they want to do WHAT?

They want to do what?

And these peeps got elected?  Really? ON PURPOSE?

Wow.  Peeps will elect just about anyone these days and yet my brother, Nissy, never got his appointment to the Canadian Senate.  MOUSES!

If you've been on-line in the last few days, you've probably heard the big news.  It's all over the net.  It's everywhere.  There are on-line petitions about it and everything. Cats and peeps from around the world are all talking about David Cameron's government introducing the Psychoactive Substances Bill in the House of Lords on May 28th.  A bill to apply across the United Kingdom.  A bill that has the potential to ban catnip.  That's right folks, the UK government wants to ban the nip.

WHAT ARE THEY SMOKING?

Turns out, they may have been smoking the nip.  MOUSES!

Panic was raging across the Internet.  What, no nip for cats who are Brits?  When a moggy can't get his paws on a little nip, the world has gone to you-know-where in a hand basket.  And what is a hand basket, anyway?  Perhaps it's a basket in which to carry your nip.

Terror was rising across the land for fear that the country had gone all to pot.  Would backyard nip growers have their nip plants confiscated?  Would Scotland Yard coppers be racing around the British Isles, breaking down garden fences and ripping out home-grown nip plants with their bare paws?  I mean, hands?  Would British prisons be filled to the brim with little old ladies who had been caught supplying knitted nip mice to local church bazaars?  Would peeps really be doing time at Her Majesty's Pleasure for doing nothing more than growing a little catnip for their feline friends?  And would their feline friends ever come to visit them in prison?  MOUSES!

The Psychoactive Substances Bill will prohibit the production, distribution and sale of new psychoactive substances such as...  wait for it...  NIP.

According to several Internet sources, it has been confirmed that the term psychoactive substance does apply to Nepeta cataria.  I can't track down exactly who confirmed this but word on the street is that it was someone in a governmental position.  My question is this...  What was he smoking because I'm pretty sure it was a whole lot stronger than the nip.

Have they all gone off their trolly?

Or maybe it's all a ploy made by politicians to get some international late-night television coverage. I can see it now...  You can't prove it was nip in that pipe.  Okay, fine.  I smoked a little nip, once, way back in college, but I NEVER inhaled.  MOUSES!

As you can imagine, the moment I heard about this catastrophe in the making, I got right on it.  I did a little digging.  No, not in the litter box.  I dug around on the net.  The Internet, to be exact.  I read a whole bunch of stuff including the entire Psychoactive Substances Bill.  All forty-eight pages of it and let me tell you, it nearly put me to sleep.

But reading the Psychoactive Substances Bill confirmed my worst fears.  Indeed, it will be "an offence to  produce, supply, offer to supply, possess with intent to supply, import or export psychoactive substances."  Breaking the law will result in stiff fines and up to seven years in prison.  Seven years.  Do you have any idea how long that is in cat years?  MOUSES!

No production means saying goodbye to having a little patch of the nip growing up against your garden wall. And no sales means that pet stores can't stock nip on their shelves.  Gosh, you won't even be able find knitted nip mice at local car boot sales.

Thankfully, simple possession of the nip is not covered by the bill.  Guess they don't want to throw a bunch of nipped-up moggies in prison with hardened criminals like...  you know... WEASELS.

But I couldn't get rid of this nagging feeling.  The feeling that considering nip to be a psychoactive substance was as barmy as barmy can be.  CRAZY.  Nissy would have said it was crazier than a squirrel making nut pies kind of crazy and I have to agree.  MOUSES!

Now urban legend does say that catnip can make a peep high.  Not high as in up on the cupboard shelves kind of high but rather, high as in being nipped.  But this, my friends, is nothing more than an urban legend.  Apparently, peeps once believed that smoking banana peels would do the same thing which caused a brief shortage of bananas in Berkley, California, back in the day.  Need I say it?  MOUSES!

On the other paw, consuming nutmeg and poppy seeds, can make peeps high.  Oh yeah, they don't want catnip on pet store shelves but will they get rid of eggnog and poppy seed bagels?  Probably not.  Peeps are a very hypocritical species, you see.

Catnip is never going to make a peep high but it can affect how they feel.  The active ingredient in nip is nepetalactone which can act as a sedative.  A very mild sedative.  Like drinking a glass of warm milk.  Or reading the entire forty-eight pages of the Psychoactive Substances Bill all at one go.  Believe me, I know.

Are they going to outlaw warm milk and government bills, too?

According to the Psychoactive Substances Bill, a psychoactive substance is anything that when consumed by a peep, affects them "by stimulating or depressing the person's central nervous system."

Now this is interesting because if that makes nip a psychoactive substance, surely chocolate and coffee are as well.  I know first paw that my first peep without coffee in the morning is a very scary peep, indeed.  But pour a pot of the brew down her throat and all of a sudden, she's Little Miss Cheerful.  And as for chocolate?  Never seen a happier peep than a peep who just ate a chocolate bar.  MOUSES!

So I dug a little deeper and I think, my British feline friends, you're going to be okay.  Apparently there are exceptions.  So-called legitimate things that may very well be psychoactive substances but will not be made illegal so as to allow peeps access to their coffee and chocolate, not to mention alcohol, baccy and a few dodgy things.

Currently, catnip is not listed as an exception.  At least not specifically.  I suggest you bombard David Cameron with phone calls and e-mails, demanding that catnip be added to this exceptional  list of exceptions for if peeps can have their nutmeg-laced eggnog and poppy seed bagels, surely a moggy can have a little nip.

After all, it's not your fault that some peeps think smoking the stuff is going to make them high.  I mean, some peeps still think the Earth is flat and others think that the moon is made of cheese. Cheese...  Mmm....  MOUSES!

In other words, some peeps are just naturally nipped and have managed to get themselves nipped without imbibing in catnip at all.

On the other paw, perhaps they were smoking bananas.  MOUSES!

Nerissa's Life lives on

Er-hmm...  Hi there everybody.  Seville here.  Nissy's brother, Seville.

Sorry I couldn't get here sooner.  I really didn't mean to ignore everyone.  It's just that writing this post is really hard. Probably the hardest thing I've ever had to do.  The hardest post I've ever written.

