fifteen weeks

BREAKING NEWS...  A search is currently underway in rural Nova Scotia for  a missing peep.  RCMP have been joined by local search and rescue groups in a frantic effort to locate Seville the Cat's missing Peep #1 - aka Peepers - after she wandered into a nearby forested area looking for Seville.  She was last seen wearing blue shorts and a t-shirt.  Her hair was most likely in a ponytail because she's boring and that's how she always wears it.  If you should happen to see Peepers, you're advised to notify the authorities immediately.  Do not approach on your own as she may be inclined to behave like a stupid peep.

MOUSES!

Okay, so nobody actually called in the police.

But Peepers did get lost in the woods.

Kinda.

Sorta.

MOUSES!

"ER-HMM..."

Shush up, Peepers.  I'm busy tellin' everybody 'bout how stupid you were on Thursday.

And as luck would have it, I've got a whole lot of tellin' to do.

MOUSES!

Okay everybody, here's the scoop:

So you all know how I've been cooped up here with the peeps for the past eighty-one million, six hundred and forty-eight thousand cat seconds due to this pandemic, right?

Well...

WELL I COULDN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE, my friends.

So...

So on Thursday, I decided to check out the wooded area back behind our house.  I was mainly lookin' for someplace cool to hang out, away from the peeps.  It's been super hot here lately and the heat was gettin' to me.  Havin' the peeps on my paws practically all day, every day, was drivin' me nuts and for the sake of my own sanity, I really needed a break from those peeps.

Well I must have been back here for like...  I don't know, maybe a couple hours.  Two?  Three?  Possibly four.  I'd lost track of the time, to tell you the truth, as I was enjoyin' the cooler air in the shade of the trees, not to mention the lack of those darned, omnipresent peeps.

It was mid to late afternoon when I heard ol' Peepers callin' for me...

Truth be told, I had heard her numerous times earlier in the day, but had chosen to ignore her screechy caterwaulin' voice.

So like I was sayin', it was mid to late afternoon when I heard ol' Peepers callin' me, and it sounded like her voice was  gettin' closer and closer.  Sadly shakin' my head, I realised my peep-free afternoon was comin' to an end, and I slowly got up on my paws.  There was nothin' for it than to go let her know where I was.

The screechin'...  I mean, caterwaulin'...  I MEAN, voice was almost upon me and I decided to meow in response.  "I'M OVER HERE, YOU STUPID PEEP!" I sweetly mewed back.

MOUSES!

Well Peepers must have heard my dulcet tones 'cause she immediately stepped off the narrow and lightly worn path made mainly by rocky raccoons and other local wildlife lookin' for a cheap meal in Peepers' veggie garden and stuff.  Apparently there are good bugs to be found in and and around Peepers' potted pepper plants, you see.

If you're a raccoon or a skunk, that is.

MOUSES!

The next thing I knew, the peep was scoopin' me up and smotherin' me in kisses.

Bleh.

"ENOUGH WITH THE KISSES ALREADY, PEEPERS!  KEEP YOUR SLOBBERY KISSES OFF MY BEAUTIFUL FURS.  WE'RE IN THE MIDST OF A PANDEMIC, YOU FOOL.  HAVE YOU NEVER HEARD OF SOCIAL DISTANCIN'?  MOUSES!"

And a little while later...

Hmmm...  You know what?  I'm gonna tell you what happened next, next week.

Well on Wednesday, actually.

So stay tuned.

MOUSES!

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

And remember:

IF IN DOUBT,

DON'T. GO. OUT.

Continue to practice SOCIAL DISTANCIN' measures

AND KEEP WASHIN' YOUR PAWS.

MOUSES!

rules?

Rules?  Rules, Peepers?  I don't have to pay attention to your stupid rules.

Rules are for commoners, Peepers, and that's not me.  I ain't no commoner, to be sure.  I'M SEVILLE.  I am SEVILLE THE CAT!

I AM KING.

MOUSES!

"So now you think you're a king?"

