ding dong

Ding dong, the witch is dead.  La la la la la....  la la la lah.

I know, I know...   I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin' ol' Peepers has really done it this time for me to be callin' her a witch.  And you know somethin', my friends?

You would be wrong.

MOUSES!

Oh, I'm sure she's done somethin', all right.  She usually has.  Even if I don't happen to know what that somethin' is that she's done, I know she's likely done it, for sure, but...

But this time...

Believe it or not...

This particular time, I'm not talking 'bout the peep.

MOUSES!

Truth be told, I'm not actually talking 'bout witches, either.  Nor goblins nor ghosties nor anythin' else Hallowe'en and spooky related.  THIS TIME, I'm talking 'bout the dingin' and the dongin' of bells.

I know, I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin' I'm talking 'bout door bells and such.

Well...

Well that would be wrong, too, I'm afraid, on account of my talking 'bout telephone bells and...

Okay, so I'm not talkin' about the bell of a phone.  I'm actually talking 'bout my weird and wonderful AND INCREDIBLY FRUSTRATING - 'cause it so often doesn't work - Internet connection.

Which is kinda connected to the phone.  Same company, at least.

MOUSES!

Yup, yup..  Uh-huh...  Yeah, I hear ya, my friends.  I KNOW our fair province was attacked by a hurricane last week AND I KNOW that's bound to play havoc with phones and Internet and things, but...

BUT MY PROBLEMS HAVE BEEN GOIN' ON FOR THE LAST SEVERAL YEARS.

Plus, immediately after the hurricane, once the power was back up and runnin', the Internet was doin' just fine.

For once.

MOUSES!

You know, the fact that my Internet connection was runnin' smoothly right after the hurricane was amazin' enough for me to consider takin' out a full-page ad.  Yup, I gave it some real consideration, for sure.

Until I found out how much one of those ads actually costs.

MOUSES!

But by Wednesday that ol' Internet was actin' up like a two-year-old in a candy store havin' a tantrum while comin' down from a sugar-induced high.  I tried callin' the company but apparently they don't take calls from us cats.

And I don't know why that is, on account of the fact that EVERYONE KNOWS WE CATS RULE THE INTERNET.

'Mongst other things.

So Peepers had to deal with 'em and she SAID it was all fixed; but there were problems yesterday as well as the day before that, and today it's barely hangin' on by a thread.  Yup, barely hangin' on by the thread of a wee kitten's whisker, it is.

I'm tellin' ya, one day...

ONE DAY I, SEVILLE THE CAT, am gonna be rulin' the world and when I am, MY Internet had better be workin' just fine or I'll cry OFF WITH THEIR HEADS as I adjust my solid gold crown.

My gosh, a gold crown really would suit my marmalade furs.

But in the meantime,  I'm just gonna sit here and sing my little song, and...

Umm...

Have a little snack.

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.

peeps

Peeps.  Peeps can be so stupid, you know?  And not just normal stupid but CRAZY stupid, for sure.

Peeps can be SO stupid...

Sounds like the start of a joke, huh.  And it would be a good joke, too, 'cept that this is no laughin' matter.  It's just...

Well...

Stupid.

MOUSES!

So the onslaught of gardenin' catalogues has begun.  Yup, first one arrived in yesterday's mail.  And bein' the kindest, sweetest, and most thoughtful kitty on Earth - not to mention modest, if I do say so myself - I settled in next to Peepers to check that ol' catalogue out.

Well NEW catalogue, actually; not old.  After all, it only arrived yesterday.  Ol' catalogue is just an expression, of sorts, of which I'm sure you were already aware.

MOUSES!

So anyway, I settled in next to ol' Peepers...

Now ol' Peepers IS old, for sure.

As old as the hills, I do believe.

MOUSES!

So anyway, I settled in next to ol' old Peepers, excited to see what the plant peeps would be offerin' in the line of new varieties of catnip next spring.  The furs on the back of my neck were tinglin'.  The excitement in the air was palpable.  My tail was a-twitchin', as were my whiskers.  I could barely contain my enthusiasm.  I could...

What?

WHAT?

