right in the keister

So there I was sittin' in the kitchen, waitin' for some treats, when...

When I happened to see my brother, Rushton, walkin' past my other brother, Andy.

MOUSES!

I know, I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin', what's the big deal about that?

Well...

Well for starters, when Rushton walked past Andy, Andy gave him a smacky paw, right in the keister.

MOUSES!

Now seriously folks, I wouldn't be puttin' my paws anywhere near that long-haired marmie freak of a brother of mine's keister, for one never really knows where his keister may have recently been.

MOUSES!

But Andy, bein' Andy, can't resist smacky-pawin' anyone as they walk past.  Sometimes he gets you in the leg.  Sometimes the side.  And SOMETIMES, the keister.

MOUSES!

Well the next thing was, Rushy was rushin' over to me, complainin' about Andy.  "Did you see that?  Did you see what he did?  Did you see..."

I held up a paw in protest.  In protest of my havin' to listen to his complaints, that is.  "I, Seville the Cat, saw exactly what Anderson did," I told him.  "But to tell you the truth, Rushy, what one long-haired marmie freak of a brother does to another long-haired marmie freak of a brother, is of no interest to me.  MOUSES!"

"But, but, but..." Rushy began.

"But he got you in the BUTT, for sure," and I rolled on the floor, laughin'.

Seein' a pout beginnin' to form on my brother Rushton's face, I added, "But seriously, Rushy, it's not like you don't have protective paddin'.  Andy couldn't have hurt you.  I'm surprised you felt it at all.  MOUSES!"

'Is that some kind of fat joke?" Rushton asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Not at all, mon frere.  I am simply statin' the truth.  You have...  Well...  Well you have ample paddin', to be sure.  MOUSES!"

"Peep #1 says I'm just big boned," said Rushy, stampin' a paw.  "Plus, I do have a whole lot of floof."

I shook my head in dismay.  "Rushy, Rushy, Rushy...  You weigh in at twenty pounds.  There's no way that can all be accounted for by floof.  MOUSES!"

Rushton sat on his butt - or should I say, keister - and gave me the look a two-year-old child gives his mother immediately prior to startin' a tantrum.  "Don't complain to me," I told my long-haired marmie freak of a brother.  "Not my fault Andy can't keep his paws to himself.  Had I walked past him, he woulda smacky-pawed me in the keister, too.  MOUSES!"





Rushton looked slightly cheered up by my little pep talk, so I continued.

"Of course, I woulda felt it more, for my keister isn't as well padded as yours.  MOUSES!"

Well that did it.  No sooner had I uttered that last statement, Rushy was up and about, threatenin' to smacky-paw ME!"

"Don't you get any ideas, you long-haired marmie freak of a brother of mine.  I'm not the one who smacked you in the butt.  You wanna get back at someone for that, you need to get back at the smacky-pawer himself, and that, mon bizarre confiture frere, would be Andy.   MOUSES!"

Rushton sat back down for a moment, and mulled over what I had said.

Twenty. Minutes. Later...

Twenty minutes later, he had figured it out.  "You're absolutely right, Seville.  If I wanna get back at Andy for smackin' me, I need to deal with Andy himself."

"You got that right."

"I most certainly do!  And do you know what I'm gonna do about it?" my brother asked.

Takin' a wild guess, I said, "Uh...  Go talk to Andy, perhaps?"

"That's an even BETTER idea than what I was thinkin'," and Rushton squealed with delight.

Goodness knows what Rushy's original idea had been.  MOUSES!

I looked at my brother, just sittin' there, not makin' a move.  "Well uh...  If you're gonna go talk to Andy, you're gonna have to get up off that butt of yours, and approach him."


"Good plan there, Sivvers," and Rushy was up and crossin' the room.

Now what happened next was not unexpected.  Certainly not surprisin', in the least.

Rushton decided it would be best for him to talk to Andy, face to face, I suppose.  And as Andy had his back to Rushy, Rushy walked past him, plannin' to spin 'round in order to talk, but...

