one times so after a couple evenings of the watering can relays, she hauled out the hose. That's when I got to see her in action.  She was half dragging it, half carrying it, half tripping...  Scratch that.  She was one third dragging it, one third carrying it, one third tripping over it and stumbling all over the place but eventually, she managed to get the first garden hose out of the garage.

The other two are still in there.  MOUSES!

Watering can relays are still taking place however their track has been somewhat shortened.

You'd think that she would figure out that it's easier to haul out a second hose than to fill up hundreds upon hundreds of watering cans that need to be lugged way over to the far end of the garden even if she is now lugging them only half the distance.  Sometimes I wonder about that peep.  MOUSES!

And you know, some of the plants over to where she's lugging those watering cans are getting really thirsty.  It was 28C today which is pretty hot.  Too hot for thirsty plants and way too hot for lugging cans full of water.  MOUSES!

Weatherpeeps said that it was 28C but felt more like 33C.  Humidex, they call that, I think.

Most people check out the weather forecast to find out about the humidity but I just look at the peep.  I always know when it's humid outside on account of Peep #1's hair.  If there are any stray little hairs around her hairline, they get all curly when it's humid.  Well some say curls.  Others might say frizz.  But it only happens when it's humid.  Yesterday her hair was straight but today... BOINNNGGGGG!!!!!

My fur doesn't do that and thank goodness for that.  MOUSES!

But did you hear what happened to me the other night?   Has nothing to do with garden hoses or humidity but is very important, nonetheless.  Very important as what it does have to do with is me. MOUSES!

The other night, I got stuck up on the roof!  It's true.  I was up there on the roof of the house and the peep was down on the ground calling and calling and calling my name.  She called me for goodness knows how long.  It seemed like forever.  An eternity!  Maybe ten minutes or so.

I was answering her but not very loudly and the peepers were out in full force so the peep couldn't hear my pitiful cries above the noise those peepers were making.  Then their throats must have gotten hoarse or something or maybe they just decided to take a coffee break because after the longest of times, they paused their peeper cries and Peep #1 finally heard me.

I should just clarify that peepers are not the same thing as peeps.  Just saying...

Anyway, the peep thought she heard me and she thought my soft cries were coming from the roof but she couldn't see me as it was dark.  So she ran inside the house to get a flashlight and when she returned, she shone said flashlight way, way up and lo and behold, there I was.  Then she made some stupid joke about Christmas in July being in May this year and my being up on the rooftop. There were no reindeer present.  Too bad, had Rudolf been around, the peep could have had him shine his nose up at me instead of going in to fetch that flashlight.  MOUSES!

Luckily, the peep and I have done this before.  She went inside and opened the upstairs bathroom window at the back of the house.  It's a small window but an okay size for a cat to get through. Even a marmie cat like me.  A peep wouldn't fit through it.  Peepers might though.

So the peep shone the flashlight up into the air and waved it about while calling my name.  I headed up and over the roof of the house and round to the back and climbed inside.  Got some cuddles for that.  Couple kisses, too.  MOUSES!

Now last night, Rushton was out late and the peep was walking around on the driveway at midnight, in her nightdress, calling and calling his name. Talk about a peep show!  Did that for ages and ages but Rushy wasn't answering.  Peep #1 wondered if perhaps he had managed to get himself stuck up on the roof just as I had, the night before, so she came inside for a flashlight but before heading back out, she quickly checked upstairs.  Turned out he had been inside all along.  Yup, sound asleep on a bedroom floor. MOUSES!

Tonight it will be Anderson's turn to make some mischief.  I wonder what he has planned.  I shall blog about it if it's funny, for sure.  MOUSES!

I've been spammed!

I've been spammed. MOUSES!

I've heard of this kind of thing before.  I remember Nissy telling me about spammers on more than one occasion.  He had this stalker, you see.  Mr. Anonymous Spam was his name and spamming was his game. MOUSES!

Actually, spamming appears to still be his game because on the suggestion of the peep, I checked out the old spam folder here on my blog and you'll never believe what I found.  I FOUND SPAM!  As the third time is the charm... MOUSES!!!

There were so many.  Dozens upon dozens upon dozens.  Four, five, SIX dozen comments all left by Nissy's stalker, Mr. Anonymous Spam.  Apparently, he is now stalking me.  MOU...  Nah, three mouses are probably enough for now.

You'll be happy to know that I deleted them all but you'll be even happier to know that prior to deleting, I took some notes.  Not on all of them.  There were too many for that!  Just on some choice ones which I will now share with all of you.  So kick back, put your paws up and grab a nip beer.  This is going to be good.

"Very good article.  I will be facing some of these issues as well."   From reading this comment, we can assume that Mr. Anonymous Spam is a time traveller, like me.  Or should that be I?  Anyway, he will be facing some of the issues that Nissy and I faced when we travelled back in time to adjust the recipe for the very first pumpkin pie made by American settlers for the very first American Thanksgiving.