WHAT?

Dahlias.  And hostas?  And other non-catnip things?

What the mousie mousin' mouses is the meanin' of this?

"LET ME SEE THAT DARNED, STUPID OL' BOOK!", I cried, grabbin' it away from the peep.  Pawin' through its pages, I found all sorts of stupid moused-up plants but not a single variety of nip.

NOT ONE.

Well!

The excited fur-raisin' electricity in the air that had had me a-buzzin' died down to a dull snore.  My dreams of growin' the latest varieties of catnip fizzled like the pop in a tin of soda left open all night.  My whiskers drooped so low they were practically touchin' the floor.  My tail was so limp, I could barely swish it back and forth with disgust.

Barely.  I said barely.  I did muster a few swishes as a warnin' to anyone watchin' that things were not right with the world.  I mean...

I mean...

I mean, HOW CAN A COMPANY CALL ITSELF A PLANT COMPANY WHEN NOT SELLIN' THE MOST WONDERFUL PLANT IN THE WORLD?

Peepers mumbled something 'bout something 'bout my not needin' more nip.

HAS THE WORLD ALL GONE MAD?

AS WELL AS THE PEEP?

Actually, methinks that particular ship sailed a long time ago.

Repulsed by what I was seein', I jumped down from the chesterfield with disgust.  I'd show her.  I'd show that Peepers a thing or two.  I'd...

And suddenly I knew exactly what to do.  My catnip plants had not yet been harvested and I happened to know for a fact that there were seeds 'mongst some of the buds.  I would collect as much seed as I could on my furs, then roll around in every bare inch of soil I could find, spreadin' the catnip seeds far and wide, leaving 'em to germinate come spring.

I'm tellin' ya, who needs plant catalogues when you have a mind as brilliant as mine?

Well, I am a cat.  Brilliance is kinda expected.

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.

when in doubt...

When in doubt, BLAME THE PEEP.

MOUSES!

Oopsie, wrong sayin'.

MOUSES!

On the other paw...

On the other paw, it actually fits.

I know, I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin', what the mouses has Peepers done NOW?  What has she done and for what must she be blamed?

Well...

Well technically, SHE hasn't done anythin', I suppose.  But therein lies the problem, you see.  Maybe she COULD have done somethin' and her lack of doin' anythin' is why I'm now blamin' her for creatin' my original complaint which could possibly have been...

Are you ready?

IT'S TOO DARN HOT.

MOUSES!

Do you peeps out there have any idea just how hot 28C is for us kitties with fur?  Do you?  DO you?

Well let me tell you somethin', my friends: it's hot.  Hot as all get out.  Hot as in TOO hot, for sure.

And bein' a Canadian kitty...

Bein' a Canadian kitty, I have the tendency to be - as most Canadians are - preoccupied with the weather and such.

It's a Canadian thing, you see.  We complain when it's too cold and then again when it gets too hot.  In fact, just last week I was complaining 'bout July bein' a little on the cool side 'round here.  Yup, I was doin' just that.  Peeps were complainin', too.  And not just my peeps, either!  Nope and no sirree.  Peeps far and wide were complainin' that the nights were downright chilly for this time of year.  Why one night, someone said somethin' about the possibility of frost!

MOUSES!

But then three days ago...

Then three days ago, the tables turned - or whatever they say - and too cold got too hot as the mercury climbed and the heat got the upper paw.

Not that thermometers use mercury now, but the sayin' still stands, I do believe.

So anyway, three days ago it got all hot and yucky and my fur started stickin' to me like my fur got all stuck on Peepers' black winter pea jacket.

You know, the jacket the dry-cleaners gave up on and told her to never bring back.

MOUSES!

Now where was I?

Oh yeah, I was gettin' to the point where I could blame Peepers for this here darned heat.  The way I see it, when it gets too cold, Peepers turns on the furnace, right?  Right.  So when it gets too hot and yucky, why can't she turn on the cold?  And I don't mean just in the house, either.  I MEAN IN ALL THE GREAT OUTDOORS!  Why can't peeps learn to regulate the weather like they try to regulate everythin' else?  WHY CAN'T PEEPS DO SOMETHIN' USEFUL FOR A CHANGE?