But just as Rushy walked past...

Andy smacky-pawed him right in the keister.

MOUSES!

silly peeps

Bwahahahahahahahaha-
hahahaha!

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA-
HAHAHAHAHAHA!

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA-
HAHAHAHAHAHA!

Silly peeps.

MOUSES!

Hello there...

Oh hello there, Peepers...

PEEPERS!

HELLO!

Hey Peep, I'm up here.  Up here, lookin' out this window.  Lookin' out this window, watchin' you aimlessly wanderin' around, outside.

MOUSES!

Earlier that evenin'...

Peep #2:  Seville's out.

Peep #1:  What?  WHY?

Peep #2:  He ran outside when I was letting Andy in.

Peep #1:  MOUSES!

Peep #2:  There was nothing I could do.

Peep #1:  That's just great.  You know he's reluctant to come in when I call him at night.  Now, I'll be outside, roaming around with the flashlight, in my nightdress no less, looking for Seville at midnight.  And it's cold out there.

Peep #2:  I'll go out to look for him.

Peep #1:  Yeah.  Right.  MOUSES!

A little later that evenin'...

Peep #1:  Seville...  Seville...  SEVILLE!  Where are you?  Seville, come on...  It's cold out here.  Seville...

And this continued for a good half hour.

MEANWHILE...

Hey Peepers, I'm up here.

Hey Peepers!

PEEPERS!

Look up, Peepers.  No, not there.  Look up.  UP.  Don't you know what the word up means?

MOUSES!

Oh Peepers...

Oh Peepers...

PEEPERS!

Silly peep.

MOUSES!

Why the mouses is she outside with the flashlight in the first place?  And WHY the mouses is she out there in her nightie?  DOES SHE NOT REALIZE IT'S COLD OUTSIDE?

MOUSES!

And why the mouses is she callin' out MY name for all and sundry to hear, makin' the neighbours think I'm bein' naughty by not comin' in when I'm called, when I'm already inside?

Need I say it again?

Of course I do.

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, it turns out, I never did run outside.  What the second peep was thinkin', I will never know.  Maybe a mysterious pumpkin', or somethin', rolled past.

And what the FIRST peep was thinkin', by believin' the second peep without actually checkin' to see if the second peep was tellin' the truth or not...  Well I'll never know that, either.

Just goes to show you, I've got a couple of really silly peeps.

Silly.

Gullible.

Stupid.

WHATEVER.

MOUSES!

the sweet spot

"Whatcha doin' there, Toby?  Waitin' for Christmas?"

My sister, Tobias, turned toward me.   She stared at me for a moment before rollin' her eyes.  "Don't be ridiculous," she said.  "Christmas is a whole month away."

"Then you've got a long wait ahead of you.  Ba-dum-bump.  MOUSES!"

Toby let out a loud sigh.  "You're such a marmie," she said.

"Hey!  Don't diss the marmies."  I thought for a moment.  "Hmmm...  Don't diss the short-haired marmalade cats like me, that is.  You wanna diss those long-haired marmie freak brothers of mine, you go right on ahead.  MOUSES!"

Toby and I sat there for a moment, not knowin' what to say.  I looked up at the ceilin'.  I saw her lookin' down at the floor.  Finally, I asked, "So anyway, what are you doin'?  You never did say."

"I'm waiting," she answered.  She sounded bored.

"I knew it.  You ARE waitin' for Christmas, just like I said."

"No Seville.  I'm waiting for treats."

"Treats?  Why didn't you say so?  In that case, I'll wait right here with you," and I settled down beside my little sister.  "So uh...  Where are the treats?"

"They haven't appeared yet," was her reply.

"Appeared?  As in uh...  Well uh..."  I hesitated.  "Like magic?"

Toby thought for a moment.  "I wouldn't call it magic, exactly.  Peep #1 isn't a magician, is she?" she asked.