Don't be so silly, Peepers.  I don't think I'm a king.  I KNOW I'm a king, for sure.  KING SEVILLE THE CAT.

The first.

I think.

MOUSES!

Don't give me that look, there, Peepers.  You know the one.  That questionable look of yours like you're thinkin' I'm talkin' nonsense or somethin' like that.

I, Seville the Cat, AM A KING.

Ever heard the expression, King of the forest?

Well that would be me.

MOUSES!

"Seville, the lion is the king of the forest.  You're...  You're a cat."

And LIONS are cats!  Big cats.  Kings of the forest kinda cats.  Cats.

"But..."

But schmutt, Peepers.  You ever happen to notice the colour of my beautiful ginger furs?  That's lion colour, that is.

MOUSES!

"But.."

Stop interruptin'.

If a lion is a cat, a cat is a king.

Or somethin' like that.

Bottom line is, I, Seville the Cat, am in charge here.  I'm the one decidin' who does what, when, and where.  I'M the one makin' the rules.

And I ain't makin' no rules 'bout cats havin' to stay in after supper.

MOUSES!

"But..."

 I thought I told you to not interrupt.

But if you've got your heart set on rules, I'LL give you some rules.  As a matter of fact, we could do with some more rules 'round here.

Well better rules, actually.  Yeah, not necessarily more, but the ones we already have can certainly be improved.

You know the kinda things I mean, right Peepers?  Like rules 'bout not touchin' me when I don't wanna be touched, and feedin' me exactly what I want, when I want it, and...

Oh!  And how 'bout a rule 'bout my gettin' first dibs on the family room chesterfield?  And if there isn't enough space for your sorry a...   I mean, derrier, well...

Well you can sit on the floor, that's what.

MOUSES!

And I should be given my brekkies first, BEFORE you make tea.  And my supper should be served before you even start makin' yours.  And snacks...  Well snacks should be available on demand, and..

I KNOW!

I NEED A BELL.

Yes, rule number one should be that I, King Seville the Cat, must be provided with a bell.  One of those hotel lobby kinda bells so that I can ring for you when I'm feelin' peckish or need you to scratch an itch for me on the back of my neck where I can't reach, or...

WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING, PEEPERS?

What did I tell you 'bout givin' me that look?

MOUSES!

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

And remember:

IF IN DOUBT,

DON'T. GO. OUT.

Continue to practice SOCIAL DISTANCIN' measures

AND KEEP WASHIN' YOUR PAWS.

MOUSES!

fourteen weeks

I'm gettin' kinda tired of all this addin' and multiplyin' and complicated mathematics stuff, so let's just cut the chase, shall we?

SEVENTY-SIX MILLION, TWO HUNDRED AND FOUR THOUSAND, EIGHT HUNDRED SECONDS, IN CAT TIME.

That's how long I've been cooped up here in the house with the peeps stayin' the blazes home.

MOUSES!

*scratches behind one ear*

And let me tell you somethin', my friends, it has been UNBEARABLE for sure.

MOUSES!

And speakin' of bears...

That bear that came 'round here?  Apparently he came back.  Yup, the very next day he was around, gettin' into peeps' garbage and stuff.  Not ours, of course, on account of...

Well...

Well just 'cause he likes us, I guess.

MOUSES!

But I'll tell you who doesn't like us, my friends.  Yup, I'll tell you right now.

MOTHER NATURE, that's who.

MOUSES!

It has been unbearably...

UnBEARably...

HaHaHaaa..  Oh my mouses, sometimes I crack myself up.

It has been UNBEARABLY hot these last few days.  Heat warnings and everythin'.  Who the mouses ever heard of Nova Scotia bein' in the thirties in June?  Mid June, no less.  JUNE!  Goodness knows what it'll be like in July.

MOUSES!

And it's not like I can whip off my fur coat and don a light cotton tee.  I'm a cat, and my coat is permanent, you see.

Peeps don't know how lucky they are with their bare skin and stuff.

MOUSES!

Bare skin...  BARE skin.

My gosh, I've gone and done it again.

Cracked myself up, that is.

MOUSES!