And if Peepers finally does get off  that lazy tail of hers and learns how to control Nova Scotia's...  Scratch that, Canada's...  Scratch that, too.  If Peepers ever does get off that lazy tail of hers and learns how to control the GLOBAL weather, I, SEVILLE THE CAT, will be in charge of determining at what temperature the global thermostat will be set.

Kinda goes without sayin'.

But in the meantime, I'm just gonna sit here in front of this fan and cool myself off for a bit.  Might even take a nap.  And when I get up...

When I get up, I'm gonna figure out for what else I can blame ol' Peepers 'cause you know what they say.  They say, when in doubt, BLAME THE PEEP.

And never a truer sayin' was said.

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.

dems the rules, bud

 

Dems the rules, bud.  Dems the rules.

"What?"

I said, DEMS THE  RULES.  I'm sorry - although actually I'm not - to tell you this, Saffy my man, but dems the rules in this here house.

"Why?"

'Cause they are, is why.

"Why?"

'Cause they are.  MOUSES!

"But why?"

'Cause...

Oh for mousin' out loud, Saffy.  The rules are: no scratchin', no bitin', no hurtin' the peeps.  MOUSES!

"But WHY?"

'Cause they don't like it, that's why.  Peeps don't like bein' scratched or bitten.  It hurts 'em.  They don't have the protective coatin' of fur we cats have, and they tend to be thin-skinned.

In more ways than one, I have found.

MOUSES!

"But WHY?"

But why what?  Why don't they like bein' scratched or bitten, or...  Or why don't they have a layer of fur to protect their thin skins?

"Neither.  I''m asking why it's a rule that we cats aren't allowed to give Peepers a little bite now and then.  WHY?"

Well for starters, Saffron, it's not now and then.  I heard Peepers tellin' you not to bite her twice already today.

And I'll probably hear it again, later on.

It appears to be a daily habit of yours.  Bitin' the peep, that is.  Perhaps even hourly!

"But I never break her skin.  I never draw blood.  It's just a little love bite, Seville.  A little bite telling her I love her to bits."

BUT SHE DOESN'T WANNA BE LOVED TO BITS, SAFFRON!  And she CERTAINLY doesn't wanna be loved by bein' bitten.  Why can't you just rub up against her legs and purr like we normal cats do?

"I do do that, Seville.  Right before I bite her.  And often afterwards, too.  It's like a little love bite sandwich.  A soft little nibble sandwiched between sessions of my purring and winding myself around her feet until she trips."

Well it's gonna have to stop and stop real soon, Saffron.  Stop really, REALLY soon.  Like as in today, right here, and right now.  That last little nibble is the last nibble you'll take.  You hear that, Saffron?  YOU HEAR?

"Oh I hear you all right.  Went right in one ear and straight out the other, in fact, bein' heard on the way."

In one ear and right out the other, you say?

"Uh-huh."

That's kinda what I feared, I'm afraid.

"Seville, I simply don't understand why Peepers complains when I show her affection.  When I show her how much I appreciate she's our peep.  It makes absolutely no sense to me.  Most peeps would be THRILLED to be told by their cats that they're loved.  Wouldn't they?  Wouldn't they?"

Not in that way.

"I still don't understand, and obviously you don't, either.  Come here, Seville.  I'll give you a little bite on the ear to show you I love YOU and appreciate YOUR being my brother.  You'll see it really doesn't hurt.  Not even a bit.  Here.  Come here!  COME HERE AND LET ME BITE YOU, SEVILLE.  COME HERE!"

Saffron, you bite my ear and you'll regret it.  I don't care if you think it's affection.  It's not.  It hurts!  And you keep that up and Peepers is gonna blow a gasket, for sure.

"What is she going to do?  Bite me right back?"

*silence*

"No, she wouldn't do that, Seville.  She wouldn't do that.  She promised she'd never, ever hurt me, no matter what.  That's what she said!"

Ah-ha!  So you ADMIT that bitin' can hurt.