"Well I've never seen her pull a rabbit out of a hat.  But then, she wears the wrong kinda hats.  Ba-dum-bump.  MOUSES!"

Toby and I both got a chuckle out of that.

"So uh...  Might I assume," I began again, "that you're waitin' for treats from the peep?"

Toby nodded affirmatively.

"I never just sit around, waiting for the peep," I explained.  "I go get her when I need treats.  And meow.  Loudly.  The louder, the better, for sure.  And if that doesn't work, I jump up on the counter and help myself."

"I know," said Toby, through pursed lips.

"Then why don't you do the same?" I asked.

"The kitchen counter is too high for me to jump onto," she answered.  "I'm just a little cat, unlike you."

"Hmmm...  That's true.  You want me to jump up onto the counter for you?" I offered.

"No, I'll wait."

So we sat there, my sister and I, for a good long time - at least five minutes or so - before I got to my paws.  "Toby," I said, "this waitin' is for the birds.  I'm gonna jump up onto the counter and get us some treats."

"Honestly Seville, there really is no need.  Peep #1 will appear shortly, and when she d..."

"Appear as in magic?" I interrupted.

"No," Toby shook her head.  "As I previously stated, there's no magic involved.  Peep #1 will come into the kitchen before we know it, and when she does, she will give me some treats."

"Are you sure?" I asked.  "Are you really, really sure?  'Cause first of all, we've already been sittin' here for at least seven minutes now, and there's still no sign of the peep.  And even if she does appear soon, there's no guarantee that when she does, she'll give us treats.  Especially if you're just sittin' there like you are.  I mean, you're just sittin'!  Sittin' doin' nothin'.  Nothin' but sittin'," and for emphasis, I sat right back down on my butt.

"I'm not just sitting here, Seville.  Well yes, I suppose I am.  But," and she smiled somewhat knowingly, "do you realize where it is that I'm sitting?"

I looked first to my right, and then to my left, before answering.  "Uhhh...  the kitchen?"

Shaking her head, Toby asked, "How do you get yourself dressed in the morning?  Oh, that's right, you don't."

"Neither do you," I scowled.  "Fess up, little sister of mine.  How do you get treats to magically appear for you, just by sittin' here in the kitchen?  MOUSES!"

"I'm not sitting just anywhere in the kitchen," she answered.  "This," and she pawed at the floor, "is the sweet spot."

I narrowed my eyes.  "Sweet spot?  What the mouses is a sweet spot?  A spot where there's candy and stuff?  You're a cat, Toby.  Cats don't eat candy.  We eat treats."

Tobias let out another loud sigh.  "The sweet spot, Seville, is the best place for..."

And at that very moment, Peep #1 walked into the room.  "Oh hello there, Toby," she said.  "Hi sweetie," she added, looking at me.  "Are you two wanting some treats?" and she reached over to the counter, and opened up a bag of our favourite tempting morsels, before placing a few on the floor before each of us.

"Well I'll be...  It IS like magic," I said.

"Not magic," Toby replied, swallowing her first treat.  "As I told you before, this is the sweet spot.  Whenever Peep #1 sees me sitting here, right in this very spot, she gives me treats.  It works every time."

"I. Never. Knew.  MOUSES!"

I was about to stomp my paws and loudly complain - complain about having wasted so much time and energy findin' the peep on so very many occasions - when I thought better of doin' so, and instead, quietly munched on a treat.  After all, if the sweet spot worked as well as Toby was claiming it did, it was far better to ixnay on the complaints, and simply rest in the knowledge that now I, Seville the Cat, also knew of its existence.  I know knew where to sit and wait for the magical appearance of treats.  Clearly,Toby had trained the peep well, and there was no need for the peep to know that she had been trained.

MOUSES!

can you hear me now?

For mousin' out loud.

I know she can hear me.  I KNOW it.

CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW?

