climb every mountain

Peepers!

Peepers!

HEY!  PEEPERS!!!  Get your sorry tail over here.

Please.

'Cause I'm nothin' if not polite.

MOUSES!

Peepers, just what the mouses are Saffy and I expected to with that?

That.

THAT.

Yeah, that.  That mountain of freshly-laundered laundry.  That.

MOUSES!

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

You want us to WHAT?

Of all the crazy, moused-up, mousin' things to suggest.

You been into the nip, there, ol' peep of mine?  The human nip, I mean.  You been drinkin' Crown Royal on the job, or somethin' like that?

Well I beg to differ, Peepers-be-jeepers.  The suggestion that Saffron and I should leave a mountain of freshly-laundered laundry alone has got to be the craziest, most moused-up, mousin' suggestion you've ever made.  And it's not like you've never come up with a stupid suggestion or two before.  It's just that THIS suggestion has got to be the most stupid, for sure.

MOUSES!

'Cause cats are drawn to piles of freshly-laundered laundry like cheese curds and gravy to fries, or Quebec maple syrup to Nova Scotian wild blueberry pancakes, or moths to a flame, or...  Or..  OR CATNIP TO A CHEESE CRACKER!  Nothin', and I do mean NOTHIN' - 'cept maybe the nip on a cracker thing - is as attractive to a cat than a mountain of freshly-laundered laundry.

NOTHIN'!

Peepers, the pile is like twenty-five thousand paws high.  How the mouses are we cats supposed to get up there?  Neither Saffy nor I can jump that high.  We could climb, I suppose, but the risk of it all fallin' down on top of us is...

On the other paw...

But on the other paw, if we were to climb up that mountain of freshly-laundered laundry, and said mountain were to fall down...

Well, then we'd have a much more reasonable vertically-challengin' pile of freshly-laundered laundry upon which to spend an afternoon snoozin'.

And nicely spread out, too.  Kinda like a king-sized bed for us cats.

Don't know why I didn't think about that before.

MOUSES!