"Hi I know this is kind of off topic but I was wondering if you knew where I could find a captcha plugin for my comment form."  Hmmm...  If I had one of those, I'd probably use it to stop Mr. Anonymous Spam from spamming me.  Something to think about, for sure.

"I was able to find good information from your articles."  Now this comment was left on Nissy's blog post about spies being everywhere.  I guess Mr. Spam is looking out for spies, too.  MOUSES!

"Thank you a lot for sharing this with all of us.  You actually understand what you are talking about!" Oh.  OH!  Nah, this one wasn't spam.  I do know what I'm talking about.  Nice to have someone recognize that.

"I'd like to send you an e-mail.  I've got some ideas for your blog." No thank you, Mr. Spam.  I WRITE ALL MY OWN STUFF!  Just like Nissy used to do.

"Howdy, I read your blog occasionally and I own a similar one and I was just wondering if you get a lot of spam comments?  I get so much lately it's driving me insane." You and me both, brother. You and me both.  Hehehe...

"Every data is quality based data."  Now this is only funny when you take into account that it was left on Nissy's post about Peep #1 going without coffee for an entire day.  Yeah, twenty-four hours. Could you believe it?  Or perhaps it's not funny at all.  I mean, a coffeeless peep is incredibly scary. I know, I've seen it first-paw.  We cats have got to get the word out that peeps should never be allowed to go without coffee.  MOUSES!

"This post reminds me of my previous room mate!  He always kept talking about this."  Apparently, Mr. Anonymous Spam once lived with some guy who teleported to Ireland with his brother in search of four-leafed clovers being grown by leprechauns on clover farms so that they could bring some back to their peep.  MOUSES!

Nice to know that Mr. Spam found Nissy's post about nosey-neighbour-cat to be "equally educative and engaging."

"Galwanizarja zdecydowanic poprawic wlaseiwosci..."  What the mouses?

"You need to check the spelling of several of your posts.  Many of them are rife with spelling problems and I to find it very bothersome to inform the reality."  Oh yeah?  Well at least I used the corrrect words!  MOUSES!

What's more, did you read the previous comment you left?  What's a zdecydowanic?  Inquiring minds want to know.

"I do not understand how you are not actually much more smartly-preferred than you may be right now.  You're very intelligent!"  Well thank you, Mr. Spam. I appreciate that very much.

"Hey there!  Would you mind if f share your blog with my myspace group?"  Myspace still exists?  Who knew?

"Many persons are searching around for this information."  Yeah, lots of peeps and anipals out there want to know a lot more about nosey-neighbour-cat, for sure.

"Your website is loading extremely slow for me."  Well, you know, maybe you clicked on some spammy link left by an anonymous commenter going by the name of Spam and caught a bug or something.  Just saying...

"I'm curious to know how you centre yourself and clear your mind before writing."  Nip.  I take lots of nip.

"I do not know who you are but definitely you're going to be a famous blogger if you are not already." Oh, sorry.  That wasn't spam.  Found that inside a fortune cookie.  MOUSES!

"You're so awesome!"  Awww..  Thanks.  So nice of you to tell me that.

"Pengin beli Mancester city, Spartacos, ajax semua ready di toko ini..."  And again, you have the nerve to complain about my spelling errors?  MOUSES!

And finally, the piece de resistance.  Hmm...   I think there are supposed to be a couple of accents or something on those French words but I'll be darned if I know how to make that happen on this keyboard.  MOUSES!

Anyway, here's what Mr. Spam wrote as his parting comment.  "When I initially commented I clicked the 'notify me when new comments are added' checkbox and now each time a comment is added I get four e-mails with the same comment."  Hmm...  Let's see...  Uh...  Actually, I think there is no explanation needed for this.

I did mention that Mr. Anonymous Spam left several dozen comments on my blog, didn't I?  All within the last little while?  And he's getting four e-mails per comment?  Hmm...  Four e-mails times several dozen...  THAT'S A WHOLE LOT OF E-MAILS!  Priceless, that is.  PRICELESS.

And speaking of comments.  I have a confession to make.

I LOVE reading comments from all of you.  I know that Nissy did, too.  I also know that Nissy made a point of visiting your blogs regularly.  I, on the other paw, haven't been visiting very much at all.

It's not that I don't want to!  I DO!  It's just that even though it has been a few weeks since my brother died, at my house, we're still coming to terms with his loss.  We're just still all kind of sad.

And when you're sad, sometimes you don't feel up to writing cute little comments, you know?  But I love reading them!  It's just really hard to write them.  I feel almost as if by doing so, I'm being too happy when I shouldn't be feeling happy at all because what I really should be doing is missing my brother, Nissy, and feeling sad.

I know I'm not explaining myself very well.  Nissy would do it better.  I'm still struggling. I had hoped that I would be up to visiting blogs and doing more on Twitter and Facebook this week but I now think I might need at least one more week before I can do that.  Just a tad more time.  That's all I need.