Of course, this is the first blog post I've ever written.  That didn't help.  The fact that Peep #1 locked me out of Nissy's office didn't help, either, but those aren't the reasons why writing this is so difficult. What makes it difficult is what I need to to tell you all.

In the wee hours of Thursday morning, my brother Nerissa succumbed to his medical condition.  His little body just couldn't take it any more.

If you're a regular reader of Nissy's blog, and I'm sure that most of you are, you already know that Nissy had been feeling poorly for quite some time.  He had lost a lot of weight and underwent a battery of tests for all the usual causes.  At first the doctors thought he might have had Hyperthyroidism as certain numbers from the tests were a tad high but when the meds for Hyperthyroidism didn't help, the doctor delved deeper.

Eventually, Nissy was diagnosed with Exocrine Pancreatic Insufficiency.  Basically, his body could no longer produce the enzymes necessary to digest his food.  Without proper digestion, he couldn't take in the nutrients needed for good health.  That's why he was losing weight.

Exocrine Pancreatic Insufficiency is pretty rare in cats, I've heard, but the peep did some reading and learned that it's maybe not so rare as some believe.  She read somewhere that it often goes undiagnosed.  That would affect the stats, I think.

After diagnosis, Nissy was put on meds right away but the thing is, the meds were gross.  Peep #1 had to put this powder in Nissy's food about twenty minutes before he ate it.  The powder started to digest his food for him but partially digested food is...  well...  well it's gross.  No other way to describe it.  No wonder Niss flatly refused to eat the stuff.

Here in Canada, the meds Nissy needed aren't available in tablet form.  At least, they're not available for cats.  There are similar pills for peeps so that's what Nissy ended up taking.  I guess the pharmaceutical companies realise that people with this medical condition won't eat that partially digested slop they think is acceptable for cats.  Guess a certain pharmaceutical company doesn't realise that we cats can recognise slop when we see it.  And recognise that it's gross, too. MOUSES!

If Nissy were writing this blog post, he would have said MOUSES! right there so I'm going to say MOUSES! too.  In fact, I'm going to make MOUSES! a regular part of my vocabulary. MOUSES!

But between my peeps and my doctor and some really, really good friends, the plan was to get Nissy the proper meds he needed in tablet form.  They make them in the United States of America, you see.  Perhaps American kitties have more highly refined palettes or perhaps the companies there making the meds that Nissy needed are smarter and have a better understanding of cats.  Either theory is possible.

If I sound a little bitter, I guess it's because I am.  The meds Nissy needed SHOULD have been easily accessible here in Canada, in tablet form.  Someone really dropped the ball on that one. MOUSES!

But we had all hoped that Niss would be able to pull through.  Between getting the proper meds and putting him on a homemade chicken broth diet, the peeps were hoping to nurse him through his medical crisis and back to health.  He was really enjoying the broth and had even started to eat a little of the chicken, too.  Of course, the rest of us helped him out with the eating of that chicken whenever possible.  We're all a very helpful bunch, you see.

I miss Nissy.  He was my brother and I loved him a lot.  He was only twelve-years-old.  He should still be here with us.  MOUSES!

Peep #1 says that Nissy is up in Heaven now with his mama, Madison, and his dad, Jacob.  Also his brothers Calista, Desdemona and Alexander, his sisters Beatrice and Josephine and his nephews Aristotle and Baby.  And his aunties Primrose, Snowdrop and Blossom, too.  She says that he'll be happily romping through vast nip fields, chasing butterflies.  And she says that one day, we'll all see him again and be able to romp through those same nip fields, too.

But Spring has finally arrived here in Nova Scotia and soon the primroses will be in full bloom. Nissy loved posing amongst the primroses.  He would have liked to have posed with those primroses one more time.  I hope they have primroses in Heaven.  If so, he'll be able to enjoy them up there.

Nerissa was a really special cat and simply must be remembered.  Remembered forever.  I'm going to do my part by continuing his blog.  Nerissa's Life will live on.  Peep #1 says that, as the oldest remaining brother, the blog is my inheritance.  It's my duty to carry on.

Peep #1 is going to make a little garden in memory of Nissy.  She's going to plant some primroses in there, I think. It's going to be in the part of the garden where Nissy used to like to spend time with her, supervising.

I'm hoping the peep will plant some nip, too.  Nissy loved his nip.  Some even called him a nip head and truth be told, he was.  Nothing wrong with stating the obvious, I think.  MOUSES!

The lovely and very talented Ann Adamus of the Zoolatry blog has created the beautiful Nerissa Forever badge in honour of Nissy.  Nissy with his primroses...  he'll love that.

And if anyone else would like to do a little something in honour of Nissy's memory, I have three suggestions.

Firstly, please use the word MOUSES! as often as possible.  Nissy really wanted to get his most popular invented word into all the major dictionaries but that never happened.  Perhaps we can get it added posthumously.

Secondly, please let the Prime Minister of Canada know that although Nerissa will no longer be able to accept a Senate appointment, I am able and willing to accept it for him.  And please feel free to mention to the Prime Minister that if he doesn't appoint me to the Senate, I just may run against him for Prime Minister in the fall elections.  I may not be quite as cute as Nissy but I'm still a heck of a lot cuter than he!  MOUSES!

Should that be he?  Or him?  No, he.  *sighs*  Nissy would know that.  Nissy was the best with stuff like that.

But thirdly and perhaps most importantly, I want to tell you about an organization called TeamTNR.  I've taken the following directly from their website...

"TeamTNR is an all volunteer, non-profit, charitable society formed in 2005 to minimize animal suffering in Annapolis County, Nova Scotia by controlling cat overpopulation through the spaying/neutering of as many cats as possible.  So far, we have had nearly 1800 cats spayed/neutered through our program.  With nearly two thirds being female, this likely has prevented an astounding amount of unwanted kittens being born as an unspayed female, her mate and their offspring can produce as many as 2000 cats in four years.  Also, we have a managed feral cat colony and a low cost, spay/neuter program."

