countin' down

I'm countin' down the minutes, my friends.  I'M COUNTIN' DOWN THE MINUTES!  Yup, I'm countin' down the minutes 'til the year 2023 comes to an end.

MOUSES!

It's not that 2023 was all that bad.

But it wasn't all that great, either.

It simply was.

Was 2023, I mean.

MOUSES!

So I'm sittin' here in my office, watchin' the clock.  Watchin' the little ol' second paw move around and around.  And around.  And waitin' for the clock's other paws to move about, too.

Yeah, it IS kinda borin', for sure.

MOUSES!

But by gosh and by golly, once that hour paw strikes twelve...

I'M GONNA BE PARTYIN' LIKE NO KITTY HAS EVER PARTIED BEFORE.

I'm gonna get nipped.

MOUSES!

But on the other paw...

On the other paw, WHY SHOULD I WAIT 'TIL IT'S TWELVE?

You know, when I actually think about it, waiting 'til midnight to get nipped seems so silly.  I happen to know FOR. A. FACT. that on the other side of the world, it's already tomorrow.  Already next year!  Already...

ALREADY TIME TO BE WELL AND TRULY NIPPED.

MOUSES!

And wouldn't I enjoy seein' in the new year oh-so-much-more with a biff bag in one paw and another on my head, and...

Okay, so maybe not one on my head.  Walkin' around with a biff bag on your head is a trick I CAN do.

If I try.

I think.

But doin' tricks with the sole purpose of entertainin' your peeps is so very demeanin'.  You know?

Of course you do.

At least you know, now.  Now that I've told you, I mean.

Plus, the darned biff bag keeps fallin' off my head.

MOUSES!

I think that instead of just sittin' here watchin' the clock, I should get myself a biff bag, and start gettin' myself nipped.  I won't put one on my head, but I'll definitely start gettin' nipped.

Oh, and I should also start workin' on my list.  You know the one.  The list I make every year.  The list of New Year Resolutions...

....I MAKE FOR THE PEEP.

Not that she ever keeps any of the resolutions I make for her, but maybe...

Just MAYBE...

Maybe 2024 will be her year.

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.

whew

Well that wasn't fun.

Okay, so actually it was.

MOUSES!

But BUSY, I tell you.  Busy!  Busy, busy, busy, for sure.  THERE WAS SO MUCH TO DO!

But we got 'er all done.

Whew.

MOUSES!

So first there was Christmas Eve.  Saffy fell asleep on the job.

Of course.

He was SUPPOSED to stay up, waitin' for Santa.  He was SUPPOSED to take the first shift.

He was NOT supposed to fall asleep under said tree, only to wake up and find Santa had already been.

MOUSES!

Then came Christmas mornin'.  Tree ornaments to whack about.  Ribbons to shred.  Wrappin' paper to lie on and crush.

You know, those sorta things.

We were goin' full tilt for a while, Saffy and I.  Once the nip in the biff bags kicked in, mayhem ensued.

Saffron tried his best to get into the box his biff bags came in.  "If I fits, I sits!" he yelled out loud.

"But you DON'T fit, Saffron, my man.  That there box is way too small for sittin'," I replied.

"Then I'll wear it as a hat," is what he then said.

And did.

MOUSES!

Christmas Day afternoon and evenin' are kind of a blur.  There was nappin' and snackin',  and MORE nappin' goin' on.  I kinda remember Peepers walkin' about wearin' a lampshade like a hat, and...

No.  Wait.  That was Saffron, I think.  Saffron with a gift box stuck on his head.

Did I mention 'bout how we cats were thoroughly nipped?

MOUSES!

So that was Christmas.  Next came Boxin' Day.

Now BOXIN' Day is the day to wear a box on your head.

MOUSES!

Peepers left a couple big boxes intact just for us, and...

Well most of the day was spent restin'.  Restin' in boxes and recoverin' from nip, and...

Oh, who am I kiddin'?  Saffy and me?  WE WERE BOTH STILL WELL NIPPED.

To tell you the truth, we still are.

My gosh that nip was good stuff.

Santa really did well.

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.

it's finally here

I can't believe it.

It's finally here!

Christmas Eve is TODAY.

YOO-HOO!

MOUSES!

That's right, my friends.  Today is Christmas Eve.

Or should that be Christmas Eve, Day?