But I want you all to know that I LOVE YOU and that I will start visiting your blogs very soon.  I know that Nissy used to love reading your posts.  I'm positive that I will love doing so, too, as soon as I'm able.  And I want you all to know that I'm not ignoring you or somehow taking advantage of the situation and not bothering to visit.  It's not that I'm not bothering.  It's just that I'm still really sad.

Best I can do right now, I think, is make sure the blog posts continue to go up.  Well that, and mock Mr. Anonymous Spam.  Nissy always said he found mocking the old spammer extremely therapeutic and to be perfectly honest, he was right. Oh yeah, he was right about that, for sure.  In fact, I'm already feeling a little bit better after writing this post.  Another one of these and I should be good to go!  MOUSES!

Mouses and PURRS.

I'm a dude

I'm a dude.  Oh yeah, totally. Everyone says so, so it must be true. MOUSES!

It's kind of funny, in a way.  Not funny as in ha-ha and not funny as in the funny farm either.  Or maybe it is...  No, what it is, is funny in an odd sort of way but no one - and I repeat, NO ONE - is being shipped off to any kind of farm.

Well at least I'm not.  Can't speak for my fur-sibs, of course.

Or for that matter, the peeps.

Yeah, Peep #1 has had a one-way, first-class, all expenses pre-paid ticket for the funny farm for quite some time now.  I saw it tucked away in one of her dresser drawers.

Right next to her drawers.  Hehehehee....

But how does one farm humour, anyway? I mean, if a potato farm grows potatoes, should a funny farm not grow funny?  Or maybe stuff just grows funnily, with the emphasis on the ly.

Anyway, what I'm about to tell you is funny in an odd sort of way.  It's not funny that I am a dude but rather, that everyone seems to know that I am.

I guess it's true what they say.  A rose by any other name would still be a rose.  Well a dude by any other name would still be a dude even if his other name happens to be Seville.  Let me explain.

Way back when, when I first came to live with the peeps, Peep #1 started calling me, every now and then, her dude.  She would call me her Big Orange Dude or something like that.  I never really thought much about it.  After all, I am orange and being a dude seemed like an okay thing to be.

Then one day, when I was at the doctor's office, one of the nurses looked at me and called me - you guessed it - a dude!  I believe the adjective handsome was used, as well.

Now even though this was the second person to call me a dude, I still didn't think all that much about it as I was already used to Peep #1 calling me her Big Orange Dude but then the peep pointed out that even though she called me that, she had never called me that in front of the nurse.  Or any of the other nurses.  Or my doctor, either.  This nurse had just called me a dude because, I assume, I looked like a dude.

Of course, the nurse did not call me her dude which only stands to reason as I wasn't hers.  Not that I'm the peep's, either.  It's more like the peep belongs to me but that is another topic for another post, best left for another day.  MOUSES!

So then there were two.  Not two dudes.  There's only one Seville.  No, there were two people saying that I looked like a dude.  But what's two out of a few billion?

But then I took over Nerissa's blog and social media accounts and that's when things started getting funny.  Again, funny as in odd in only a very slightly humorous way but on no accounts was anyone going to take up farming in the land of the funny. Ranching, however, was a totally different matter.

Although if one could farm humour it would be a very wonderful thing.  Pretty funny, too.  MOUSES!

But as I was saying, I took over Nissy's accounts on the Internet and that's when I noticed that more and more people were calling me a dude.  Bloggers and tweeters and Facebook peeps and anipals.  In fact, at least three cats have called me a dude in the last week!  At least three!  And who knows how many others have thought it without actually typing the word.

So I thought to myself, perhaps I should check out the definition of this word, dude.  You know, just to be sure it's okay.

Luckily for me, Nissy had all those dictionaries on paw so checking out the definition of dude was easy as easy can be.

And it turns out that being called a dude is A-okay, for sure.  Well, of course, I did know that all along.  I had already deduced it.  You see, I'm a dude and I'm okay so being a dude must be okay, too.  MOUSES!

A dude refers to a person or in my case, cat, who concerns himself with clothes, grooming and manners.  At least, that was one definition.  There were several, you see.

Well I'm not too keen on the whole clothing thing but I am very much into grooming.  I groom myself daily.  And as for the manners?  I am very polite.

What's that Peepers?  Oh, that.  Yeah, well I only peed on you once.  Perhaps it wasn't the most mannerly thing to do but constantly bringing up the transgression isn't, either.  MOUSES!

But as I was saying, I am very into grooming.  I groom myself daily.  Sometimes semi-daily.  Semi-daily?  Is that twice a day or once every two days?  MOUSES!

Sometimes...

Wait a minute!  STOP THE PRESSES!  I am into clothes.  I don't wear store bought ones but the appearance of my orange fur is extremely important to me.  I always keep it sparkly clean.  And I might consider wearing additional clothes if I had access to ones that suited me.

If the peep would be so kind as to make me a little velvet forest green vest, I might consider wearing it.  Perhaps a little vest with a pocket.  And in that pocket I could keep a watch.  A pocket watch, no less.  A wrist watch would be out of the question as it might catch and pull at my fur, you see.  Plus, looking at my paws, I don't actually have any wrists.  MOUSES!