TeamTNR is an extremely worthwhile cause and very dear and near to Nissy's heart.  Nissy was, as you know, a feral kitty himself.  Had he not found our peeps when he did, he might very well have found himself in need of TeamTNR and all the wonderful work that they do.

So if you're considering making a donation to a worthy cause in Nissy's memory, please consider making that donation to TeamTNR.  They, in turn, will then help Nova Scotian kitties in need.  I know that Nissy would appreciate that, for sure.  I know it from the bottom of my heart.

I don't think I can write much more than this for my first blog post.  Not sure it's long enough for Nissy's standards but, I think, given that this is my first post and I'm still learning the ropes so to speak, Nissy would forgive me if it's not quite up to snuff.

Also, I'm not exactly sure what snuff is or how you get up to it.  MOUSES!

I will be back on Sunday.  Going to do my best to keep up with Nissy's posting schedule.

Dear Brother Nissy...  I miss you.  I love you.  I always will.  Until we meet again.

in the news

HOLY FLYIN' FRYIN' PANS!  Is that a robin I see?  Out there in the garden?  With snow still on the ground? MOUSES!

Unfortunately, the robins are out and about, here in Nova Scotia.  I feel really sorry for the little guys 'cause they must be starvin', for sure.  We still have a couple of feet of snow and there isn't a worm to be found.  With all this wonky winter weather most likely caused by global warming, the early bird can no longer get his or her worm.  MOUSES!

But speakin' of things that fly, did you hear 'bout the new Amazon drones bein' tested right here in Canada?  Well not right here at my house or anythin' like that.  In fact, they're testin' them on the other coast but up here in Canada, nonetheless.  MOUSES!

One day in the not-too-distant future, we'll be able to order somethin' from Amazon and have it delivered right to our doorstep in thirty minutes or less.  That's right, they're sayin' that small items will be flown in by drone right to your kitty condo door.  Talk about customer service!  We're livin' in the future, for sure.

You know, you expect stuff like that in science fiction and Harry Potter but in reality?  Never thought I'd see the day.  Imagine bein' able to order up a copy of Rescued: The Stories of 12 Cats, Through Their Eyes and with a little click here and a little click there, find that very same book sittin' on your doorstep, thirty minutes later.  Wow.  Currently, we have to wait at least twenty-four hours.

And speakin' of Rescued:  The Stories of 12 Cats, Through Their Eyes, do you have your copy as of yet?

But back to the drones.  I'm wonderin' if the peeps runnin' Amazon might be interested in usin' eggbeater teleportation technology with their new endeavour.  It, too, is the technology of the future, for sure.  MOUSES!

You know, I'm just itchin' to go on another adventure.  Itchin' and itchin' and ITCHIN'!  What's that, Peepers?  No, I do not have fleas.  It's a different kind of itchin', you see.  MOUSES!

Don't tell the peep but word on the street is that Silver and Savvy and I have an upcoming adventure up our sleeves.  Yup, tucked right up there in our sleeves.  We're plannin' somethin' super big, for sure.

Note to self:  Buy a cat-sized sweater or somethin' with sleeves.  MOUSES!

And did you hear about my birthday?  I'M GONNA BE TWELVE.  It's true, exactly one week from today, I'll be turnin' the big one-two.  I'm hopin' they'll be some nip.

Of course, with my recently diagnosed medical condition, things here have been a little touch and go.  For a while there, the peeps were wonderin' if I'd make it to my birthday.  At my weigh-in last night, it was discovered that I've lost a little more weight and Peep #1 says I can't afford to lose even one more ounce.  But she received some good news today.  There's nothin' definite or anythin' but suffice it to say, there's a glimmer of hope shinin' in.  Things are lookin' up, I do believe.

One of the problems at paw has been gettin' an appropriate medication for my condition.  There's stuff available in the United States which is bein' used quite successfully, too, but a kitty can't get his paws on it up here in Canada.  The Canadian government can be a real stickler 'bout these things, you see. Not fair, really.  Canadian kitties need medicine, too!

This is just one more reason why I, Nerissa the Cat, should be appointed to the Canadian Senate.  Once appointed, I'll make sure that appropriate rules and regulations are kept but that life-saving medicines are available to all.  MOUSES!

#Niss4Senate - Tell the Prime Minister, today!  Seriously.  Tweet him, call him up, write him a letter...  He'll love hearin' from you, for sure.

And speakin' of the Senate.  Lots of Senate-related stuff is currently in the news but don't you worry, my friends.  I, Nerissa the Cat, am watchin' like a hawk and compiling the facts.  I'll have things to report, for sure.  In fact, I'm feelin' a cheese-snackin' induced dream comin' on and I wouldn't be at all surprised to find myself bein' called in by the Royal Canadian Mouseland Police.

And speakin' of cheese, there's more good news!  Now that the peep understands exactly how my medicine works, I might be able to indulge in a little snackin'.  Not too much but just a little somethin' to make my life worth livin', you know?  Just a little nibble or two.

There's just one thing more I feel the need to say.  A little reminder of sorts.  Bear with me, if you will.

You ever notice how some peeps wanna be right 'bout stuff at all costs?  That's right, they don't care what the cost as long as they're right.  Basically, they're investin' in the wrong stuff and investin' in the wrong stuff almost always proves to be costly.  MOUSES!

Sometimes, peeps come up with a plan.  The plan makes sense and the plan's goal, off on the horizon, is a good goal, for sure.  So those peeps set their eyes on that goal, forging ahead.

But then somewhere along the way, they encounter an obstacle or two and that path that was paved with only the best of intentions, becomes a little rocky.  The path slowly bends and a corner is cut here and another is cut there.  The goal is still off on the horizon and still very much in view and yet somehow, its importance becomes secondary to somethin' else.  The peeps on the path start payin' more attention to the stones paving the path than the destination, itself.  And that path becomes their goal.

And because of all the hard work put into pavin' the path, the peeps wanna prove that pavin' it was worthwhile.  They've invested their hearts and souls into that path and its success becomes the most important thing of all and eventually, there's nothin' else in sight.

To admit that the path isn't leadin' them to where they originally wanted to be led, would be the same as admittin' defeat.