Who would ever have thought that I, Seville the Cat, would end up with a peep who is hard of hearin'.

Although in all honesty, she's more likely to have selective hearin', for sure.  MOUSES!

CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW?

Hey Peepers, thought you'd like to know, I pooped on the wrong side of the litter box.

Oh sure, now THAT she can hear.

MOUSES!

It's annoyin' as all get out when Peep #1 pretends to not hear me.  And I KNOW she can, really.  Hear me, I mean.  I know she can hear me 'cause when I'm tryin' to be extra quiet on account of my gettin' into mischief and stuff, she ALWAYS hears me doin' that, for sure.

Like I said earlier, MOUSES!

And peeps claim we cats have selective hearin'.

Okay, so maybe now and then we do.

But two wrongs do not a right, make.

MOUSES!

And so what if I've already had three helpings of treats today.  So what if she heard me the first three times I asked.  Right now, at this very moment, I'm lookin' for helpin' number four.

Plus, they were very small treats.  I barely even tasted 'em goin' down.

But the peep, apparently, is no longer hearing my pleas.  No longer hearin' my cries.  No longer hearin' my polite requests for treats.

CLEARLY, my requests have been too polite for her to hear.

HEY PEEPERS!  GET ME A TREAT AND GET IT RIGHT NOW.  MOUSES!

Oh sure, now THAT she hears.

Peepsqueak, if you had answered me the first time I asked, I wouldn't have had to resort to makin' loud and rude demands.  You know Peepers, you pretty much brought this upon yourself.  Not MY fault you weren't hearin' me when I was askin' nicely.  Not MY fault you weren't respondin' to my cries.  Not MY fault you weren't...

Okay, okay...

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, WHERE ARE MY TREATS.

I want treats.  I want treats.  I WANT TREATS.  I WANT...

OKAY, OKAY...

MOUSES!

You know Peepers, you keep this up, and what you'll be hearin' will be my droppin' to the floor, rollin' around, dying of hunger, and...

What?  What?  What's that?  What's that you're babblin' on about now?

You say you already gave me treats?

I know that.  But that was at least ten minutes ago, and I already ate 'em right up.  Plus, there were only three.  I need a fourth treat, and I need it right now.

What?  What?  What's that?  What's that you're babblin' on about NOW?

What do you MEAN you already gave me a fourth treat?  Peepsqueak, had you given me a fourth treat, I wouldn't be needin' to resortin' to beggin' and pleadin' and prancin' around the kitchen floor.  Had you given me a fourth treat, I wouldn't be lookin' for treats right now.  Had you given me a fourth treat, I wouldn't be...

What?  WHAT?

Oh.

That.

Hmmm...

Well...

Well CLEARLY, that wasn't the kinda treat for which I was askin'.

Or somethin' like that.

I'll tell you what, Peepers.  I'll just scarf down this teeny, tiny, minuscule fourth treat, right now.  You know, just to keep YOU happy and stuff.

*GULP*

And now that that's gone, I'll start beggin' for more.  For a fifth treat, I mean.  And make it a good kind, this time.

Hey Peepers!  CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW?

chill man, chill

Ya gotta learn to chill, man.  Chill.

You know...

As in...

Chill.

I'm just sittin' here with my paws up, chillin'.

Got a nip mouse by my side, and I'm chillin'.

I'm sittin' here, lookin' out the window, watchin' squirrels race round and round and round, chillin'.

Chill man.  Chill.

You know...

As in...

Chill.

Let me tell you, there's really nothin' better than findin' an almost unslobbered upon nip mouse under a chesterfield.  Nothin' better at all.

Or sure; that's right; I know.  Findin' a completely unslobbered upon, as opposed to an almost unslobbered upon, nip mouse might be better.  Maybe a little.  Maybe a lot!  But let's face it, in a multi-cathold...  In a multi-cat household, completely unslobbered upon nip mice are pretty hard to find.  I haven't found one of those since uh..  Yesterday.