But a little gold pocket watch tucked into the pocket of a velvet green vest with some gold brocade and buttons would do quite nicely.  And, of course, I would need a cane.  No, a walking stick. Sounds so much better, don't you think?  And a hat!  A hat with a feather, perhaps.

Some might say that a dude should wear a cowboy hat and, I suppose, that really might be fitting but in all honesty, I think a hat with a feather really would look better with that velvet vest.  Velvet with a satin lining would be nice.  And since I am a dude, I'm supposed to be concerned with my appearance so really, if anyone would know it would be me.

Yes, I need a vest, a walking stick and a feathered hat.  And a pocket watch!  Dressed up like that, I would be the dappiest...  Nah, that doesn't sound right.  It actually doesn't sound very good. Dressed up like that, I'd be the MOST DAPPER of dudes in all of the land.

And speaking of land, I might also need a ranch.  While checking out the definition of dude, I came across a thing called a Dude Ranch.  Didn't really look into it all that well but it sounds pretty good.

Is dude ranching like farming funnies? Oh my gosh, do they grow dudes? MOUSES!

I should enquire further before booking a ticket, I think.

And in the meantime, I have some work to do.  Oh Peepers...  I need some help over here.  Which of these fabrics should I order on-line for you to make me a vest and should I order you up a pattern, too, or do you already have one of those?  MOUSES!

Nissy's stash

I've been snooping.  I admit it.  It had to be done.  MOUSES!

Actually, the peep is the one that says I've been snooping.  Originally, I was investigating. Apparently, according to the peep, investigating and snooping are the very same thing.  I disagree but as Peep #1 was dishing up breakkies at the time we were having the snooping versus investigating debate, I decided at the last minute to allow her to win.

Actually, I allowed her to win round one.  After I ate my breakkies, I informed Peep #1 what I was doing was far more like investigating than snooping after all.  MOUSES!

Snooping and investigating really aren't the same thing, you see.  If they were, why would we need two different words?  Doesn't make any sense to me at all that there would be two words if snooping and investigating were one and the same.  Don't you agree?

Synonyms...  MOUSES!

But they're NOT synonyms at all.  Well, at least not in my book.  Maybe in someone else's book but in mine, they're not.  They're not cinnamon, either.  Or cloves or nutmeg or...

Gosh this blog post is getting a little spicy, even for me.  MOUSES!

But back on topic.  In my mind, snooping is done when someone is minding someone else's business out of curiosity or mischief making or whatever.  Investigating is when the cat making the enquiries is doing so out of necessity and as we cats are by nature curious, snooping is always necessary.

MOUSES!  I think I just admitted that snooping and investigating are one and the same.  Gosh darn it.

Well investigating sounds way better than snooping so I think I'll stick with that no matter what the peep says.

You know, Nissy was a bit of an investigative reporter.  He was NOT a snoopigative reporter. There isn't even such a thing as a snoopigatvie reporter.  Is there?

But also, Nissy was a cat.  Snoopy is a dog.  Totally different species.

And isn't there some Snoop Dogg person out there? See?  Snoop DOGG.  Clearly snooping is not for cats.  Must be a peep and doggy thing, I think. Makes sense to me!

Anyway, I was snooping...

I MEAN INVESTIGATING!

MOUSES!!!

While INVESTIGATING Nissy's office the other day, I came across his stash.  I know what you're thinking.  You're thinking I came across a big old stash of the nip or something and to be perfectly honest, I was thinking that I would come across something like that, too, while snooping... INVESTIGATING Nissy's office.  Unfortunately, no such luck.

What I did find though was a whole whack of books.  You should see them all!  I always knew that the peep and Nissy had shelves and shelves of cozy mysteries and I had a couple up there, myself, from taking that Kitty Lit. 101 course with Niss.

Oh, by the way, I'm going to be attending summer school classes on the Kitty Lit. 101 front so I'm currently in search of some good summer reading material but I'll write more about that in another post.

Anyway, Nissy had a stash of books that I didn't even know about.  Not cozy mysteries but...

No, he did not have a stash of questionable reading material and calenders and stuff.  Nissy was a gentleman, for sure.

What Niss had was a stash of books that helped him write.  It's true.  For starters, he had multiple dictionaries.  One of them was three volumes big.  Can you believe it?  It took the dictionary peeps three whole volumes to write all the definitions of all the words out there and even with all that space, they still didn't manage to include the word MOUSES!  Some peeps and their dictionaries...  MOUSES!

But Nissy's stash contained more than just dictionaries.  He had several books on grammar, too. No wonder he always knew whether to use lay or lie or me or I although to be perfectly honest, he did sometimes mess up on the was and the were.  Not the simple cases but with those tricky ones. You know...  When you're talking about one thing that contains more than one item.  Always a trickster for sure.  Were?  Was?  MOUSES!