So it's important to remember that sometimes things just don't work out as planned.  Even with the best of intentions, things can fail.  And when somethin' fails, there's nothin' wrong with admitting that failure.  In fact, admitting such things is one of the most courageous things one can ever do.

There's importance in bein' earnest.  In bein' truthful to oneself and everyone else.  Being right at all costs is not bein' earnest at all.

In other words, when things don't work out as planned, ADMIT IT.  Admit it to yourself and everyone else. Accept responsibility for whatever happened and start repairing any damages so that once more, your original goal can come back into sight.

Of course, this advice applies mainly to peeps and not to us cats 'cause cats are almost always right 'cause you know, we're cats.  It's in our nature to be right, you see.  And on the rare occasion when we might happen to be wrong, we stop whatever we're doin' and start washin' our tails, remindin' the world that we didn't go adrift at all but rather, simply changed our minds, mid-stream.  Once again I must say, MOUSES!

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

Please remember that throughout the month of April, a portion of all sales of the book Rescued: The Stories of 12 Cats, Through Their Eyes will go to the wonderful Anjellicle Cats Rescue of New York, helpin' them to help save cats' lives.  You can purchase your very own copy at your local book store or on Amazon by clicking right HERE.  You'll wanna stock up for holiday gift-giving, for sure.  PURRS.

hard landing

Sometimes you've just gotta do what you've just gotta do.  Simple as that. MOUSES!

In the wee hours of this mornin', a plane made a hard landin' at the Stanfield International Airport.  The pilots got the plane safely onto the ground and although about two dozen peeps were taken to hospital, there were no fatalities. Thank goodness for that.

But this here post isn't about the actual landin'. It's about what happened afterwards.  Let me explain.

When you have well over a hundred peeps standin' about outside in blowin' snow and sub-zero temperatures, you do what you need to do do to get 'em inside.  And when some of those peeps are in shorts or short-sleeved shirts or sandals or any combination thereof, you make darned mousin' sure that you get 'em inside, pronto.  Pronto as in right away, for sure.

Now I know, peeps flyin' into a Canadian airport in winter weather might be wise to wear somethin' a little heavier than shorts and sandals but that's besides the point.  The point is, they were out there in the snow and the cold and not properly clad.  MOUSES!

Those sun-lovin' peeps had been off somewhere warm, lovin' the sun - probably 'cause they didn't like the cold - when they returned home to be left outside in the snow.  Again I must say, MOUSES!!

Officials from the airport have stated that shortly after midnight on a Sunday, they simply don't have shuttles on paw to transport stranded passengers off the tarmac and into the warmth and safety of the airport.  MOUSES!!!

Okay.  Fine.  There were no shuttle buses.  But are they tellin' us there was no way to get those peeps inside?  Really?  REALLY?

I'm findin' that somewhat difficult to believe.

Maybe the traditional methods of peep transportation weren't available but there were other means, I am sure.  Just needed someone to show some gumption, that's all.

Sometimes peeps can't see the forest for the trees.  It's a fact.  Some peeps get so wrapped up in the little details that they totally miss the big picture.  You know, like that big picture of all those short-sleeved shirt wearin' peeps shiverin' out there in the cold?  Yeah, that would be the big picture, for sure.

So there weren't any shuttle buses.  So what?  I mean, really, SO WHAT?  There were cars.  There were cars in the parkin' lot.  There's at least one car rental place at the airport so there were rental cars, too.  Someone had to have access to the keys.  There might even have been some taxis. And what about shuttle buses belongin' to the nearby hotels?  And I imagine that there would even be peeps capable of drivin' all those cars, too.

You probably do need to have special qualifications to drive around on the runway but do you know what?  In times of emergency, you sometimes need to break a rule or two.  You just do.  MOUSES!

Like I said about the trees in the forest...  If you get all caught up in the little details of those trees and rules and regulations and whatnot, you miss the fact that there's a big ol' forest standin' out there. MOUSES!

Had I been me runnin' that ol' airport, I would have shown some gumption, for sure.  I would have found every available vehicle I could find.  Even my own, if necessary.  Then I would have pulled in security officers 'cause it is an international airport so there must be security around even in the wee hours of the mornin'.  And I would have given those security officers the keys to those cars.  Then I would have had them all led out by a baggage cart handler 'cause they know their way around the runways and there must have been at least one around since there were planes landin', proven by the fact that one of 'em did. He or she could have led the cars out to the plane, picked up the passengers in twos and threes and brought 'em all inside where it was warm.

You know somethin'?  Some of the passengers might even have been able to ride on the baggage cart itself.  Not the safest means of transportation, I imagine, but perhaps safer than standin' outside in the blowin' snow while wearin' sandals and shorts.  MOUSES!

Oh sure, there would have been questions to answer afterwards and a few eyebrows would have raised but those peeps would have been safe and warm inside and questions could and would be handled later.

Decisions needin' to be made aren't always as hard to make as they appear and if you're doin' what will be right for the big picture, you'll land on your paws, for sure.  Like I said before, sometimes you've just gotta do what you've just gotta do.

Peeps shouldn't be be too quick to confuse the words can't and won't.  They do actually have two different meanings.  Sometimes, things that shouldn't be done under normal circumstances actually can be done in cases of emergency.  Gumption is all that's required.

So the passengers were only out in the cold for fifty minutes.  Bet those were some of the longest fifty minutes of their lives.

And what if it had been longer?  It could have been.  Could have been even colder, too.  Would airport officials have allowed 'em to stand out there for two or three hours and still have said there were no shuttles available?  MOUSES!

You know what they say.  They say, stupid is as stupid does.  Do you know what I say?  I say, don't do what Stupid does 'cause, you know, HE'S KINDA STUPID!

Stop frettin' on those teeny-tiny details, no matter how complicated they seem, and do what you need to do to make the bigger picture a better thing.  To make it a picture worthy of lookin' at.  And for goodness sakes, get those shiverin' peeps out of that there cold!  MOUSES!

I absolutely abhor that expression 'bout thinkin' outside of the box 'cause as we all know, boxes are the best thing since sliced bread - maybe even better - and no one should ever be told to get out of one just to think BUT there is an argument here to be made 'bout thinkin' usin' a little creativity and ingenuity, for sure.  MOUSES!