"Well yes, if you don't know what you're doing, it can.  Peeps aren't normally biters so they don't know how it's done.  Peeps need to stick to tickling the backs of our heads and under our chins."

All I know is, Saffron, if you keep on bitin' Peep #1, she's gonna keep scoldin' you, and I've noticed her scoldin' is gettin' louder and louder and THAT, ol' brother of mine, is hurtin' MY EARS, so stop it once and for all or I'm gonna have to take matters into my own four paws, and...

"Okay, okay...  I won't bite Peepers again."

"Today."

"Well, not in the next hour or so."

"Maybe twenty minutes."

*Saffron stalks off, tail held high*

I probably should have told him 'bout all the germs on peeps' legs.  A cat never knows where peeps' legs have been.  Peeps don't keep themselves nearly as clean as we cats do, you see.  A cat could get really SICK bitin' a peep.

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.

foul mood

Of all the nerve...

OF ALL THE NERVE...

My gosh that peep is rude.

MOUSES!

I know, I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin', some peep has been rude to MY peep.  And you know what?

You would be wrong.

MOUSES!

While it's true that some peep MIGHT have been rude to my peep, I try not to concern myself with such mundane matters.  Peepers has gotta learn to stand up for herself, you see, and what better way for her to stand up for herself than to stand up to peeps who would be rude?

MOUSES!

No, rude peeps are only of a concern to me when they're bein' rude to me and the fact of the matter is, MY peep was incredibly rude to me early this mornin'.  She was rude to Saffy, too, but you know... Stuff happens.

MOUSES!

So how was ol' Peepers rude to Saffron and me, you ask?

Well...

Well she wasn't so much rude as she was...

Nope, she was rude.

MOUSES!

Okay, so I'll tell you what happened.  I asked Peepers a question and she up and left the room.

Can you believe it?

MOUSES!

Okay, so TECHNICALLY she was actually already on her way outside when I was askin' her the question, and it is quite possible she didn't hear me ask it, but still...

RUDE.

MOUSES!

The real problem is, Peepers was in a foul mood this mornin'.  Foul as foul can be.  Foul as a hen house full of chickens, she was.

MOUSES!

So apparently...

Apparently we had a visitor last night.  Maybe two.  Maybe three!  And you know what?  You know what those visitors did?

Well they didn't bring me prezzies and THAT is rude, too.

MOUSES!

And not only did they not bring me, Seville the Cat, a prezzie, they left behind a right ol' mess.  The bird feeder hangin' from the veranda was down on the ground; empty of all its seed AND, turns out, the metal cord thingy from which it hangs has been broken beyond repair.

Yeah, when Peepers re-filled the knocked down feeder only to discover it couldn't be hung up again, she stomped off in ANOTHER rage, for sure.

And the metal stand thingy with all the hooks, the one in the middle of the front lawn, was also knocked down; but Peepers managed to get it back up, even though one of the prong leg thingies was all bent out of shape.

That made her foulness all the more foul, if you can believe she could get even fouler.

Oh, and the two acorn feeders hangin' from said metal stand thingy with all the hooks?  The two acorns that are Peepers' very favourite bird-feeders of all time on account of their bein' so cute?

Well...

Well...

Well one she found halfway across the lawn.

MOUSES!

And the other one...

The other one...

THE OTHER ONE...

THE OTHER ONE looks like it was trampled by a stampede, is completely bent out of shape - like Peepers, herself, I believe - and is totally, utterly, unreservedly unusable and unfillable, not to mention useless, to be sure.

Yup, the thing is as flat as a pancake, she said.

MOUSES!

And just who were these visitors, you ask?  And ask you might, on account of my havin' asked the very same question, although an answer I did not get.

Yeah, that was about the time Peepers so rudely stomped outta the house.

MOUSES!

Well my first guess was a neighbour.  Some of 'em have found out they appear in my book - YES, I am still workin' on that - and are none-too-pleased 'bout the fact, you see.

But then I thought, why would a neighbour wanna give me EVEN MORE fodder for my book?  That would be stupid beyond belief.

So then I thought perhaps it was an alien workin' on crop circles who took a wrong turn.