And by the way, I looked through his entire stash and every single book on grammar had all comments about run-on sentences inked out.  Not nicely inked out, either.  No ruler-straight line crossing out the paragraphs.  To be honest, I think someone just took a bottle of ink and tossed it all over the pages.  Someone was a little touchy on the run-on sentence subject, if you ask me.

I think it was the peep.  MOUSES!

And speaking of Old Peepers, I found a few notes of Nissy's, some of which pertained to her.  He had written down some laws. I'm not sure if they were his own personal laws or laws he was going to try to get passed once he was appointed to the Senate.  Or maybe both.  I'll blog more about these laws in the future but I think there's time to tell you about a couple right now.

Nissy's Law #2:  When in doubt, ask the peep.  It's an interesting law because, as you know, Nissy's Law #1 was, "when in doubt, BLAME the peep."  Seems to me that these two laws are slightly contradictory but I suspect that contradiction in law is nothing new.  But he had this specific law written down on a scrap of paper in one of his grammar books.  I think perhaps it applied only to grammar.  I think that maybe the peep was his back-up grammar book but - and I'm going out on a limb and just thinking aloud here - I'm not sure what good the peep would be with any of his questions. As Nissy always said, his grammar was far better than that of the peep's and it's no wonder.  Look at all the books he had on the subject!

Of course, I have no evidence that he ever read any of those books...  MOUSES!

Oh no, I do.  He blacked out all that stuff about run-on sentences but then, like I was thinking before, I'm not sure that Nissy was the one who did that as I find it far more likely to have been the peep who did it which means I have no evidence at all as Nissy had a true love of writing and books and I just can't see him making a mess of the books with ink like that. Gosh, he didn't even like my turning down the corners of the pages.  Always insisted that a bookmark be used.  Always said he didn't want any of his books to have dogs' ears.  Or maybe he said dog eared... Boy, this subjuect is making me dog tired, for sure. MOUSES!

But you know, asking the peep for help with tricky grammar is pretty smart.  If she gets it wrong, it's all her fault.  And that brings us right back to Nissy's Law #1:  When in doubt, BLAME the peep.  My brother was a GENIUS, for sure.

Yup, Genius should have been his middle name.  MOUSES!

nippy fresh breath

Hey everybody!  Sivvers here...

Gosh, this blogging stuff is really hard. Nissy made it look so easy but let me tell you, it's not.  It's darned tootin' difficult!  Firstly, you have to come up with a topic and then...  Then you have to write about it!  MOUSES!

So this morning I was pulling my whiskers this way and that and getting my tail all in a dither, wondering what on earth I would write about.  I was at a loss.  I was beginning to think I had writer's block and wondering if that was anything like the crystals block - which I have had, twice, although nothing in the last couple of years thank goodnees but both times I did have them, I had to be hospitalised so I was hoping against all hope that writer's block was nothing like the crystals block because I really didn't want to go into hospital again. Whatever was blocking me, I was going to have to unblock myself.

Then it came to me.  NIP!

What better thing to write about than nip?

An Ode to the Nip...

Nah, I'm not really a poet although I did write that one poem way back when.  Remember that? Nissy told you all about it, I believe.  I wrote it after my first bout with the crystals.

Easy Peasy

The more I drink,
the more I pee.
The more I pee,
the easier it be.
Easy peasy.
That's the key!

Yeah, I wrote that poem way back when for Peep #1.  I gave it to her for Valentine's Day, I do believe.  Right after I peed on her.  Yup, that was the peeing on the peep incident to which I alluded in my last blog post.  The peeing on the first peep incident, to be exact.

So anyway, I hemmed and I hawed and then I hawed and I hemmed and then finally, I decided exactly what to do.  I decided that I'd leave the sonnets to Shakespeare and instead, write in regular old prose.

So I struck a pose!

Then I remembered the difference between prose and pose and realised that that one little letter 'r' made a world of difference, for sure, and got down to business.

NIP.

As many of you know, my late brother Nissy was a true connoisseur of the nip.  He was a bit of a nip expert, you see.  Actually, he was a bit of a niphead, too.

Knowing Nissy's political aspirations, I often wondered why Nissy didn't consider starting up his own political party.  The Nip Party...   Has a nice ring to it, don't you agree?  Of course, peeps might think it's the wrong kind of party or something, I suppose.  Guess that's why Nissy didn't want to do that.  He was one very wise kitty, for sure.

But just as my family and I will always love my brother Nissy, we will also always love the nip. Rest assured, nip will always be an important topic of conversation at my house and here on this blog, too.

And I actually have some important nip-related news.  At Christmas, Peep #1 finally broke down and admitted her lack of nip-growing skills.  Total disaster on the nip-growing front.  For years she has tried and for years she has failed.  Got to give her top grades for consistency even though it's a kind of consistency we can all certainly do without.

So anyway, the peep promised that she would give us a belated Christmas gift of nip plants as soon as the nurseries were open and sure enough, she kept her promise.  Last week, she arrived home one day with three lovely catnip plants.