They're just lucky that my Peep #1 wasn't on board that plane 'cause she probably would have hiked her way back to the airport, no matter how far away they were.  Oh yeah, they would have tried to stop her from doin' that.  They would have said it was too dangerous and whatnot.  They might have even arrested her or somethin'.  But Peep #1 would have looked 'em straight in the eye and said, "Good.  A jail cell will be warmer than this.  MOUSES!"

Sometimes when life hands you lemons, you've just gotta make some good old-fashioned lemonade and...  Scratch that.  When life hands you lemons what you really ought to do is toss 'em out, grab some nip and kick back with an extra-strong niptini, for sure.

The world would be a better place if there were more cats in charge and runnin' things, I think.  We cats know how to deal with lemons.  When a curve ball comes our way, we adjust.  We know how to show a little gumption. Initiative and resourcefulness could be our middle names!  We know how to climb those trees, givin' us a good view of the forest in its entirety and when jumpin' down from said trees, we know how to land softly on our paws, for sure.  And we know to never, ever, follow the one who goes by the name of Stupid.  We know how to make the world a better place.

Yup, there should be more cats in higher places, for sure.  Another reason why, my friends, my appointment to the Canadian Senate is long overdue.  #Niss4Senate!!!  Tell the Prime Minister, today.  And you might wanna mention it to the airport authorities, as well.  MOUSES!

the nissmobile!

Nerissa the Cat reportin' from Nova Scotia.  Let me remind you that you heard it here first, folks.... WE HAVE SNOW.

What's that Peepers? You say I can't tell my readers they heard 'bout Winter Storm Juno here first, 'cause Winter Storm Juno is pretty much over? But it's still snowin' out outside.  I can see the white stuff comin' down, right now.  All the schools are cancelled, too. Surely...  Really? Awww...  MOUSES!

FINE.  So peeps didn't hear 'bout Winter Storm Juno from me first and they probably all already knew that we had snow but I'm bettin' no one knew 'bout the other stuff I'm bloggin' about today and as luck would have it, it's storm-related, for sure.

First of all, let me tell you 'bout the new doggy catwalk.

All mornin' long, I've been watchin' the dogs of the neighbourhood struttin' their stuff down the catwalk, also known as the street in front of my house.  These doggies have been sportin' all sorts of winter garb.  The 2015 collection includes everythin' from dressy jackets for a night on the town to more practical, cold-weather apparel such as the lovely fleece-lined grey jacket worn by the friendly neighbourhood mutt.  A jacket that keeps the cold out while remainin' stylish is a fashion-must, this season, for sure.

Unfortunately, every fashion show has a gate-crasher or two.  A husky was seen streakin' down the catwalk in his birthday suit.  That's right, folks, we had a naked Husky wearin' nothin' but the fur God gave him.

Thankfully the peeps accompanying him were not naked, too.  MOUSES!

Also spotted on the road, this week, was a snowmobile.  That's right foks, yesterday afternoon I was witness to a snowmobile racin' down the road in front of my house.  The very same road that is also doublin' as a catwalk for the first doggy fashion show of the season.

Truth be told, I'm not sure if snowmobiles are allowed on the road.  I don't even know if they're licenced but there it was, drivin' in all its glory.  That snowmobile sped down my street not once but twice, yesterday afternoon.  Not sure what the hurry was.  Everythin' was closed.  Nothin' was goin' on.  After all, we were in the middle of blizzard 'round here.  MOUSES!

But seein' that ol' snowmobile gave me an idea...

The night before, I  had fallen asleep listenin' to the news.  I know, not a good idea for me to do.  Previously, doin' stuff like that has led to cheese-snackin' induced dreams involvin' the Royal Canadian Mouseland Police but when I fell asleep Monday night, I had not snacked upon any cheese.  There were no dreams of sugarplum mice for me.

Anywho...  as I drifted off to sleep, I was listenin' to a reporter drivin' around New York City, talkin' about how no one was allowed to be drivin' around the city.  You know, the traffic ban and whatnot.  I was a little confused on account of his drivin' around in a car durin' the traffic ban and... well..  bein' traffic.  I assumed some sort of exception had been made for the press or somethin'.  I was hopin' there had been an exception made for the press 'cause there's nothin' worse than endin' up on the wrong side of the news when you're supposed to be reportin' it.  Kind of embarrassin' to be pulled over for bein' in violation of a traffic ban while you're busy reporting 'bout there bein' a traffic ban in the first place, if you know what I mean.  MOUSES!

So the reporter drivin' around durin' the traffic ban was still weighin' heavily on my mind.  Weighin' heavily on my mind like a seventeen pound marmie brother lyin' on my favourite nip mouse and refusin' to get off it.  And then I saw the snowmobile and that's when I thought...

That's when I thought, I need one of those!

And always bein' full of good ideas, I had another thought.

And I'll call it...  the Nissmobile!!!

The Nissmobile will allow me to get out and about with my fellow cats, reportin' on the news of the day.  With a Nissmobile, I can be right there, askin' the man on the street for his opinions and thoughts on important stuff like science, education, politics and the availability and access of nip to all cats, everywhere.

And when there's a storm like this Juno character, with my Nissmobile, a little inclement weather won't stop me.  I'll be out there with all the other reporters, zippin' about the streets.  Zippin' about durin' the traffic bans while in my Nissmobile!

Once the snow and ice are all gone, I'll get the peep to attach some wheels to the Nissmobile, allowin' for four-season travel.

And the Nissmobile sure will come in handy durin' my publicity campaign to get the Prime Minister of Canada to appoint me to the Senate.  I, Nerissa the Cat, wanna be Canada's first feline Senator, for sure.

I'll be able to hop into my Nissmobile and travel to all four corners of Nova Scotia, askin' the peeps I wanna represent, what is most important to them because I, Nerissa the Cat, know and understand the importance of the Senate and the duties of Senators.  I understand that Canadian Senators represent the people from the provinces in which they reside and not the politicians who appoint them.  Oh my gosh, I even know in which province I reside.  Believe it or not, not every Senator has.  MOUSES!

