Oh hello there, my friends. What's wrong, you ask? Nothin'.
Okay, so maybe there is a little somethin' upsetting me today. It's so observant of you to notice, and very kind of you to ask.
So it's like this, my friends. It's like this: I have a Dilemma. A dilemma with a capital D. A Dilemma of potentially catastrophic proportions, you see.
But... But I don't wanna bother you with my problems. I'm sure you have your own troubles to worry about. I don't want to add my troubles to yours.
OH WOE IS ME!!!
Okay, if you insist. If you ABSOLUTELY INSIST I tell you, I will.
So I was lookin' for my favourite nip mouse this mornin'. You know, the nip mouse I keep hidden from Rushton in order to prevent freaky-long-hair-marmie-slobber contamination, when...
Oh my mouses, I don't know if I can continue. My paws are shaking even as I think about what happened.
BUT DON'T YOU BE GOIN' ANYWHERE!
Oh, you weren't about to get up and leave the room? Sorry 'bout that. This is the part of my story when the peep usually gets up and leaves the room, but then, she IS just a peep.
Okay, so like I was sayin', I was lookin' for my slobber-free favourite nip mouse this mornin'. Now when I say I was lookin', I was REALLY LOOKIN'. I looked practically everywhere! All my usual hiding spots and everythin'. I have quite a few, you know. It's wise to have at least two hiding spots in every room; one really good spot, and then a back-up, in case the good spot is discovered by other cats or peeps.
But I digress. The point is, I looked in every single one of my hiding spots in every single room for my favourite nip mouse, but do you know what? My favourite mousie was nowhere to be found!
Of course, I immediately jumped onto the kitchen counter to call 9-1-1, as any concerned kitty would do.
But the peep, bein' a peep, put paid to that. Apparently, missing nip mice aren't police emergencies, she says.
Well after the ensuing heated discussion between the peep and I about what does and what does not constitute a police emergency...
And after the peep calmed down...
Yeah, yeah, I probably shouldn't have told her, her mornin' hairdo would qualify as one. A police emergency, I mean. And maybe I shouldn't have brought up her recent attempt to LITERALLY STARVE ME TO DEATH by making the ridiculous claim that after breakky - before lunch, mid-morning snacks are not supposed to be three-course meals...
CAN YOU BELIEVE HER NERVE?
But again, I digress.
So anyway, after bein' prevented from callin' the police, I asked the peep if she had perhaps seen my favourite freaky-long-hair-marmie-slobber-FREE nip mouse, lying about.
Not that it would be lyin' about just anywhere. It would have been in one of my hidin' spots, of course, but the possibility did exist ol' Peepers might have stumbled upon one of those spots in her travels...
Travels... Attempts to tidy... WHATEVER.
Well just as the peep and I were gettin' into another heated discussion; this one 'bout her lack of tidying skills...
INTO THE ROOM WALKED RUSHY.
WITH MY FAVOURITE - previously slobber free, but now obviously contaminated - NIP MOUSE IN HIS MOUTH!
And in related news: I, Seville the Cat, am in desperate need of a new nip mouse.
And that is my Dilemma, you see.
A catastrophe, Seville, plain and simple! No one wants to share slobbered up toys...*gak!*ReplyDelete
Oh no!!! Guess Rushton must’ve been watching where you hid the nip mouse! Or purrhaps smelt it out!ReplyDelete
Woes you for sure, Seville. But what’s a little slobber?
Oh no, I so hope you get a new nip mouse. Maybe you can steal that one bac. Good luck.ReplyDelete
Horror indeed, you need a new one pronto!ReplyDelete
Ugh. Rushton slobbered on YOUR nip mouse, Sivvers??? MOUSES!ReplyDelete
That is a Dilemma Seville. I have a nip pillow that is Mine that Dad has tried to throw out several times and others have tried to slobber but I keep it... where is that pillow? Sorry buddy you are on your own while I do a searchReplyDelete
I definitely think that is a 911 emergency.ReplyDelete
We feel your pain, Seville. This same thing happened to Rabbit last week. He plans to blog about it this coming week. Be prepared to bring a tissue to mop your whiskers... or maybe earplugs to block out the whining. Anyway! Your precious mousie can probably be washed or...um...fumigated of Rushy spit. Just saying...ReplyDelete
Oh horrors! You poor fellow, Seville. Maybe your Peep would knit you a new mousie and fill it with your homegrown nip.ReplyDelete
Yikes. Well there is nothing else for it, Seville, but to get right onto the credit card folk and order at least a dozen more mice. Then stash them where Rushy cant find them – or maybe get him so long lasting bubble gum to play with ;)ReplyDelete
Oh Severs! I can understand your dilemma. Just take your mum's credit card and order yourself a new nip mousie online. It should arrive to you in no time. A similar thing happened to me - the doggy in my house found my Kickeroo and wounded it and slobbered on it too. Ever since then Kickeroo has been suffering from PTSD.ReplyDelete