Of course, I immediately checked out their providence as I remembered way back when, when Nissy had been fooled by a big old plant of lemon balm. It did look like nip, I'll grant you that. Looked a lot like nip, for sure.  But the smell...  The smell!  It was so gross.  It smelled of lemons!  MOUSES!

And then there was the Valerian.  You send a peep out for nip and what does she bring home?  VALERIAN!

Actually, I have to admit that I quite enjoyed the Valerian root.  Nissy wasn't into it.  Said it smelled like stinky feet. Guess it all depends upon whose feet you're used to sniffing.  MOUSES!

Well like I said, I checked out the plants the peep brought home and found them to indeed be nip. Three beautiful catnip plants.

The peep set them aside on the driveway, waiting to be planted over the weekend.  Silly peep.

So the very next morning, I went outside to check on the nip plants for Peep #1 and what did I find? Nothing but stubble!  Someone had found those three nip plants and mowed them down to the ground.  MOUSES!

No, it wasn't mice.  Wasn't slugs or other thugs, either.  It was a fur-sib, I think.  Of course, my brothers and sisters all denied any knowledge of the incident but I'm pretty sure I could detect a certain nippy freshness to Mason's breath.  Mason claimed she had used nip-flavoured toothpaste that morning but I don't think anyone has invented that yet.  The Peep should have installed surveillance cameras by those nip plants, for sure.

Well the remnants of the nip plants were indeed planted over the weekend and are now safe and sound in a cage.  That's right, they're caged.  Big old dog crate with the bottom sawed off is protecting them from becoming snacking material by any marauding cats.

And marauding fur-sibs, too.

You know, Nissy had been saving up his pennies...

Scratch that.  Nissy had been saving up his nickels and dimes - on account of the Canadian government getting rid of all the pennies - to invest in nip futures.  He said that nip futures were going to be THE NEXT BIG THING.  But like I told my sister Mason...  There can be no future in nip that has been nipped in the bud and that's a fact, for sure.

So anyway, that's all for today about the nip.  I'll be back again on Sunday.  Paws crossed there will be no nipping of the nip between now and then.  Got to give those plants a chance to grow. MOUSES!

the break-in

Seville pawed at the door. Grabbing the doorknob between both front paws, he tried to twist it open but to no avail.  "Awww... MOUSES!  Peep has gone and locked my office door."  He sat back on his haunches, debating what to do next.

"Peep #1 is out in the garden," Seville's brother, Rushton, informed him. "Why don't you just go ask her to open up the door?"

"Nah, that won't work," muttered Seville.  "I'm thinking there's some reason I'm not supposed to be in the office by myself."

"Probably has something to do with your occasional spraying issues," suggested Rushy.

Seville glared at Rushton.  "You pee on a peep ONE time and ya never hear the end of it."

"Only the once?" questioned Rushton.  "I'm pretty sure it was at least twice."

"Nope, just the once.  Well just the once for Peep #1.  I might have peed on Peep #2 too but I'm pretty sure I only peed once per peep.  These things happen.  They can't be helped.  But my point is, peeps never let these things go.  If Nissy were here, he would say MOUSES!"

"Yup," Rushton nodded in agreement, "Nissy would say MOUSES! to that, for sure."

The two cats sat in silence, staring at the locked office door.

Several minutes passed before Rushton finally spoke up.  "Well what are you going to do?  Today's Sunday and you have a blog post to write."

"I know...  I know..." muttered Seville.  "Wait, I do know!  I'll pick the lock.  Should be easy enough. Peeps do it on television all the time.  I need a hairpin or something, I think.  Would you happen to have a hairpin on paw, Rushy?"

Rushton rolled his eyes.  "I may be a long-haired kitty but I most definitely do not use hairpins."

"No matter.  I see something else I can use."  Reaching over to his brother, Seville plucked a long, white whisker. "This will work nicely," he smiled.

"Ouch!" Rushton cried.  "For mousin' out loud...  That hurt!  I'm getting out of here before you pull out any more of my whiskers.  You had better watch out or I'll go tell the peep what you're doing."

"Tell if you like, Rushy, but having given me that whisker makes you an accomplice.  You had better keep that in mind."

"I didn't give you anything.  You STOLE that...  Awww...  MOUSES!" and with that, Rushton headed into the kitchen to look for a snack.

Seville beamed when he heard the locking mechanism on the office door make a welcoming click. The doorknob turned easily now and he pushed open the door.  "Now to get to work," and he trotted over to the desk.  Once turned on, the computer hummed to life.

"Whatcha doing?" Mason asked after running into the office and plunking her tail down next to Seville.  "Rushy said you were starting work on your blog post."

Seville glanced over at his sister, Mason.  Noticing that she appeared to be out of breath he asked, "Better question is, what were you doing?  You're panting."

"I was outside in the garden, supervising Peep #1.  She's digging up primroses for the animal shelter plant sale," answered Mason.

"The peep is selling off the primroses?  Nissy's primroses?  MOUSES!"