So if you happen to be in Nova Scotia this year and you see a cute little sterling silver - some say platinum - tabby cat zippin' about on the streets, you can rest assured that that tabby cat is me.  Me, Nerissa the Cat. Nerissa the Cat in my Nissmobile.

Whether I'm reportin' the news or spreadin' the word 'bout my campaign for a Senate appointment, there will be one thing you can count on above all else.  I, Nerissa the Cat will be the cutest reporter/politician on the street. After all, only the cutest will be allowed to drive the Nissmobile,

And you'll hear me hollarin' far and wide...  #Niss4Senate - Tell the PM, today.  Please?

put 'em to better use

Christmas and New Year's are long gone, now.  Even Little Christmas has passed. The holidays are all over for another year and it's time to get back to business, for sure.

This is a new year and it's bringin' a lot of changes to my house.  There are so many things I need to do.

For starters, I need to get workin' on my campaign for the Senate.  I have some super great ideas to implement.  I have some of the best ideas the Senate has heard of or seen in a very long time. Now all I've gotta do is get myself appointed.  MOUSES!

And speakin' of the Senate and campaigns and whatnot, I should just clarify somethin'.  Here in Canada, Senators are not elected.  They're appointed by the Prime Minister.  Well technically, they're appointed by the Governor General after bein' recommended by the Prime Minister. Recommended, summoned, whatever...  So I don't need to win an election.  I just need to be recommended.

But I still need to mount a campaign of sorts.  Not a campaign for an election but rather, a campaign to help the Prime Minister see the wisdom of appointin' me, Nerissa the Cat, to the Canadian Senate.  MOUSES!

If you wanna help with this here campaign of mine, please feel free to contact the Prime Minister of Canada and let him know what you think.  Feel free to tweet him, give him a call or even send him a letter.

If you're tweetin', please remember to include the hashtag #Niss4Senate.   I appear to be the only one usin' this hashtag at the mo.  I'm pretty sure it will be more effective once it starts trendin' but I kinda think that in order for it to trend, there has to be more than just me usin' it.  You know?

And if you should choose to go the snail mail route, I just wanna say that this form of mail doesn't really travel at the speed of snails.  It's more like that of a turtle, I should think.  Turtles, tortoises, whatever...  Does anyone really know the difference?  Does anyone really care?  Probably the turtles and tortoises do but what about the rabbits and hares?

I'm bettin' that you're all wonderin' what ideas I intend to bring forth once appointed to the Senate.  I have a list of stuff.  A to-do list, of sorts.  Gonna reveal those things in future posts right here on Nerissa's Life.  As loyal readers of my blog, you'll be the very first to know.  Pretty exciting, for sure.

Are you wonderin' what other things I have in store for the new year?  Well...

Well I'm gonna start crackin' the whip with the peeps.  They've been slackin'.  Slackin' BIG time. Time for me to put a stop to their ridiculous behavior.

Now that the hustle and bustle of the holidays is over, the peeps need to start puttin' their paws to better use.  Better use than what they were doin' with their paws before the holidays, for sure.


There was a lot of baking going on at my house in the weeks prior to Christmas and do you know what? Not a single one of those recipes used nip as a main ingredient.  Not a single one.  MOUSES!

That kind of behaviour has gotta stop.  If Peep #1 wants to bake, at least half of the recipes she uses should include nip.  I'm thinkin' that's more than fair. I mean, we cats outnumber the peeps in this house so technically, more than half the recipes should include the nip but I'm tryin' to go easy on the peep... FOR NOW.  We can always renegotiate nip percentages, next year.

Secondly, there has been way too much knittin' goin' on.  That's gonna have to stop.

To be fair, much of the knittin' prior to the holidays was elfin' work being done for Santa and those knitted biff bags and mice were stuffed with nip so, of course, knittin' of that sort may continue as much as desired.  Any kind of knittin' that includes nip is a-okay in my books.

But scarves?  And sweaters?  I don't wear scarves nor do I wear sweaters so stuff like that is just a waste of good yarn.  Plus, Peep #1 has a tendency to knit scarves usin' lacy patterns.  Oh sure, they look pretty and whatnot but do you know that you get when you try to stuff a lacy scarf with nip?  You get an empty scarf and a whole bunch of nip, lyin' on the floor.  I can attest to that from my own personal experience.

And if you try to play with said lacy scarf, you get scolded.  I can attest to that, too.  Yup, I can attest to that, for sure.  MOUSES!

Now if the peep starts knittin' comfy blankies, we can talk.  Especially if those blankies are stuffed with the nip.

Of  course, my sister Mason made a New Year's Resolution to learn how to knit, this year.  Well technically, I made that resolution for her but it's still a resolution and it's still for the new year so it still counts.  Mason can knit all she likes.  I have faith that she will put her newly acquired knittin' skills to good use.  I have faith that whatever Mason knits will include the nip.  MOUSES!

The peep needs to start puttin' her paws to better use.  I'm thinkin'...  chin tickles, behind-the-ear scritches and tummy rubs.  And that's just for starters.

With the new year we have new episodes of Murdoch Mysteries.  And Downton Abbey is back on PBS.  Gotta love shows like those 'cause they provide quality cuddlin' time with the peeps.  Nothin' like spendin' a few hours with your peeps while they tickle your chin and rub your tummy.  That's gotta be one of the best ways to spend an evenin', for sure.

I suppose I shouldn't monopolise all the peep's time, though.  Peep #1 does need to get back to workin' on her own writing.  She'll never be as prolific a writer as I but still, she needs at least a few hours of computer time a week if she's ever gonna finish that book of hers.

And she needs to take the Christmas tree down, too.  Like I said, the holidays are over now for the year but the Christmas tree in the livin' room is still up.  We cats have been tryin' to help by knockin' down some of the breakable rollables every now and then. Every day we knock down a few more but the peep, bein' a peep, keeps putting 'em back up.  What a peep.

The Christmas tree went up late last year so I'm bettin' it will come down late, too.  I wonder if the peep will get it down by Valentine's Day.  Valentine's Day, I can handle but it had better be down by Easter.  Easter is just way too late.  MOUSES!

censored!