Hmmm...  No matter.  Tonight will be Christmas Eve, to be sure.

Christmas Eve...  The Night Before Christmas...  The day before the big guy in red squeezes himself down our chimney to leave prezzies under the tree, grabs a few cookies Peepers has left out along with a bunch of carrots for the reindeer, and then scoots back up the chimney 'til next year.

Paws crossed he'll still fit in the chimney after eatin' all those cookies.  I had best ask the peep not to leave out TOO many, if you know what I mean.

MOUSES!

So are all you kitties out there ready for Christmas?

You're NOT?

MOUSES!

To tell you the truth, I wasn't ready, myself, 'til early this mornin'.  I sent Saffy out for a mouse or somethin' for us to give the peep, but he came back in with a twig.

It'll do.

MOUSES!

Actually, to tell you the truth AGAIN, Peepers is always tellin' us to leave the wildlife alone so I'm thinkin' a twig will be better than a mouse or a bird.

And WAY better than a snail or slug.

Peeps freak out over those.

MOUSES!

So yeah, Saffron and I are definitely all ready for tomorrow.  We've got the twig under the tree and we've been on our best behaviour, and...

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

BEIN' ON OUR BEST BEHAVIOUR FOR TWO HOURS AND TWENTY MINUTES DOES TOO COUNT.  IT MOST DEFINITELY COUNTS, TO BE SURE.

Believe me, I should know.  

Two hours of best behaviour counted last year and we're already twenty minutes past that.

Sweet.

MOUSES!

Oh!  I almost forgot.  'Bout this time every year, I usually share links to all my adventures from Christmases past.  I had best do that again,  I think.

Wouldn't want anyone to miss out.

MOUSES!

2013:  Home in Time for Christmas

2014:  The Naughty List

2015:  The Mysterious Christmas Ornament

2016:  Reindeer Dust  (part I)

2016:  Seville Saves Christmas  (part II)

2017:  Santa's Mail Train  (part I)

2017:  Mason to the Rescue  (part II)

2017:  The Shelf Elf

2019:  The Santa Sack, Part I

2019:  The Santa Sack, Part II

MERRY CHRISTMAS, EVERYONE!

...and to all a good night.

private line

Now let me get this straight.

So you're sayin'...

What I think you're tellin' me is...

I'm sure I've got this right.

I HAVE MY OWN PRIVATE PHONE LINE, NOW?

Sweet.

MOUSES!

I know, I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin' that I, Seville the Cat...

Oh why don't I just tell you.  I, Seville the Cat, now have my very own, private phone line.

Just as it should be.

MOUSES!

That's right, and I shall fill you in on all the details.  Months and months and months ago - maybe even years - the peeps started gettin' calls for this guy named...  Hmmm...  Well, we'll call him Mr X, so as to maintain his privacy.

MOUSES!

But anyway...

But anyway, some legal office in Ontario kept callin' for Mr X over and over and over again.  But there was no Mr X livin' here.  And I would know, on account of MY livin' here and knowin' all the names of all the peeps who have ever so much as stepped paw in my house, not to mention lived in it.

MOUSES!

So after ascertainin' that I, Seville the Cat, had not at some point gone by the name of Mr X, myself - which I hadn't - Peepers got on the blower to this office to tell 'em that not only did Mr X not live here, but she didn't even know anyone goin' by that name.  And she told 'em not to phone here anymore.

But they kept on phonin'!

Thing is, they weren't actually callin' our number.  They were callin' some OTHER number but the calls were all comin' here.

So a month or two ago, it was finally suggested that Mr X was forwardin' his calls to our number, but that didn't make all that much sense on account of our only gettin' SOME of his calls.  You'd think we'd get 'em all, if that were the case.  Right?  Right.

MOUSES!

But yesterday, when the calls started up once more, the guy at the law office gave Peepers the actual number they've been dialin'.  This was perhaps kinda by accident as by this time Peepers was not only annoyed, but was also bein' super annoyin'.  And sure enough, the number he gave her wasn't ours.

Or was it...

Duh duh duh DUH....

MOUSES!

Well after waitin' on hold - for what seemed like at least one of a cat's lifetimes - to speak with our phone service provider's customer service, only to be referred to technical support where she waited on hold again, only to MYSTERIOUSLY lose the connection once she finally got through...  And after callin' once more and waitin' on hold AGAIN to speak with technical support, she was able to get a few answers.  A few answers, but not all.