"Just the extras.  I was very careful to allow her to dig up only the extras.  The ones we don't need."  Mason began to wash a paw but between licks, added, "Besides, the sale is still two weeks away.  If she digs up any of the wrong ones, we can just plant them back in the garden when she's not looking."

Seville nodded in agreement.  "Yeah, we've done that before.  Drives the peep crazy."

"I think you mean crazier," giggled Mason, emphasising the 'er' at the end of the word.  She began to work on washing her other front paw before asking, "What are you going to blog about?"

"Not sure yet.  Hmmm....  Password!  Blogger wants a password?  MOUSES!"

"Nissy was very pro passwords," Mason informed Seville.  "Surely you knew that."

"Someone looking for a password?" Anderson asked, strutting into the office, flipping his floofy tail this way and that.  "Nissy lock you out of the blog?"

"Looking that way."  Seville typed in MOUSES! only to find that it wasn't correct.  "MOUSES!"

"Try nip," suggested Anderson.

"Or niphead," offered Mason.

"How about cheesynippizza?" offered Andy.

Seville typed in FursibsDriveYouCrazy but alas, that didn't work either.

"Why not just go and ask Peep #1?" suggested Mason.  "I'm pretty sure she knows all the passwords Nissy used."

"No....  She doesn't know I'm here in the office," explained Seville, rubbing his temple with a paw.

"Oh yeah," nodded Mason.  "It's because of your spraying issues, isn't it?"

Seville rolled his eyes to the sky.  "I've said it before and I'll say it again.  You pee on a peep once...."

"Two peeps, once each," Mason quickly added.

"...and you never hear the end of it.  Peeps just never let these things go."

"Unlike Seville," Anderson whispered in Mason's ear, "who thinks nothing of letting go when peeing on peeps."

"MOUSES!" cried Seville.

Feeling a presence standing behind them, all three cats turned slowly to find Peep #1 standing there, hands on hips and looking rather displeased.  They all spun their heads back to face the computer screen in unison, donning the most innocent-looking expressions possible.


"My little blogmeister," said the peep.  "Nissy's Blogger password was my little blogmeister, no spaces."

Seville typed in the suggested password and the blog opened at last.  "I'm in!  Thanks Peepers.  You're a peep.  And I mean that only in the most nicest of ways."

"I know you do," said Peep #1, giving Seville a kiss on the back of his head.  "Just don't spray anything in here, okay?  No spraying allowed."

"I only..." began Seville before stopping himself short.

Sometimes it was better to just let things go, he thought to himself.  Arguing with the peep about the difference between peeing once on each of two peeps and peeing on one peep, twice, could wait for another day.  Maybe he could blog about it sometime. Yup, definitely a good blog post idea but not for today.  Today he would blog about....

MOUSES!

Nerissa's Life lives on

Er-hmm...  Hi there everybody.  Seville here.  Nissy's brother, Seville.

Sorry I couldn't get here sooner.  I really didn't mean to ignore everyone.  It's just that writing this post is really hard. Probably the hardest thing I've ever had to do.  The hardest post I've ever written.

Of course, this is the first blog post I've ever written.  That didn't help.  The fact that Peep #1 locked me out of Nissy's office didn't help, either, but those aren't the reasons why writing this is so difficult. What makes it difficult is what I need to to tell you all.

In the wee hours of Thursday morning, my brother Nerissa succumbed to his medical condition.  His little body just couldn't take it any more.

If you're a regular reader of Nissy's blog, and I'm sure that most of you are, you already know that Nissy had been feeling poorly for quite some time.  He had lost a lot of weight and underwent a battery of tests for all the usual causes.  At first the doctors thought he might have had Hyperthyroidism as certain numbers from the tests were a tad high but when the meds for Hyperthyroidism didn't help, the doctor delved deeper.

Eventually, Nissy was diagnosed with Exocrine Pancreatic Insufficiency.  Basically, his body could no longer produce the enzymes necessary to digest his food.  Without proper digestion, he couldn't take in the nutrients needed for good health.  That's why he was losing weight.

Exocrine Pancreatic Insufficiency is pretty rare in cats, I've heard, but the peep did some reading and learned that it's maybe not so rare as some believe.  She read somewhere that it often goes undiagnosed.  That would affect the stats, I think.

After diagnosis, Nissy was put on meds right away but the thing is, the meds were gross.  Peep #1 had to put this powder in Nissy's food about twenty minutes before he ate it.  The powder started to digest his food for him but partially digested food is...  well...  well it's gross.  No other way to describe it.  No wonder Niss flatly refused to eat the stuff.

Here in Canada, the meds Nissy needed aren't available in tablet form.  At least, they're not available for cats.  There are similar pills for peeps so that's what Nissy ended up taking.  I guess the pharmaceutical companies realise that people with this medical condition won't eat that partially digested slop they think is acceptable for cats.  Guess a certain pharmaceutical company doesn't realise that we cats can recognise slop when we see it.  And recognise that it's gross, too. MOUSES!

