seventy-three weeks

Hum-dee-dum-dee-dum-dee-DUM....

Hum-dee-dum-dee-dum-dee-DOE...

Oh hello there, my friends!  Stoppin' by to check in on me, are you?  Stoppin' by to see how I'm doin'?  Well that's pretty darn thoughtful of you, my friends, but...

BUT HOW DO YOU THINK I'M DOIN', HAVIN' BEEN STUCK HERE WITH A COUPLE OF GOOD-FOR-NOTHIN' PEEPS FOR THE LAST SEVENTY-THREE WEEKS?

That's three hundred and ninety-seven million, three hundred and fifty-three thousand, six hundred cat seconds, you know.

MOUSES!

And let me tell you somethin', my friends: even with time, it doesn't get any easier.

MOUSES!

So last time I blogged, I told you all 'bout the chipmunk who has kinda moved in.  Not into the house, thank goodness, but definitely moved into my yard, which is bad enough, for sure.

Time before that, I blogged all 'bout those bees.  The bees are my friends, and I know 'em all by name, so their buzzin' around isn't problematic, at all.

But today I wanna blog about the birds.  Yup, we've got birds.  We've got big ones and little ones and all sorts in between.

MOUSES!

It's kinda weird, to tell you the truth, 'cause the birdies have been buzzin'...  Sorry, FLYIN' about.  It's the bees who buzz.

Anyway...

So anyway, the birds have been flyin' about here like my garden has turned into Grand Central Station, or somethin' like that.  Grand Central Station minus the trains, of course, on account of my not havin' any trains in my yard, and...

Oohhh...  Now there's a thought!  Imagine my havin' my very own workin' train right here in my yard.  One of those steam engine ones 'cause I like how they look and how they go, Choo-CHOO...  And I'd have to have a conductor of course, 'cause I'd wanna ride 'round my yard in style, sippin' niptinis and such.  And if there's coal, I'M not shovellin' that coal into the furnace or whatever it is that powers the train 'cause that coal might get on my gorgeous marmalade furs and...  *shudders*  I don't wanna even think about that.

*furiously scribbles note to himself regarding cat-sized working trains bein' sold on E-Bay*

But I digress.  I believe we were talkin' about birds.

So we've got the chickadees and the woodpeckers and some smallish brown ones.  Couple mourning doves, too.  A few squawking blue jays, as well.  And MY GOSH can those blue jays squawk.

MOUSES!

And then there are the crows.  FYI, crows squawk, too.

MOUSES!

But the chickadees, my friends...  The chickadees!  They dart in and out of the veranda like there's no tomorrow, and you know what?  They're not afraid of the peep!  Can you imagine?  Nope, they're not afraid of her at all.

No one ever said they were smart.

MOUSES!

Saffron, on the other paw...

No, the chickadees don't appear to be afraid of Saffron.  Maybe they should, but apparently they aren't.

But Saffron...

Well Saffron is still afraid of the peep.

Although she does speak to Peepers these days.  Quite a lot, in fact.  Good thing Peepers doesn't understand Saffron's accent 'cause I understand Saffron quite well, and if the peep knew what Saffron was sayin'...

Well let's just say, the peep would not be amused.

You know, for a ladycat, Saffron has quite the potty mouth on her.

MOUSES!

Peepers is learnin', however.  She does seem to have figured out that when Saffron fizzes at her, it's not some kinda weird term of endearment.  Quite the opposite, in fact.  Peepers isn't givin' up, though.  She says her pride can handle a few fizzes.

Must keep that in mind, for myself.

No, Saffron doesn't fizz at me.

But I might wanna fizz at the peep!

MOUSES!

But I believe we were talkin' about chickadees, and the chickadees never fizz.  Nope, no fizzin', at all.  They just swoop in and out callin' chick-a-dee-dee-dee, chick-a-dee-dee-dee...

Seems to be the only word they know.

MOUSES!

And I swear, sometimes when they fly onto the veranda, and even though Peepers is standin' right there, they fly within a paw's reach.

CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?

MOUSES!

Now I know I put my paw down 'bout any ideas Peepers might be havin' of adoptin' a chipmunk as my brother from another mother, formerly known as dinner.  I put my paw down 'bout that, for sure.  In fact, I believe I put all four paws down, at the time.  I, Seville the Cat, REFUSE to have a brother I might confuse with supper.

MOUSES!

But a chickadee brother...

I mean, dinner.

Flyin' dinner...

No, Peepers won't likely go for that.

MOUSES!

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

And remember:

IF IN DOUBT,

DON'T. GO. OUT.

Continue to practice SOCIAL DISTANCIN' measures

AND KEEP WASHIN' YOUR PAWS.

MOUSES!

Remember to mask up, too.