She had to phone customer service again.

*sighs*

But now it's all sorted!

We hope.

Got my paws crossed, for sure.

Apparently, the number the law office has for this Mr X is an INACTIVE number that has been reserved for my peeps in case they might, at some future date, wanna use it, even though no one ever, ever, EVER said anythin' about it to any of us.  Weird, right?  Yeah, most definitely weird.  And in the meantime, if anyone does dial the number, it goes straight through to our real one.  Our real number, I mean, but with a different soundin' ring.

So the bottom line is, our phone service provider has RESERVED a number for...

ME.

At least that's how I see it.

So now, the next time Santa wants to call me, he can call me at my new number.  I'll know it's from him on account of it havin' a very special double ring.  And only I, Seville the Cat, will be allowed to answer.

Again, that's how I see it.

Now I just have to write to Santa and tell him 'bout my new private line.  No need for him to have to keep leavin' messages with the peeps.

'Cause they're really not very good at writin' said messages down, correctly.

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.

so tell me

So tell me, Peepers, do you ENJOY bein' a stupidy dupidy dupe?

Well DO you?

Actually, don't bother answerin' that.  It was more of a rhetorical question, you see.

MOUSES!

But on the other paw...

On the other paw, maybe you don't so much enjoy bein' a stupidy dupidy dupe, as uh...

Well, um...

Well maybe it's just somethin' that comes to you, naturally.

MOUSES!

Don't give me that look, Peepers.  It's your own fault, and you know it.  Yup, it's all your own fault.  One hundred and ninety three point eight percent your own fault, give or take a percentage point or two.

MOUSES!

'CAUSE IF YOU HADN'T MADE THAT JUNK ROOM OF YOURS OFF LIMITS TO SAFFY AND ME, YOU WOULDN'T HAVE LOST YOUR STUPID OL' BOOTS IN THE FIRST PLACE.  THAT'S WHY.

MOUSES!

That's right, my friends.  That's right.  In case you haven't already guessed, Peepers' three pairs of missin' boots are no longer missin'.  They have been found.  And do you know where they happened to be found?  I'll give you three guesses, although I'm bettin' you'll need only the one.

MOUSES!

Right again!  Those missin' boots were found in that junk room of hers.  The very same room Saffy had been tryin' to get into last week, before Peepers closed the door on him.

SHE CLOSED IT PRACTICALLY RIGHT IN HIS FACE!

And had she not been so incredibly rude to exclude Saffy Saffron Sassifras from that room, that day, perhaps Saffy would have noticed those three pairs of boots sittin' in bags on top of the suitcase where they were eventually found.  And had Saffron noticed those boots, when Peepers was lookin' here and there and pretty much everywhere for 'em - to no avail, I might add - Saffy might have said somethin' like: You mean those stupid boots in the bags on the silly red suitcase?

BUT OH NO...

Oh no, Peepers was bound and determined to not allow Saffron and me into her stupid ol' junk room and, bein' as unobservant as an unobservant peep can possibly be, she did not notice 'em, herself.

The boots, I mean.

And even though I'm sure she looked in that room more than once...

Peepers failed to notice the three pairs of boots in the bags, sittin' in the corner on the suitcase.

Good grief, they were sittin' there for all and sundry to see.

'Cept, of course, for the peep.

Maybe for Christmas I'll get her new glasses.

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.

how do you... ?

How do you...

I mean, why would you...

I mean, how can it be...

I mean, HOW THE MOUSIE, MOUSIN', MOUSES DO YOU LOSE A PAIR OF BOOTS?

Oh sure, I've heard the tales of runnin' shoes bein' spotted on the road, here and there.  Just the one, mind you.  The one here.  Then, I guess, another one over there.  Somewhere.  And to tell you the truth, I've always wondered how that kinda thing happened.  How does a peep lose ONE shoe?  Wouldn't they have been wearin' both of 'em, together?

MOUSES!

But now, Peepers, you're tellin' me, you lost a whole, entire PAIR of boots.

How the mouses did you manage that?

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

You didn't lose a pair of boots, you say.

THEN WHAT ARE YOU COMPLAIN' ABOUT?  I thought you said...

You lost TWO pairs of boots?

MOUSES! 

It gets stranger and stranger my friends.  Stranger and stranger by the minute, and...

WHAT?

