clean up

Thataway, Peepers.  I said, THATAWAY.

Yup, yup...  Back it on up over here.  A little further, now...  Just a tad more.  Yeah, I'll motion when you need to stop.

STOP!!!

PEEPERS!  Pay attention now.  PEEPERS!

Oh for mousin' out loud, you're not payin' any attention, at all!

MOUSES!

Happens every year, my friends.  Actually, it happens twice.  Twice a year, that is.  Yup, every spring and every fall.

PEEPERS!  Peepers, I thought I told you that stuff goes in pile number one.  The pile on the left.

Not YOUR left, Peepers.  MINE!

Oh for mousin' out loud, the peep doesn't know her right from her left.

Goodness knows WHAT she'd do if she had four paws and not just the two.

MOUSES!

But as I was sayin'...

As I was sayin', it's clean up time around here.  Time to gather up all the stuff peeps have been accumulatin' over the last few months, and get said stuff down to the curb.

And it wouldn't be so complicated...

And it wouldn't be so complicated, if it weren't for the fact that clean up day and garbage day are one in the same.

MOUSES!

Okay, truth be told, that shouldn't be complicated at all.

Clean up and garbage day bein' on the same day, I mean.

Except for the fact...

Except for the fact...

Except for the fact that SOME peeps - aka Peepers - get all confused regardin' what stuff goes where.

MOUSES!

PEEPERS!  PEEPERS!  Peepers, you can't put kitty litter in the clean up pile.  Dirty stuff like that goes in the pile on the left.

MY left.

I thought I explained all that before.

MOUSES!

No, Peepers.  NO!  That's not the pile on my left.  You've gotta put the used litter over there.

Why the mouses should I have to keep track of where YOUR left is?  It's always my left.  Always! Unless, of course, it's my right.  But then I'd be sayin' my right, now, wouldn't I.

MOUSES!

And as you can see, directin' peeps on clean up / garbage day is no easy task.  Why, Saffron was out here, helpin', for all of about ten minutes before he threw all four of his paws up in the air and stomped back into the house.

And let me tell you somethin', my friends: it was quite the sight to see.  Yup, quite the sight, for sure, on account of the fact that immediately prior to his havin' his absolutely justified little hissy fit with paws flailin' everywhere, Saffy had been pointin' the peep in the direction of where she should be puttin' the green bin.  And when all four paws flew up in the air...

Flew up in the air in four different directions...

Well, let's just say, mayhem ensued.

WHICH IS WHY...

Which is why, directin' the peep is now all up to me.

*sigh*

MOUSES!

Once again, Peepers, used litter goes over there.  Old, broken stuff from the garage comes over here.  Here, Peepers.  Here.  Bring that string of no longer workin' Christmas tree lights over here.  Put 'em here, on the right.

MY right, Peepers.  MINE.

Never you mind why the lights no longer work.  You wanna take dental impressions on what's left of the chewed up bit of cord, be my guest.  But you had best take your own dental impressions while you're at it, too, 'CAUSE YOU CAN'T GO BLAMIN' US CATS FOR EVERY NON-EDIBLE THING THAT HAPPENS TO GET A LITTLE CHEWED.

That's speciesism, that is.

And totally unfair to us cats.

Like no peep has ever been known to chew on non-edibles - aka pens, pencils, finger nails, etc... - before.

MOUSES!