Hey everybody! Sivvers the Cat, here, bringin' you all the latest news from sunny Nova Scotia.
Okay, so um...
So it's like...
Well...
Well it's a slow news day here, to be sure, WHICH MEANS, I...
Yeah, I really don't have any news to tell. Not any new news, that is. And old news... Well, old news isn't really news, is it.
MOUSES!
So no new news at all.
*sighs*
Accept, of course, for the fact that Peepers was up late last night and ended up sleepin' in this mornin', WHICH MEANT my brekkies were late.
BY A WHOLE HALF HOUR.
Can you believe it?
MOUSES!
What? What's that, Peepers? What's that you're babblin' on about now?
FINE.
So apparently, Peepers says I have to mention that the reason she was up 'til like three o'clock in the mornin' was 'cause Saffron didn't come inside until then. And because Saffy didn't come in when he was called, Peepers was out there in the yard with her trusty little ol' flashlight, callin' over and over again for that naughty kitty. But of course, her calls were really more like loud whispers. Stage whispers, you might say. She couldn't call out loudly 'cause....
Well...
You know...
'CAUSE IT WAS THE WEE HOURS OF THE MORNIN' AND EVERYBODY IN THE NEIGHBOURHOOD WAS TRYIN' TO SLEEP.
Accept, of course, for the peep. You know, on account of her bein' outside in the yard lookin' for Saffy.
What? What's that, Peepers? What's that you're babblin' on about NOW?
FINE.
So apparently, Saffy wasn't wholly to blame. APPARENTLY, Peepers says I put him up to it. Or he was copyin' me. Or somethin' or other like that. Sorta. Kinda. You know what I mean.
Personally, I wanna see the proof before I take any actual blame.
'CAUSE PEEPS CAN'T JUST GO 'ROUND BLAMIN' GOOD LITTLE KITTIES LIKE ME WITHOUT FIRST OFFERIN' UP SOME PROOF. I'M NOT BEIN' RAILROADED INTO ADMITTIN' SOMETHIN' I'VE DONE.
At least not if that somethin' can't be proven.
What? What's that, Peepers? What's that you're babblin' on about NOW?
You have WHAT?
MOUSES!
By gosh and by golly, It's like she's hired some kinda private investigator or somethin'. Some private investigator who's followin' me around, watchin' my every move, and takin' down notes. Or like she's channelling Miss Marple or Jessica Fletcher. Or...
NO ONE WANTS TO HEAR 'BOUT YOUR CROOKED, UNSUBSTANTIATED PROOF, OL' PEEP OF MINE. NO ONE WANTS TO HEAR!
Especially not me.
I'm tellin' ya, a kitty can't get away with anythin' around here.
MOUSES!
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Remember to mask up, too.
I think you should both have GPS trackers on you. :)
ReplyDeleteYou need to file a case with your untion rep.
ReplyDeleteJust like a peep, Sivvers. Where does she get off blaming you for something Saffy did? MOUSES!
ReplyDeleteMy word, surely there's a law against such skulduggery. Me with shoes of gum tracking your every move, even in the litter tray! It'll be phone taps next; you mark my words, Seville, then secretly implanting you with trackers. I mean, it may be OK for certain ex- US presidents to be caught that way, but not a cat of such high standing.
ReplyDeleteToodle pips and purrs
ERin
Our old neighbor's cat, Lifesaver, was always running away to hide. He would walk around, calling, "Lifesaver, Lifesaver!" Usually, the cat was hiding under the neighbor's porch.
ReplyDelete