WHAT?

THREE?  It was THREE pairs of boots you managed to lose?

All in one go?

MOUSES!

For mousin' out loud, Peepers.  How the heck did you do that?  How the heck did you lose three pairs of boots all at the same time?

MOUSES!

So let me get this straight.  Last spring, you cleaned 'em up once the winter weather was over and put 'em all away someplace safe.  Someplace safe where they'd stay 'til you needed 'em again.  Someplace safe where you would find 'em again.  And now...

And now...

And now...

AND NOW YOU DON'T REMEMBER WHERE THAT SOMEPLACE SAFE COULD POSSIBLY BE.

Of all the mousie, mousin', moused-up things for a peep to do.

*sighs*

And you've looked high and you've looked low and you STILL can't find those boots, huh?

Hmmm...

WELL JUST DON'T YOU GET ANY IDEAS 'BOUT PUTTIN' AWAY ANY OF MY THINGS WHERE YOU THINK THEY SHOULD BE SAFE.

But probably never to be seen again.

Come to think of it, I AM missin' a few of my most favourite of my very favourite toys.

Awww...

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.

bluebeard

She did what?  WHAT?  She did WHAT, Saffron, my man?

Of all the no good things for a peep to do.

Awww...  MOUSES!

Saffron, did you not tell Peepers 'bout how you and I have the run of the house, no matter what?  The whole house?  How you and I can go wherever we want, whenever we want to go?  Did you not tell her 'bout all that?

You did?  And she STILL closed the door on you?

Of all the...

Awww...  MOUSES!

Looks like I'M gonna have to take matters into my own paws and go have a little chat with that peep.  Tell her what's what.  Tell her how it is.  Tell her...

On the other paw...

Saffron, just what door did the peep close on you?

Oh.

I see.

Hmmm.

Well...

Well it's like this, Saffron: you and I don't get to go in that particular room.

I know, I know...  I know what I said.  I know I said we cats have the run of the house.  The whole, ENTIRE house.  I know.

And really and truly, we do.  Have the run of the whole house, I mean.  'Cept for that one, particular room.

MOUSES!

Why?  Why does that one door remain closed to us at all times, you ask?

Well...

Well have you heard the tale 'bout the guy named Bluebeard, my man?

No?  Well no matter, ol' brother of mine.  Peepers doesn't have a beard.

I don't think.

MOUSES!

Okay, it's like this: there are dangerous things in that there little room.

Oh I have absolutely no idea what's in there that's too dangerous for us to see.  I think the iron is in there.  But it's turned off when not in use, and when it's turned off, it's not dangerous at all.  So like I said, I have no idea.

And truth be told, I don't think there is anything in there that's dangerous.  It's a small room, you see.  Bigger than a closet, but not by much.  But I suspect the peeps kinda use that room like a closet, puttin' all the stuff in there they don't know where else it should be put.

What?

Yeah, like the iron.

Can't remember the last time I saw Peepers use it for ironin'.

MOUSES!

It's the ol' junk drawer sorta thing.  'Cept, of course, it's a room.  A room filled with junk.

What?

Yeah, like the iron.

After all, an iron that's never ever used, probably IS junk.

MOUSES!

Oh, and there's wrappin' paper and stuff like that, too, I do believe.  At least there was.  Way back when, when some of us kitties WERE allowed in that room, I found a whole pile of wrappin' paper and ribbons and bows and things.  My gosh they were fun to play with.  Paper for tearin', ribbons for chasin', and Saffron, DID YOU KNOW that bows can usually be sat on 'bout six times - sometimes even seven - before they stop floofin' back up and are still able to be used as bows?  I speak from experience, you see, and...

Hmmm...

Come to think of it, that might have been 'bout the time we cats stoppin' bein' able to access that room.

Hmmm....

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.

MOUSES!

Oh. My. Mouses.

MOUSES!

MOUSES!

Oh my mousie mousin' mouses.

MOUSES!

That ever happen to you, my pals?  That ever happen to you?  Have you ever totally, totally, TOTALLY lost track of the time of the day, or the days of the week, or...

Or like me, the months of the year?

Then one day, you happen to glance at the calendar on the wall, and notice that ol' Peepers has gone and changed said calendar to the month of December.

Gone and changed it without tellin' you, I might add.

Then all of a sudden...