But all puns aside, bottom line is, it's hot.  Super hot.  Way too hot for a kitty like me.  And I'm thinkin' with today's litigious society...

WHO CAN I SUE?

MOUSES!


Or should that be whom?

Either way, there must be SOMEONE, for sure, 'cause some peeps out there sue others at the drop of a hat.

And I wanna get in that action, and sue a dirty ol' rat.

Although maybe I shouldn't be callin' Mother Nature a dirty ol' rat, since she appears to be in control of the global thermostat, and all that.

MOUSES!

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

And remember:

IF IN DOUBT,

DON'T. GO. OUT.

Continue to practice SOCIAL DISTANCIN' measures

AND KEEP WASHIN' YOUR PAWS.

MOUSES!

goldilocks

I WANT OUT.

I WANT OUT.

I WANT OWWWT!

                         *********

Once upon a time, there was a lass with golden locks of hair.

Okay, so her hair isn't golden.  The box says chestnut brown.

MOUSES!

Once upon a time, there was a lass with chestnut brown hair named Goldilocks, who happened upon three bears.

Okay, so there weren't three bears.  There was actually just the one.

MOUSES!

Once upon a time, some bears broke into a house, and...

Okay, so even in the story, the bears didn't break into anyone's house.  The bears owned the house and Goldilocks was the one doin' the intrudin'.

MOUSES!

But nevertheless, I STILL WANT OUT.

But can I go outside in the garden, my friends?

NO, and do you know why?

BREAKING NEWS...  Bear sighting in the yard right across the street from my house.

MOUSES!

So anyway, that was what happened at my house on Monday.

And in case you're wonderin', I, Seville the Cat, did not see the bear.  But I heard all 'bout it from the peeps and the neighbours and...

AND THE NATIONAL EVENIN' NEWS!

Okay, so it wasn't actually on the news.

Although truth be told, there may very well have been reports of peeps hearin' some crazed cat yellin' at the top of his lungs that he wanted to go out.

'Cause yeah, I really was THAT loud.

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, Peepers wouldn't let me go out in the garden on account of a bear bein' spotted in the yard right across the street from us.  She said the bear had probably been in our yard, too, as our house lies between the neighbours' house and the woods and river out back.

I, Seville the Cat, was not amused.

MOUSES!

Not 'bout the bear, my friends.  I couldn't care less 'bout that itty bitty bear.

Okay, so by nature bears aren't itty bitty.  I admit that.

But still...

But still, shmill; Peepers wouldn't let me out of my house.

I ranted and I raved.

And I raved and I ranted.

And when my rantin' and ravin' didn't get me what I wanted, I RANTED AND RAVED EVEN MORE!

Well, as you can imagine, the peep wasn't pleased.

BUT WHO CARES?  It's not like Peepers was bein' held captive in her very own house.

Okay, so technically she kinda was, as she wasn't gettin' to go outside with a bear on the loose, either.

But what's important here is that I, Seville the Cat, didn't get to do as I wanted.

Let's not lose track of that.

And if there are any more complaints from the neighbours 'bout my rantin' and ravin'...

Well maybe they'd like an up close and PURRsonal front row seat next time.  It can be arranged, you know.  And I'll even give 'em half off the regular ticket price for the performance; what with their bein' neighbours, and all.

Right after I double what I normally charge.

MOUSES! 

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

And remember:

IF IN DOUBT,

DON'T. GO. OUT.

Continue to practice SOCIAL DISTANCIN' measures

AND KEEP WASHIN' YOUR PAWS.

MOUSES!

baker's dozen

And that makes thirteen.

MOUSES!

That's right, my friends, the peeps and I have been holed up in this here house for thirteen weeks.

Okay, so we're not exactly holed up, which is a good thing if you read my blog post on Wednesday 'bout the MYSTERIOUS HOLE in our front lawn.

But anyway...

The thing is...

The thing is, I have been havin' to spend an inordinately large amount of time with the peeps these past weeks.  And thirteen weeks on the calendar is nothin' - NOTHIN', I say! - compared to thirteen weeks in cat time, which is...

