"Good gosh Mason, what the mouses is that?"
"THAT," and I pointed to the collection of bits and pieces of fawn-coloured fur on the floor lyin' next to her. Reachin' out to touch one, Mason gave me a smack to the paw.
But you know what they say. They say, better a smack to the paw, than a smack to a jaw.
Least that's what I say.
"So what's with the collection of fur?" I asked, rubbin' my one smacked front paw with my other. "You plannin' on donatin' bits of your fur to cats who need wigs or somethin' like that? The peep did that with her hair a couple times. You know, when she went from a long pony tail to a shorter one. Why the mouses anyone would want used hair, I don't know, but apparently there's a need out there for it. You plannin' on doin' that, Mason? Huh? HUH?"
Mason scowled at me like only a Mason can do. "These furs are mine," she said, protectively. "They're all mine. Peep #1 wants to throw them out as she says I don't need them anymore, but I know differently. I need them because they're mine."
I gave Mason the best look of shock I could muster, although to be perfectly honest, in this particular matter, I was kinda in agreement with the peep. I mean, no cat needs fur that's no longer uh... Um... You know... Attached. MOUSES!
"I know!" Mason squealed, apparently misreading my shocked look as bein' one of agreement. "How can the peep not understand that these furs are mine, and therefore, I need to keep them?"
"Well..." and I pawed at the floor, bein' extra careful not to get too close to Mason's collection of fur for fear of another smack. "She might be thinkin' that..."
"She's not thinking, at all," Mason quipped. "If she were..."
"Uh yeah," I interrupted. "Mason, I'm not really too interested in this here convo. You have anythin' better to talk about?"
Now it was my sister's turn to look shocked.
"No offence or anythin'," I explained, "but this here conversation is not about me, and YOU DO KNOW how I prefer conversations that are. Right?"
Mason sat back on her haunches. "What if I were to tell you my prized collection of combed out fur was valuable? What if I were to to tell you it was worth a lot of money?"
I paused, quickly runnin' the numbers in my head. "You plannin' on givin' me those furs to sell 'em on E-Bay?"
"Of course not!" Mason snapped. "They're mine. ALL mine. I'm not giving them to anyone. I'm not selling them, either! I'm keeping them right here where they belong."
"Well the peep would say they belong in the garbage."
"Well then the peep would be wrong."
"You know the peep is gonna come gather 'em up to chuck 'em, the moment she sees you're not sittin' there on guard," I informed my sister
"Then I will never, ever, EVER stray from this spot. I will stay here on guard for eternity."
"You plannin' on never eatin' again?" I asked.
"I'll have Peep #1 serve me my meals right here in the family room. I see no reason why she can't provide room service."
I chuckled at the thought of Mason explainin' that one to the peep.
"What's so funny?" Mason scowled.
"Nothin'," and I struck the kitty loaf yoga pose, tuckin' both front paws under me and out of Mason's free-wheelin' smacky-paw reach. "And what happens when you need to use the litter box?" I asked. "The peep isn't gonna bring litter in here. So what happens when you have to pee? Huh? HUH?"
Mason thought for a moment. "I'll figure that out when the time comes," she growled. "I'm not letting the peep outsmart me, Seville. She is NOT getting my collection of fur. It's bad enough she stole my furs in the first place. All that combing was completely unnecessary. I know I was enjoying it at the time, but that was BEFORE I saw how much of my fur she had combed out. I'm at risk of going bald because of her actions. Bald! BALD!"
I screwed up my nose. "You do know that's why the peep combs us in the first place, right? Not to make us bald or anythin' like that, but to comb out our excess furs so we don't swallow 'em and cough up hairballs."
Hearin' the sound of a package of treats bein' opened in the kitchen, my ears perked right up. "You comin' for treats?" I asked, makin' my way out of the room.
"Are you kidding me?" Mason asked. "That's just a ploy of the peep's to get me to leave my precious collection of fur unattended. "I'm not stupid, Seville. I'm not falling for her tricks."
"Suit yourself," I told her, "but I, for one, am headin' in for some treats."
Chowin' down on a treat of temptation, I could hear Mason in the other room, muttering to herself. Or was that her tummy growlin', I wondered aloud. "MASON..." I called. "Are you SURE you don't want some of these treats? They're really good, you know. Very tasty, for sure."
As if knowin' what I was sayin' to Mason, the peep gave the treat package another really good shake.
Well that did it. At the sound of those treats, Mason came runnin' into the room and skidded to a halt by the peep's feet. She looked up with a look of utter starvation. Ol' Peepers obliged her by scatterin' a few treats on the kitchen floor.
Polishin' off the last of her treats, Mason wiped her mouth with a paw. "Those sure did hit the spot but now, I must go back and protect my precious collection of fur." She headed out of the room.
"NOOOOO!!!" Mason screamed.
"Yup, just as I predicted." I sauntered into the family room. "Did the peep come in here and steal your collection of furs while you were scoffin' down those treats?"
Mason sighed the loudest of sighs. "Oh, woe is me," my sister cried.
"Ah quit bein' a drama queen," I told her. "You knew darn well the peep wasn't gonna let you keep all those combed out furs. She lets one of us do that, and she'll have to let ALL of us do it, too. Next thing you know, we'll be wadin' through mountains and mountains of fur. To be perfectly honest, I don't know how you got her to let you keep your precious combed out furs for as long as she did. I mean, you must have had 'em for well over an hour."
Mason lifted a paw and extended her razor-sharp claws, one by one. They glistened as the light bounced off 'em.
"Oh. Yeah. Your tendency to have a wayward smacky-paw. Yup, that gets the peep every time. You know, if the peep were smart, she'd clip your claws before comin' for your furs. Maybe next time she'll figure that out, huh? Maybe next time. Or on the other paw, maybe not."
Mason, you need to file a report with the pawlice. We won't let the Peep get away with taking your furs.ReplyDelete
You know, she could give the fur to someone who weaves yarn from it! Then she could knit or crochet cat fur beds for you guys!ReplyDelete
Sometimes I are glad I has short hair!ReplyDelete
Yikes! We don't allow fur-balls in this palace as they tend to confuse the ol' mouse radar! MOLMaybe Mason should only allow so much grooming in one spell so she ultimately gets more treats when peep has to come and remove the said piles?ReplyDelete
Poor, poor Mason. She must be terribly distraught at this afront.ReplyDelete
May the furs be with you!ReplyDelete
That's like a chicken and egg question. Which to do first? Defur or defer the defur to trim de claw? Poor Mason. She could have made a lovely soft bed to lie in during the bitter cold winter.ReplyDelete
Have you thought about it, Mason, the peep might be stealing your fur to knit herself a nice warm sweater!ReplyDelete
I'm not particularly attached to my loose fur (hahaha - no pun intended) - but once it's OFF me, it's free to roam wherever it may choose. I think it would make a nice coat for a small creature (as long as said creature is not in MY house). Tell Mason she can begin a new pile of fur if she wants to...there's always THAT!ReplyDelete
OH NO! Really, did Brian say THAT is his comment...?!?ReplyDelete
Poor Mason, she looks very upset ! PurrsReplyDelete
I bet your furs are worth a lot of money. There is even a book about making stuff with cat fur. :)ReplyDelete