Hey there, you ol' Nosey-Neighbour-Cat, I'll shake your paw but I've only got one thing to say to you and that's, GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!

Okay, that never actually happened.

Now don't get me wrong, Nosey-Neighbour-Cat was in my house.  Oh yeah, he was in my house, for sure.  He was hangin' around an awful lot and snuck in when none of us cats were lookin'.  Then he went out last Wednesday night and we cats all breathed a collective sigh of relief 'cause to tell you the truth, none of us actually like him.  But he doesn't like us, either, so it all evens out, I suppose.

Then late Friday afternoon, Peep #1 went into the garage lookin' for a plant pot.  She found a pot, all right, but do you know what else she found?  She found that darned cat!  He must have been in there for over a day 'cause the last time the peep had had the garage door open was on Thursday mornin' when she was puttin' the garbage out for collection.  She hadn't realised he had snuck in when she wasn't lookin'.  Oh yeah, he's a super sneaky character is that Nosey-Neighbour-Cat. Super sneaky, for sure.  MOUSES!

Anywho...  Peep #1 felt sorry for Nosey-Neighbour-Cat on account of his havin' been locked in our garage for so long and she felt kind of guilty, too, as she had been the one to accidentally lock him in there.  So when he asked to come back into my house, she went and opened the window.  Again I must say...  MOUSES!

Well that happened, Friday.  Today is Sunday and today is the day he finally left.  Got my paws crossed that he'll go to his own house, eat his own food, breath his own air, use his own litter box and pester his own peeps.  Got my paws crossed but truth be told, it might just be wishful thinkin' on my part.  Once more I must say...  MOUSES!

Now you're all probably wonderin' why I didn't say somethin' to that ol' Nosey-Neighbour-Cat before this mornin'.  You're probably wonderin' why I didn't tell him to get the heck back to his own house and stay there.  Believe you me, I thought about it.  I thought about it long and hard but then I thought better of it and held my tongue.

You ever hear of the expression, the cat's got your tongue?  Well, I'm a cat and I was holdin' my own tongue on account of knowin' that I shouldn't just blurt out whatever was on my mind without thinkin' about the ramifications of blurtin' without thinkin' because I'm a better cat than that. MOUSES!

Durin' the last day and a half, the rest of my fur-fam had been givin' Nosey-Neighbour-Cat a pretty hard time.  There wasn't any fighting.  No fur flew or anythin' like that.  But my sibs were actin' pretty rudely towards him, for sure.  They ostracised him.

No, they didn't turn him into an ostrich.  They didn't even call him an ostrich.  They didn't really call him any names at all.  They just ignored him.

That's right, my fur-fam ignored Nosey-Neighbour-Cat and they did so really rudely.  It's definitely possibly to ignore someone politely but that is not what my fur-fam did.  Not what they did at all.

My fur-fam went out of their way to let Nosey-Neighbour-Cat know he was bein' ignored.  He must have felt so unwelcome, which, to be honest, he was but still...  I'm thinkin' his feelings must have been smartin', for sure.  Yeah, it was pretty rude.

Nosey-Neighbour-Cat camped out on top of the kitchen cupboards and the refrigerator for a whole day and a half, only coming down for meals and group photos.  Oh yeah, there were no group photos taken.  MOUSES!

Okay, he came down to eat and use the litter box.  The peeps didn't actually feed him 'cause they were seriously hopin' he'd get the hint and head on back to his own house with his own peeps but Nosey-Neighbour-Cat has a way of helpin' himself.  He even tore into an unopened bag of kibble.  Could you believe it?  He didn't like what the peep had left in our snackin' bowls and wanted somethin' else so he tore right into the bag and, as I said, helped himself.  He also ate soft food from our plates and, I believe, knocked a tin off the counter, at one point, to get at the fanciest of the feasts.  Again I must say...  MOUSES!

The rest of my fur-fam were behavin' like cliquey teenage girls in a high school cafeteria.  You know, the ones featured on so many movies 'bout high school cafeterias.  They were sittin' everywhere but where Nosey-Neighbour-Cat was sittin'.  Makin' him feel like he didn't have a friend in the world.  Of course, at my house, he really doesn't have any friends but he always had his own house to go to.  Over there, they love him.  Why he wants to hang out with us is one of the great unanswered mysteries of the century.  Well that and who let the dogs out but I've pretty much given up on the findin' the answer 'bout those dogs.  Once more I must say...  MOUSES!

I seriously considered join' my fur-fam in the ostracisation of Nosey-Neighbour-Cat.  I thought, everyone else is doin' it so why shouldn't I join in on the fun, too?

Then I thought better.  Partly 'cause even those it might be fun for the ostracisers, for the ostracisee, fun is definitely missin' from the equation.

But my main reason for not participatin' in the ostracisation of the most nosey cat in the neighbourhood, EVER, was that I realised that I was a better cat than that.  I realised that this was my moment to shine.  To rise above the general fray and be a shining example for mancats, everywhere.

Also, it occurred to me that this whole ostracising business could very well be some sort of test bein' given to me by the universe.  A test to see if I, Nerissa the Cat, really am qualified to be appointed to the Senate of Canada.  To see if I, Nerissa the Cat, should be representin' the Province of Nova Scotia in the Canadian Senate.

Representin' Nova Scotia in the Senate would be a very prestigious honour.  Although a political position, there is some diplomacy involved.  And politeness, too.  Nothin' wrong with a little politeness.  Politeness can go a long way, for sure.

You ever hear that ol' expression 'bout catchin' more flies with honey than vinegar?  Well, it's true. Vinegar won't catch you a fly at all.  Not that anyone actually wants to go out catchin' flies - I'm more inclined to swat them away, myself - but I'm sure you get my point.

It occurred to me that when I'm appointed to the Senate of Canada, I'm gonna have to be somewhat diplomatic 'bout certain things.  It also occurred to me that as practise makes perfect, I should start practicin' the art of diplomacy on Nosey-Neighbour-Cat.  No one ever said this bein' a Senator stuff was gonna be easy!

So I refrained from the ostracisation of that nosey neighbourin' cat of mine.  At one point, I even extended him a paw when he passed me while jumpin' down from the cupboards.