Um...

Uh...

Gosh, I'm runnin' out of claws for countin', but...

Let's see...

SEVENTY MILLION, SEVEN HUNDRED AND SIXTY-ONE THOUSAND, SIX HUNDRED SECONDS IN CAT TIME.

MOUSES!

Suffice it to say, it's a whole lot of seconds, for sure.

MOUSES!

And now that the mathematical portion of this here post is done, it's time to get to the nitty gritty part.  The dirt, so to speak.  The dirt on the peep.

No, not dirt from the garden.

Although she was out there diggin' in dirt yesterday, and yes, she did come back in rather...


Well...

Dirty.

MOUSES!

But that dirt aside, the REAL dirt is...

Peepers has been cheatin' on me.

MOUSES!

It's true.  Yesterday afternoon, I caught Peepers - aka Peep #1 - chattin' up a chippy out front on the driveway.

CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?

MOUSES!

That's right, folks, she was out there havin' a conversation with a cheeky chipmunk for at least five minutes.

Who does she think she is; SOME KINDA DISNEY PRINCESS?

MOUSES!

And if that wasn't enough, after she spoke to the chippy, she began to converse with a bird.

SHE DIDN'T EVEN KNOW WHAT KINDA BIRD IT WAS.

THE DIRTY WH...

Umm...

Peep.

MOUSES!

And then, later on, I heard her talkin' to a crow sittin' on a branch overhead.  That's right, a CROW!

MOUSES!

So the thing is...

The thing is, either Peepers has decided MY company isn't good enough for her anymore, durin' this time of stayin' home and social distancin' and stuff, or...

Or all the extra time alone, all by her lonesome, with only herself for company, has driven her 'round the bend.

You know, that bend in the road.  The one where you hang a right and keep on drivin' 'til you come to Wacko Corner, which is 'bout two clicks past Nutty Court, just beyond Oddball and Crazy Squirrel Town Lanes.

MOUSES!

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

And remember:

IF IN DOUBT,

DON'T. GO. OUT.

Continue to practice SOCIAL DISTANCIN' measures

AND KEEP WASHIN' YOUR PAWS.

MOUSES!

IS TOO

Is too.

"Is not."

Is too.

"Is not."

IS TOO.

"IS NOT."

IS...  Oh for mousin' out loud, Peepers.  Don't be such a peep.

I mean, stupid.  Don't be so stupid, Peepers.  Don't be...

Meh.  Peep..  Stupid...  Whatever.

MOUSES!

And as I was sayin', Peepers, there's a sink hole in the front yard.  AND YOU'D BE BEST to be wary 'bout that hole like a sink, 'cause if you're wanderin' about out there, it might just open up and swallow you whole.

"Seville, there is no sink hole in the front yard."

IS TOO.

"Seville..."

Before you say another word, Peepers, let me explain somethin' to you.  There's a hole.  And it's in the front yard.  Therefore, ergo, ipso facto defuncto...

"Seville, what does that even mean?"

Never you mind what it means, Peepers.  I mean, it means...  Well it means I'm right.  That's all you need to know.

MOUSES!

And it also means, we have a sink hole in the front yard.

MOUSES!

"Seville, I will admit there is a mysterious little hole in the lawn, a few inches deep."

LITTLE MY TAIL, PEEPERS!  That hole might just go up to your knee - maybe not even that high - but let me tell you somethin': if I, Seville the Cat, were to fall in that hole, IT WOULD SWALLOW ME RIGHT UP!  IT WOULD SWALLOW ME WHOLE!

"It's only a few inches wide."

A few inches might be small to you, Peepers, what with your big flat feet and all, but my delicate, graceful paws aren't even a quarter its size.

"Delicate, graceful paws, huh?"

YEAH, DELICATE.  GRACEFUL..  THAT'S HOW ONE MIGHT DESCRIBE MY PAWS.

"Or might not."

Grrrr...   Let me tell you somethin', Peepers, and I suggest you listen real hard.  THERE'S A SINK HOLE IN THE FRONT YARD.  MOUSES!