Or was it last week?

No matter. Thing is, frantically searchin' for the rare and elusive completely unslobbered upon nip mouse is unconducive to the art of chillin', anyway.

Besides, I did give this particular almost unslobbered upon nip mouse a good sniff, and I think...  I really do believe, the slobber that's there might very well be my own.  My own slobber, that is.

Let me ask all you...  All you out there.  Let me ask you a question.  And it's a very important question, indeed.  It might even be the most important question I will ever ask anyone, all day long.

Okay.  Here it is.  Snowmen.

Okay, so snowmen isn't a question.  It's more like a topic, I think.  So the topic at paw is snowmen.

You know, men made out of snow.

So anyway...  Snowmen.  Do you, or do you not, think snowmen know how to chill?

I think...  I think maybe they do.

I mean, when was the last time you saw a snowman all hot under the collar?  When was the last time you saw a snowman bothered by the minutiae of life?  When was the last time you saw a snowman wearin' a collar?  When?

Oh yeah, you might have seen one wearin' a tie.  Or a hat.  Maybe some buttons, too.  But a collar?  Ya can't get hot under the collar if you don't have a collar to wear, now can you.  Not a question.  Statement of fact.

Course, a snowman gets too hot, and a snowman might melt.  Seems to me it's very important for snowmen to know how to chill.

You know...

As in...

Chill.

Peeps could learn a lesson or two from snowmen.  They could learn how to ignore the little, unimportant stuff, and concentrate on the stuff that really matters.  Stuff like chillin'.

Oh yeah...

Oh yeah, peeps should learn how to grab a nip mouse by the tail - preferably one with no slobber but their own - sit back, relax, and just...

Chill.

PEEPERS!

Yeah, you.  Peepers, COME ON OVER HERE and sit down next to me.  Put your feet up, Peepers.  See if you can find another nip mouse under the chesterfield there, and come on over here, and...

And uh...  Chill.

'Cause let me tell you somethin', Peepers.  Let me tell you somethin' important.

Let me tell you that...

Are you listenin', Peepers?

Okay Peepers, here it is.  Peepers, you've gotta learn how to chill.

You know...

As in...

Chill.

And let me tell you somethin' else, Peepers.  Somethin' even more important than chillin'.

You know that last batch of nip you got from the nip lady from...  From...  From that-a-way?  The nip lady who lives over there?  There.  Watch the tip of my tail, Peepers.  It's pointin' over there.

Anyway, let me tell you somethin', Peepers.  That nip was PRIMO stuff.  It was primo stuff, for sure.  All buds and leaves.  Not a stem in sight.  That was the best nip...

The best nip...

I'M AWAKE!

That nip, Peepers.  That nip was the...

The...

The Best. Nip. EVER.

That's why I'm...

Why I'm...

Why I'm sittin' here, chillin'.

Oh Peepers, you have gotta grab a nip mouse, and learn how to CHILL.

not very nice

Oh Pee-pers...

OH PEE-PERS...

PEEPERS!

Peepers, that's really not very nice, you know.

What am I talkin' about?

WHAT AM I TALKIN' ABOUT?

I'm talkin' about what you did to Toby, of course.

What else would I be talkin' about?

MOUSES!

For mousin' out loud, Peepers.  Are you in SUCH a habit of doin' not-very-nice things, that you can't even keep track of what you're doin' that's not very nice?  You know, most people would know exactly about what I was talkin', when I said what you did wasn't very nice, 'CAUSE FOR MOST PEOPLE, they'd only have done one not-very-nice thing, so they'd automatically know that THAT was the thing about which I was talkin'.

MOUSES!

Hey, if you think it's confusing listening to me say that, you should see how confusin' it is for me to say it in the first place.

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, Toby told me ALL about how you wouldn't share your breakkies with her this mornin' and THAT, my dear peep, is what you did that was not-very-nice.

Yeah, yeah, yeah...

Excuses, excuses...