Several times over the last day and half, I was tempted to give him a piece of my mind.  To tell him to, you know, get out of my house and go back from whence he came.  But instead of just blurtin' out whatever I was thinkin', I censored myself.  That's right, I was censored!  I held my tongue like a real mancat does and instead, offered up a smile with merely the suggestion of the fact that his peeps were probably missin' him and he might wanna go home to let 'em know he was okay.

I kept thinkin' of the honey and vinegar thing and remindin' myself that blurtin' without thinkin' usually comes back to bite you in tail when you're least expectin' it.  I also reminded myself that bites to tail are extremely painful, at best.

Now today, my brothers and sisters are snickerin' behind my back 'cause I wouldn't join in on their fun but I pointed out to them that firstly, by bein' polite, I managed to get that ol' Nosey-Neighbour-Cat to leave our house, this mornin'.  Their tactics were gettin' them nowhere.  They were gettin' Nosey-Neighbour-Cat to go nowhere, too.

I also reminded my fur-fam that I need to look out for my own political career. I really want that appointment to the Senate and if I'm gonna get it, I've gotta show Canadians that I can be a responsible politician and behave with the necessary decorum.  I need to be polite.  I need to be diplomatic.  I need to behave with maturity.  I need to behave, appropriately.   I mean...  It's not like I wanna run for Prime Minister or anythin'.  MOUSES!

and in other news...

I threw up.  Yeah, I did. MOUSES!

I don't do a lot of horkin' blog posts.  In fact, this might be my very first one.  Thing is, I don't do a lot of horkin' so if I were relyin' upon horkin' incidents to induce the writing of blog posts, I wouldn't be writin' many posts on my blog.

Now if my Aunties Primrose or Blossom were the authors of Nerissa's Life, it would be an entirely different story. Those two have been horkin' on a regular basis for seventeen years.  MOUSES!

But my aunties are not the authors of this here blog.  I, Nerissa the Cat, am the sole author of Nerissa's Life.  I write all my own stuff.

Dare I say it?   Yeah, why not?  MOUSES!

I suppose the big news wasn't really that I threw up, though.  The big news was where and when I did it.  Let me explain...

The other night, I insisted upon sleepin' in my office.  I don't do that a lot but the other night, I was determined.   I begged and I begged and I begged and finally, Peep #1 relented.  I was in.  But why should I have to beg to sleep in my office?  It is my office.  Surely I have a right to sleep in it. Again I must say, MOUSES!

Actually, sleepin' in my office is not recommended on account of there bein' no litter box in there.   What's more, once the door is closed, access to the kitchen is lost which means, no snacks.  I do enjoy a midnight snack but figured I could forgo late-night snackin' on this one occasion.

Anywho...  sometime durin' the night, my tummy felt a little queasy and decided to act up like an actin' troupe doin' improvisational juggling gymnastics and you guessed it...  I threw up.

By mornin', I was feelin' fine.  I managed to enjoy my regular breakfast and perform my ritual mornin' garden inspection all before headin' back into my office to check my mail, visit with pals on Twitter and Facebook and finally, do a little work on my blog.

That was when Peep #1 called out to me sayin', "Nissy, I need to check my e-mail before you start blogging."   She sat down at my desk, swung her legs around the chair and emitted a loud cry. "Ewww!" could be heard throughout the land.  Did you hear it? Yeah, I'm bettin' you did.  MOUSES!

I looked at the peep.  The peep looked at me.  "Yeah, I threw up last night, Peepers.  Did I forget to mention that?" I asked, scratchin' behind my ear.  "Why did you go and put your rear paw in it?  You should learn to be more careful," I explained.

I shall not repeat the dialogue which ensued for fear of my blog bein' beeped out of existence by the foul language police.  MOUSES!

And in other news...  I'm past 3700 likes on my Facebook page now.  Ever so excited 'bout that. I'm really hopin' to make it to 5000 by Christmas.  I wonder if I could ask for likes when I write to Santa.  Hmmm...  I wonder if he can arrange that.  Probably.  Santa can arrange most things when he puts his mind to it.

And I have over 4000 pals on Twitter.  That's pretty excitin'.  Perhaps I should ask Santa to help me with that, as well.  Help me reach 5000.  I'll have to think about that.

Of course, I'm still hopin' for a Senate appointment.  Feel free to mention that fact to Prime Minister Stephen Harper if you're ever talkin' or tweetin' with him.  I'm sure he'd appreciate the reminder. #Niss4Senate for sure!

Oh, and nosey-neighbour-cat's sister is headin' off to law school, today.  That's a good thing, I think. If I ever get that Senate appointment, I might find myself in need of a lawyer.  It seems that a lot of 'em, do.

And speakin' of politics, I hear that some peeps at Toronto City Hall are gettin' into the discussion 'bout changin' the wordin' of our National Anthem.  Some peeps don't like the fact that it uses the word, "sons," thereby excludin' all the daughters.  What about the cats?

I asked Peep #1 what she thought about this.  As one of those daughters, I figured she'd have an opinion about it but I was wrong.  Peep #1 said, "Frankly, my dear Nissy, I don't give a mouse." Scratch that.  Actually, she just said she couldn't care less as she had bigger fish to fry.

I said in reply, "Fish?  Really?  You're fryin' fish?  Pass a plate on over to me, would ya?"  I never did get any of that fish.  MOUSES!

And the peep planted more plumeria seed.  Guess she did that instead of fryin' the fish.

But will the woman never learn?  Rockies are wreakin' havoc on the plumies she has and she goes and plants more seed.  Honestly, I've gotta wonder 'bout my peep.

On the other paw, I'm hard at work developin' a new feature for my blog. That's right, I have somethin' new in the works.  Unfortunately, there's somethin' else in those works, pluggin' them up.

You see, I'm havin' a tough time figurin' out how to make the technical stuff for this feature work.  I sure could do with some better IT support, you know? Peep #1 is pretty much useless and, I'm afraid, she's all I've got.  MOUSES!

Well that's all the news for today.  I think I've pretty much covered everything.  Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go see if the peep ever caught any of those bigger fish and if so, I'm gonna get her to fry some of 'em up.  I think she can probably handle that.