"Okay, fine.  What do you want me to do about this six inch deep, four inch wide supposed sink hole in the front yard?"

I want...

I want...

I WANT...

Well I don't rightly know what I want.  No, wait.  I do.  I want you to fill it in with somethin'.  I don't really care what.  Fill it in with rocks if you so desire.  JUST MAKE SURE IT'S GONE BY MORNIN' so I don't accidentally step in it and harm my DELICATE and GRACEFUL paws.

"FINE."

FINE.

MOUSES!

And in case you're all wonderin' there, my pals, we do have a mysterious hole in the front yard.  Not quite sure how it got there or how much bigger it'll get.  Peepers says it's not gonna get any bigger at all, but me?  Well I'm not quite convinced.  I'll do my best to keep you updated unless, of course, I am right as usual, and it is an actual sink hole and ends up growing to some ginormous and dangerous size.

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

And remember:

IF IN DOUBT,

DON'T. GO. OUT.

Continue to practice SOCIAL DISTANCIN' measures

AND KEEP WASHIN' YOUR PAWS.

MOUSES!

twelve weeks

And here we go for the dozen.

MOUSES!

So I've had the peeps at home here with me for twelve whole weeks.

Twelve weeks as in...

Like...

Uh...

Hold on a sec, I've gonna do the calculations on a scrap of paper, and...

Um...

Got it!  I've had the peeps at home here with me for sixty-five million, three hundred and eighteen thousand, and four hundred seconds, in cat time.

MOUSES!

And in case you're all wonderin', BEFORE YOU ALL ASK, YES.  Yes, the answer is YES.  Yes as in, I do have to do these weekly calculations, on account of this here blog of mine bein' a part of recorded history.  I mean, where else will future litters of kittens find out about the sufferin' cats have endured by havin' to have their peeps on their paws all day, every day, durin' this future historical time?

I mean...

I mean, have you ever read 'bout how the cats felt as they endured havin' their peeps home all day, every day, durin' the Spanish Flu?  Or the Bubonic Plague?  Or...  Or any other pandemic of any other kind?

NO, of course you haven't.  And why is that?

Well I'll tell you why that is.  It's 'cause no bloggin' kitty one or seven hundred years ago had the furthought to officially keep track of what they were endurin'.

Of course, there were no bloggin' kitties way back then, but still...

But still nothin'.  MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, peeps 'round these here parts are gettin' more freedoms to go out and about these days but unfortunately, MY peeps, are still home with me most of the time.  Oh sure, Peepers goes out once a week for groceries but one day a week is NOTHIN' compared to the days of yore.  Nothin', I tell you.  NOTHIN'!

Why I remember when...

I remember when Peepers never bothered to write up a grocery list before goin' shoppin' and therefore never got the stuff she needed and ended up goin' shoppin' like practically every other day.

Scratch that.  She usually did write the list.  She just never remembered to take it with her on account of her havin' the memory of a goldfish in a teeny tiny goldfish bowl.

But the thing is, I USED TO GET RID OF HER SEVERAL TIMES A WEEK!

Now, I'm lucky to get her out of the house once or twice.

MOUSES!

And I'm tellin' ya, this peeps on my paws business is gettin' old, real fast.

Why just the other day...

Just the other day, I found myself outside, not wantin' to come in.

Now truth be told, it had been a really warm day and I was enjoyin' the cool night air, so I didn't really wanna come inside anyway, but...

But the thought of havin' to deal with the peeps if I went back inside, was more than I could take.

So...

So I held out and didn't come in 'til one the next mornin'.

Problem is, the next day, Peepers refused to let me outside at all, sayin' I had been naughty and stuff - WHICH I WASN'T - but she was sayin' it nonetheless, and even though I was pretty darn tired the followin' mornin' and therefore quite happy to sleep in for a bit, by the time the evenin' rolled 'round, I was ready to party like no other cat has partied before in the history of catkind!

But the peep, bein' a peep, said I had to stay inside.

MOUSES!