MOUSES!

Lookie here, Peepers, Toby told me how she offered up some of her breakkies to you.  SHE was bein' generous.  SHE was bein' nice.

As opposed to you.

MOUSES!

Oh PUH-lease.  Toby didn't want your plate after you were all done.  What good was that to her?  After you were finished, your plate was EMPTY.

Oh my mousie mousin' mouses.  Why do I even try reasoning with the likes of a peep?  WHY???

Peepers, Toby wanted you to let her eat off your plate WHILE YOU were eatin' off your plate, too, and by that I mean, at the very same time.

As opposed to after you were all done, and the plate was all empty, AND THERE WAS NOTHIN' LEFT FOR HER TO EAT.

MOUSES!

Yeah, I know.  I KNOW!  I know she had her very own breakkies on her very own plate.  How else could she have offered some of her breakkies to you?

And when I say she was offerin' you some of her breakkies, I mean, she was offerin' to allow you eat some of her breakkies off the very same plate from which she was eatin', at the very same time.

Now THAT, my peep, is what one calls bein' generous.

Unlike you.

MOUSES!

Oh don't give me that.  The fact that you're a vegetarian and therefore don't eat what we cats eat, does not negate the generosity of my sister when she offered up some of what was on her plate, to you.  Oh sure, one MIGHT say she knew full well that you'll never accept her offer.  But that doesn't make her offer any less generous, you know.

MOUSES!

Do you know what I think?  I think, you think you're above eatin' off the same plate as a cat.  Yeah, that's what I think, for sure.  I think, you think you're too good to eat off the same plate, at the same time, as a cat.  I think, you think, sharin' a plate of breakkies with a kitty is beneath you, and somehow DIRTY, and...

Okay, so you might have a point there.  A point about the dirt factor, I mean.

I mean...

Well what I mean is, goodness knows what germs a kitty could catch by eatin' off the same plate as a peep.  A kitty could catch peep germs, for sure.  A kitty could get sick by eatin' off a peep's plate, especially if said kitty were to eat off the same plate at the very same time, and...


Hmmm...

Do you know what I really think?  I think, you should allow Toby to eat off your plate first, BEFORE you have had a chance to contaminate said plate with your PEEP germs and stuff.  Yeah, that makes a lot of sense, for sure, 'cause that way, Toby can have some of your breakkies without riskin' gettin' sick.  And since she's just a little girl, with a very small appetite, when you think about it, they'll be plenty left on your plate AFTER she has finished, for you.

MOUSES!

got a minute?

Hey Peepers!  You got a second?

Scratch that.

Hey Peepers!  Gotta minute?

Hmmm...  Scratch that, too.

Hey Peepers!  You have an hour or so, or...

WHO AM I KIDDIN'?  This is gonna take all afternoon, for sure.  MOUSES!

So Peepers, the reason I was wonderin' if you had some time for me, was...

Well...

WELL...

Well Peepers, we need to talk.

SERIOUSLY.

MOUSES!

About what must we talk, you ask?

WHERE DO I BEGIN?

So like I was tellin' Mason the other day, we're gonna have to do something 'bout those two freakishly long-haired marmie brothers of mine.

You didn't hear what they did?

Really?

YOU DIDN'T HEAR THEM DOIN' WHAT THEY DID?

REALLY?

For mousin' out loud, a kitty accidentally knocks a couple pieces of cutlery off the kitchen counter, and you hear that.

It was TOO by accident.

Oh.  Well no.  No, my jumpin' up onto the kitchen counter in the first place WASN'T by accident, but you're splittin' hairs there, Peepers.  You're SPLITTIN' hairs!

And speakin' of split hairs, I happened to notice you have a few split ends there, Peepers.  You might wanna make an appointment with the groomer or somethin'.  MOUSES!

But like I was tellin' Mason, you and I need to have a little talk about those two freakishly long-haired marmie brothers of mine.