If Nissy were writing this blog post, he would have said MOUSES! right there so I'm going to say MOUSES! too.  In fact, I'm going to make MOUSES! a regular part of my vocabulary. MOUSES!

But between my peeps and my doctor and some really, really good friends, the plan was to get Nissy the proper meds he needed in tablet form.  They make them in the United States of America, you see.  Perhaps American kitties have more highly refined palettes or perhaps the companies there making the meds that Nissy needed are smarter and have a better understanding of cats.  Either theory is possible.

If I sound a little bitter, I guess it's because I am.  The meds Nissy needed SHOULD have been easily accessible here in Canada, in tablet form.  Someone really dropped the ball on that one. MOUSES!

But we had all hoped that Niss would be able to pull through.  Between getting the proper meds and putting him on a homemade chicken broth diet, the peeps were hoping to nurse him through his medical crisis and back to health.  He was really enjoying the broth and had even started to eat a little of the chicken, too.  Of course, the rest of us helped him out with the eating of that chicken whenever possible.  We're all a very helpful bunch, you see.

I miss Nissy.  He was my brother and I loved him a lot.  He was only twelve-years-old.  He should still be here with us.  MOUSES!

Peep #1 says that Nissy is up in Heaven now with his mama, Madison, and his dad, Jacob.  Also his brothers Calista, Desdemona and Alexander, his sisters Beatrice and Josephine and his nephews Aristotle and Baby.  And his aunties Primrose, Snowdrop and Blossom, too.  She says that he'll be happily romping through vast nip fields, chasing butterflies.  And she says that one day, we'll all see him again and be able to romp through those same nip fields, too.

But Spring has finally arrived here in Nova Scotia and soon the primroses will be in full bloom. Nissy loved posing amongst the primroses.  He would have liked to have posed with those primroses one more time.  I hope they have primroses in Heaven.  If so, he'll be able to enjoy them up there.

Nerissa was a really special cat and simply must be remembered.  Remembered forever.  I'm going to do my part by continuing his blog.  Nerissa's Life will live on.  Peep #1 says that, as the oldest remaining brother, the blog is my inheritance.  It's my duty to carry on.

Peep #1 is going to make a little garden in memory of Nissy.  She's going to plant some primroses in there, I think. It's going to be in the part of the garden where Nissy used to like to spend time with her, supervising.

I'm hoping the peep will plant some nip, too.  Nissy loved his nip.  Some even called him a nip head and truth be told, he was.  Nothing wrong with stating the obvious, I think.  MOUSES!

The lovely and very talented Ann Adamus of the Zoolatry blog has created the beautiful Nerissa Forever badge in honour of Nissy.  Nissy with his primroses...  he'll love that.

And if anyone else would like to do a little something in honour of Nissy's memory, I have three suggestions.

Firstly, please use the word MOUSES! as often as possible.  Nissy really wanted to get his most popular invented word into all the major dictionaries but that never happened.  Perhaps we can get it added posthumously.

Secondly, please let the Prime Minister of Canada know that although Nerissa will no longer be able to accept a Senate appointment, I am able and willing to accept it for him.  And please feel free to mention to the Prime Minister that if he doesn't appoint me to the Senate, I just may run against him for Prime Minister in the fall elections.  I may not be quite as cute as Nissy but I'm still a heck of a lot cuter than he!  MOUSES!

Should that be he?  Or him?  No, he.  *sighs*  Nissy would know that.  Nissy was the best with stuff like that.

But thirdly and perhaps most importantly, I want to tell you about an organization called TeamTNR.  I've taken the following directly from their website...

"TeamTNR is an all volunteer, non-profit, charitable society formed in 2005 to minimize animal suffering in Annapolis County, Nova Scotia by controlling cat overpopulation through the spaying/neutering of as many cats as possible.  So far, we have had nearly 1800 cats spayed/neutered through our program.  With nearly two thirds being female, this likely has prevented an astounding amount of unwanted kittens being born as an unspayed female, her mate and their offspring can produce as many as 2000 cats in four years.  Also, we have a managed feral cat colony and a low cost, spay/neuter program."

TeamTNR is an extremely worthwhile cause and very dear and near to Nissy's heart.  Nissy was, as you know, a feral kitty himself.  Had he not found our peeps when he did, he might very well have found himself in need of TeamTNR and all the wonderful work that they do.

So if you're considering making a donation to a worthy cause in Nissy's memory, please consider making that donation to TeamTNR.  They, in turn, will then help Nova Scotian kitties in need.  I know that Nissy would appreciate that, for sure.  I know it from the bottom of my heart.

I don't think I can write much more than this for my first blog post.  Not sure it's long enough for Nissy's standards but, I think, given that this is my first post and I'm still learning the ropes so to speak, Nissy would forgive me if it's not quite up to snuff.

Also, I'm not exactly sure what snuff is or how you get up to it.  MOUSES!

I will be back on Sunday.  Going to do my best to keep up with Nissy's posting schedule.

Dear Brother Nissy...  I miss you.  I love you.  I always will.  Until we meet again.