So I, bein' the cat of infinite wisdom that I am, decided to eat some extra dry kibble, super duper fast, without chewin' it at all, and toss my cookies inside the peep's gardening shoes.


And do you know what happened then?

Well I'll tell you what happened then.  Peepers had to go to the store to get another pair of cheap shoes for workin' in the garden, so...

So I got Peepers to go out shoppin' for a second day in a row!

I'm tellin' you, I'm practically blinded by my own brilliance.

MOUSES!

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

And remember:

IF IN DOUBT,

DON'T. GO. OUT.

Continue to practice SOCIAL DISTANCIN' measures

AND KEEP WASHIN' YOUR PAWS.

MOUSES!

fact

Chipmunks are said to be cheeky 'cause they have fat cheeks.

FACT.

MOUSES!

Mousies are called mousies 'cause uh...

Um...

Well...

Well it doesn't really matter why we call 'em mousies, does it?  I don't even call 'em mousies, myself.  I, Seville the Cat, am more inclined to call 'em mice.  But to each his own, I suppose.  To each his own, and uh...

Um...

Well...

WELL...

Well FACT.

Okay, so that's technically not a fact, but let's get back to those cheeky chipmunks with their cheeks stuffed to the brim with whatever they've got in them there cheeks.

MOUSES!

What?  What's that, Peepers?  What's that you've babblin' on about now?

Oh, REALLY?  Well I think you'll find you're mistaken there, my peep.  I think you'll find you're mistaken, for sure, 'cause I have it on good authority that chipmunks ARE cheeky, and they're called cheeky on account of their fat cheeks.

On whose authority, you ask?

Well uh...

Um...

Well...

Well that would be mine.

FACT.

The thing is - and I do believe my pals out there will find this super-duper interestin' - chipmunks are indeed, cheeky.  They're cheeky on account of their searchin' about the yard lookin' for stuff to stuff in their cheeks.  That's how their cheeks get so fat, you see.

Why just the other day, I heard tell of a horde of cheeky chippies...

Stop interrupting me, Peepers!  STOP INTERRUPTIN'!  I'm not talking 'bout British fish 'n chip shops, woman.

Boy-oh-boy, sometimes I really do have to wonder 'bout my peep.

So anyway...

So anyway, as I was sayin' before bein' so rudely interrupted by the peep:  the other day I heard tell of a horde of cheeky chippies collectin' all the sunflower seeds a neighbour had planted, and stuffing 'em in their cheeks.

See?

CHEEKY.

FACT.

And the day before that, I happened to see a cheeky chippy myself.  Yup, I saw him right out there in my very own yard.  And he had the fattest chippy cheeks I ever did see; meanin' those cheeks were definitely stuffed to the brim with somethin' he most likely cheekily stole or misappropriated or just happened to find quite by accident, or...

But it doesn't really matter where he found the stuff to stuff in his cheeks, or what said stuff was, either.  What matters is that he stuffed so much stuff in those cheeks of his, he was...

Well...

CHEEKY.

And that there is one more fact.

MOUSES!

And...

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

What do you mean, what's MY excuse for bein' cheeky?  What do you MEAN?

Oh for mousin' sakes, woman.  I, Seville the Cat, am anythin' BUT cheeky.

I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU'VE HEARD.

Rumours, Peepers.  NOTHIN' BUT RUMOURS!

What, you still don't believe me?  Well get your tail on over here then, Peepers.  Get that tail of yours over here right now.  Look.  See?  "AHHHH"  See anythin' stuffed in my cheeks?  See anythin' at all?  No, of course you don't, 'cause I, Seville the Cat, am not cheeky.

I'm not a chippy, either.

I'm...

Well...

Well it doesn't really matter what I am, now, does it?  I...  I... I I I... I...  I'm a cat!

And that, too, is FACT.

MOUSES!

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

And remember:

IF IN DOUBT,

DON'T. GO. OUT.

Continue to practice SOCIAL DISTANCIN' measures

AND KEEP WASHIN' YOUR PAWS.

MOUSES!