No.  No, I don't know.  I don't know whether or not they have split ends, but hey, if you wanna make appointments for them at the groomer too, you could all go in to have your hair done together.  MOUSES!

But the thing is, Peepers, those two freaky long-haired marmie brothers of mine are gettin' into mischief like no kitties have ever gotten into mischief before, and...

What?  Well no.  No, THEY were not the kitties who were jumpin' up onto the kitchen counter the other day, but...

BUT YOU'RE GETTIN' OFF TOPIC THERE, PEEPERS.  The topic at paw is how Andy and Rushy are causin' trouble.  How THEY'RE gettin' into mischief.  How they're bein' naughty.  The topic at paw has NOTHIN' to do with any trouble I've been causin'.

If I WERE causing trouble, that is.

Which I'm not.

At all. 

I don't think.

MOUSES!

'Cause you know, Peepers, Christmas is closer than you might be realizin'.  It's gettin' closer by the day!  And I've always found, it's best for a kitty to be on his best behaviour in the weeks immediately preceedin' Christmas, and...

AND YOU MIGHT WANNA MENTION THAT TO THOSE TWO FREAKY LONG-HAIRED BROTHERS OF MINE, 'CAUSE...

'CAUSE WE DON'T WANT SANTA TO BOYCOTT OUR HOUSE ON ACCOUNT OF THEIR NAUGHTY BEHAVIOUR.

If Santa is gonna boycott our house on account of anyone's naughty behaviour, it's gonna be mine.

If I WERE bein' naughty, that is.

Which I'm not.

At all.

I don't think.

MOUSES!

Basically, Peepers, that's all I needed to talk to you about.

So uh...

So what are you plannin' to do about it?  Huh?  HUH?  What are you...

NEVER YOU MIND WHAT I WAS DOIN' UP ON THE KITCHEN COUNTER THE OTHER DAY.  Rest assured, there must have been somethin' up there needin' to be done.

And when doin' stuff that NEEDS to be done, doin' it is never naughty.

I don't think.

MOUSES!

hold still!

Hold still, Peepers.  Hold still!

Uhhh...  Just checkin' somethin'.

I SAID, I'm just checkin' somethin'.  Now hold still.

Hold still, I told you.  Boy-oh-boy, a cat tells a peep to hold still, and what does a peep do?  Pretty much everythin' but.

PEEPERS!  If you're gonna insist on movin' about like that, don't complain to me when...

HOLD STILL!

Lookie here, Peepers, like I said, I'm just checkin' somethin'.

What am I checking, you ask?

Well...

Well I'm checkin' to see if you have whiskers.  So far I haven't found any, but I'm not yet done checkin'.  I still haven't looked at the other side of your face.

HOLD STILL!

Well if you weren't movin' your head about like a spinning top, my claws wouldn't be scratchin' you now, would they.  It's not a question, Peepers.  It's a statement of fact.

HOLD STILL!

I'm tellin' ya, it's like workin' with a bobble head doll or somethin'.

MOUSES!

Hmmm...  Okay, so it looks like you don't have any whiskers.  Actually, that's pretty much the result I was expectin'.  After all, you don't have fur on your arms and legs, either.

Well OF COURSE I've checked your arms and legs for fur.  I check stuff like that out daily.

No it's not.  It's not creepy at all.  If you wanna hear somethin' creepy, yesterday I...

Uhhh...  On second thought, never mind 'bout that.

MOUSES!

Anyway...

So anyway, you're probably wonderin' as to why I was checkin' to see if you have whiskers.  The thing is, Peepers, the other day, I was thinking 'bout how you're supposed to be like my mum, right?  I mean, I don't know my cat mum, so that kinda makes you my mum.  But the thing is...

Well...

WELL WE DON'T LOOK ANYTHIN' ALIKE!

No Peepers, we don't.  For starters, you're not nearly as cute as me.  You're not really cute at all, whereas I, Seville the Cat, am adorable.  But you?  Eh...  Not so much.