YOU REALISE YOU HAVE LESS THEN THREE WEEKS BEFORE CHRISTMAS.

And then you remember how you haven't yet written to Santa or found prezzies for the peeps.

And worse than all that...

YOU HAVEN'T YET STARTED BEIN' GOOD TO MAKE SURE YOUR NAME DOESN'T APPEAR ON THE MASTER NAUGHTY LIST.

WELL HAS IT?

Has it happened to you, is what I mean.

MOUSES!

Yup, if you were at my house this mornin', you would have heard a whole lot of mouses this and mouses that, on account of my walkin' past the calendar today and noticin' Peepers had changed said calendar to December.  I'm not sure exactly when she changed it, but I'm thinkin' it was probably 'bout six days ago.  But the thing is...

The thing is...

The thing is, SHE DIDN'T TELL ME.

Well I tried changin' it back to November to give me more time.  But the calendar is pretty high up on the wall and kinda out of my reach.  So when I jumped up to its height, instead of flippin' the page, I ended up bringin' the whole thing down.  Yup, there it was, lyin' on the floor, I'm afraid.

Then Peepers informed me how my plan wasn't gonna work, anyway.  How flippin' the calendar back to November wasn't gonna actually take me back in time.  And the proof she had provin' this was the calendar upstairs that no one ever remembers to change.  Apparently, not changin' it has never held time back, nor stopped it from movin' forward.

Or so she says.

MOUSES!

AND THEN Peepers informed me how not only was my plan not gonna work, but it had, in fact, backfired.  'Cause bringin' a calendar down from the wall, effectively tearin' the little hole thingy from which it normally hangs, is somethin' that might be considered to be uh...

Umm...

Well, you know...

NAUGHTY.

SO NOW I HAVE ONE MORE item of naughtiness to undo before Christmas.

Why is bein' good always so hard?

MOUSES!

Hey everybody!  Remember way back when, when Nissy wrote about Santa's Naughty List right here on this blog?  Remember?  Well in case you've forgotten - or would just like to read it again - the story The Naughty List can be found right over here: The Naughty List.

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

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.

tip of the tail

Good grief, Peepers, what did you do that for?

What for?

That for.

What?

That.

THAT!

By gosh and by golly, peeps can be so slow on the uptake, sometimes.

MOUSES!

For mousin' out loud, a kitty points to somethin' stupid with the tip of his tail - so as not to bring too much attention to the stupid somethin' his silly peep has done, you see, on account of wantin' to ask his peep 'bout why somethin' so stupid was done in the first place, but at the same time, not wantin' to point said stupid somethin' out to whole entire world, as doin' so could be embarrassin' to his peep - and his peep doesn't even notice him pointin' his tail.

Silly peep.

SO WHAT IF I JUST USED JUST THE VERY TIP OF MY TAIL, PEEPERS?  SO WHAT?  Usin' just the tip to point out the results of your foolishness was intentional, you know.  I WAS TRYIN' to be discreet.

MOUSES!

But back to the question at paw: Peepers, what did you do that for?

What?

That.

And here we go again.

MOUSES!

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

You didn't realise I was usin' my tail to point out your foolishness, you say?  You thought I was just flickin' my tail as I sometimes do, this way and that, out of annoyance or somethin' like that?

Hmmm...

Well...

Well I can see your point there, ol' peep of mine, SINCE I DO have a tendency to do that sorta thing.  Although I rarely flick my tail out of annoyance, you know.  When I flick my tail it's more likely to be...

Well, sometimes it is 'cause I'm annoyed.

But more often it's 'cause I'm doin' my tail exercises.  Cats have multiple tail muscles, you know, and it's wise to keep 'em all well toned.  A kitty wants to look good for the ladies, you see.

Plus, I've found that with the flick of a well-toned tail, it's possible to direct a wayward treat across the floor in the direction of my mouth, alleviatin' any need for me to actually get up off my butt and walk over to said treat.

MOUSES!

But back to the question at paw: Peepers, what did you do that for?

What?

That.

Wait a minute...  

To tell you the truth, Peepers, I'm really not sure.  I know you did SOMETHIN' stupid, ol' peep of mine, 'cause there was somethin' I was wonderin' about, before; but after this here stupid conversation, I'VE GONE AND PLUM FORGOT.

I worry sometimes, my friends.  I worry quite a lot.  I worry Peepers' stupidity is infectious.

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.