Also, there's the fur thing.  Peepers, you're pretty much bald, 'cept for that hair on the top of your head, whereas I, Seville the Cat, have fur all over.

And speakin' of fur, mine is a beautiful and stunning shade of marmalade orange, whereas yours is...

Well yours is whatever colour it says on the bottle of dye.

Which brings me to my next point.  My orange fur is one hundred percent natural, unlike yours.  You know, on account of yours comin' out of a bottle and all.

And now, it seems, you don't have any whiskers, either.  Unlike me.

Then there's the issue of your missing tail.

NO, I did not actually check for a tail.  Now THAT would have been creepy, for sure.

I'm assumin' you are tailless, Peepers, on account of all your complaints when I make comments on my blog 'bout your havin' one.

Plus, if you do have a tail, for all the nine lives of me, I can't figure out where you're puttin' it when you wear pants.

MOUSES!

So basically Peepers, what it comes down to is this:  How the mouses can you be my mum when you clearly belong to a different species?  HOW?

And not just a different species.  An inferior one, too.

A species that is WAY less cute.

And not nearly as smart.

Basically, if our house were a zoo, I, Seville the Cat, would be the zookeeper, whereas you would be the uh...

Well...

Well I'll let you try to figure that one out for yourself.

MOUSES!

too much to ask?

Let me tell you somethin', my friends.  Peeps can be such...

Such...

SUCH...

Well...

PEEPS.

MOUSES!

Why just the other day, there I was, sittin' on the bed, mindin' my own business, doin' a little washin', when out of nowhere came along one of those darned peeps.

FYI, it was Peep #1, but truth be told, both of my peeps have been guilty - NUMEROUS TIMES - of bein' peeps.  Not to mention bein' guilty of doin' peep-like things.

MOUSES!

And "MOUSES!" is exactly what I said.  And I said it with the loudest, most annoyed voice I could possibly muster.  'Cause like it or not, at that moment, my annoyance was most definitely what Peep #1 deserved to hear.

MOUSES!

Is it too much for a kitty to ask, to have a little privacy while said kitty is doin' his washin'?

Apparently, it is.

MOUSES!

You know, we cats start invadin' the privacy of peeps while they're doin' THEIR washin', and we never hear the end of it.

Okay, so truth be told, Peep #1 doesn't really mind my invadin' her privacy while she's doin' a little laundry down in the laundry room.  But laundry is a different kind of washin', for sure.  If we invade their privacy while they're in the shower...

MOUSES!

Yeah, that's just what peeps say when we cats invade their privacy while they're in the shower.

Believe, I know.

And don't even get me started 'bout what they say if they're usin' the litter box.

MOUSES!

But does that stop them from invadin' OUR privacy while WE'RE usin' the litter box?

The answer to that, my friends, would be a resounding no.  In fact, peeps are known to lurk around the litter boxes of cats, waitin', and watchin', like the snoopy peeps they are, until we finish doin' our litter box business.

Why peeps have this fascination with cats' litter boxes, I will never know, but like it or not, they do.

MOUSES!

Why, peeps have even been known to TAKE PICTURES of us cats while we're usin' the box.

Pictures!

CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?

MOUSES!

Do we cats take pictures of them, while they're doin' THEIR litter box business?

Not on your life.

Actually, postin' pictures of peeps usin' a litter box can get a kitty banned from a number of social media sites.

Not that I've ever done it myself.

It's just somethin' I've heard.

From the friend of a friend of a friend.

Or somethin' like that.

MOUSES!

You know, you'd think those social media sites would get on the ball, and start disciplining PEEPS, takin' pictures of cats doin' their litter box business, but OH NO...

Oh no, we couldn't have that.

And I suppose they do have their reasons.  Those social media site people probably know that if you take away all the pictures of cats on the Internet.

THERE'D BE ABSOLUTELY  NOTHIN' LEFT.

MOUSES!