But that made no sense once I rethunk it.

Rethunk...

MOUSES!

Then rocky raccoons came to mind.  They've had their eyes on those bird feeders for a while now.  But could a raccoon, even a chubby one, squish a metal acorn feeder like that?

Probably not.

So now I'm wonderin'...

NOW I'M WONDERIN'...

NOW I'M WONDERIN' if it was that big ol' bear some peeps have seen wanderin' about.  Could that bear have been visitin' my house late last night?

And if so, WHY THE MOUSES DIDN'T HE BRING ME PREZZIES?  ARE BEARS NOT TAUGHT PROPER ETIQUETTE WHEN THEY'RE YOUNG?

Who the mouses goes to dinner at someone's house without bringin' a gift for the host!

Of all the nerve.

A little bottle of nip wine would have been nice.

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.

never have I ever

Never have I ever...

Never have I ever...

Never have I ever scratched the peep.

I don't think.

But to tell you the truth...

It's kinda hard to remember.

MOUSES!

Saffy, of course, can't the say the same, on account of Saffy Saffron Sassafras attackin' Peepers' legs on a daily basis.  You know, just for fun.  He says it's 'cause he loves her, but Peepers and I aren't buyin' that at all.  Peepers says it hurts and I'm inclined to believe her.

MOUSES!

But back to me and what I've done.  IF I HAVE, by chance, scratched the peep, it wouldn't have been my fault.  Nope, no sirree.  The blame would have been all the peep's.

Of course.

MOUSES!

Now let's see...

Never have I ever...

Never have I ever...

Never have I ever pooped on the floor.

Now that I CAN say I've never done, for sure.

'Cept for an occasional wrong-side-of-the-box accident kinda thing.

And if THAT happened, it, too, wasn't my fault.

Not my fault litter boxes don't come in appropriate sizes.

MOUSES!

So never have I ever...

Never have I ever...

Never have I ever eaten a tomato.

Hear that, Peepers?  Hear that?  Never have I, Seville the Cat, ever eaten a tomato WHICH IS WHY...

Which is why I really don't give a mouse's tail 'bout the fact that due to unforeseen circumstances - that have absolutely nothin' to do with me - you don't have your tomato plants in the ground yet, and are worried you might not get 'em in at all.  They can shrivel up and die in their little pots, for all I care.  Whether you grow tomatoes this year is not of any interest to me.  And do you know why?  DO you?  DO YOU?

Well I'll tell you why, I will.  I don't care 'bout those stupid tomato plants, or the tomatoes they're supposed to produce, on account of their bein' stupid.  On account of their bein' tomatoes, you see.  And on account of the fact that I, Seville the Cat, have never, ever, EVER eaten a tomato in all my nine lives and I'm not plannin' on eatin' any stupid ol' tomatoes in the future, either, so...

So I suggest you get out there and do somethin' useful like waterin' my nip plants that I asked you to water on account of CATNIP bein' a crop of great importance to me.

Unlike tomatoes.

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

Why...

Why...

Why, never have I ever heard such language comin' from a peep.

At least not while bein' directed at me.

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.

I'm back

So I'm back.

There's no need to applaud.

MOUSES!

I said...  I'M BACK.

MOUSES!

My gosh, a kitty goes on a little hiatus, and although he refuses the expected fanfare upon his return - not to mention the offer of a small to medium-sized parade, what does a kitty get?

Nothin' but grief.

MOUSES!

Okay, so there was actually no grief.

Actually, there was nothin' at all!

DID YOU HEAR ME?

I said, I'M BACK.

MOUSES!

Nothin' but crickets.

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, there's nothin' to worry 'bout, 'bout my not bloggin' for the last few weeks.  Some stuff cropped up.  Personal stuff.  Well personal peep stuff, I suppose, which is not of any importance 'cept for the fact that it interfered with my bloggin' schedule, which actually IS important but as I said, the actual personal peep stuff is definitely not.  But Peepers' personal peep predicament has all been taken care of now, so there's really no need to go on palavering 'bout it, and...

And anyway...

I'M BACK.

Hmph, I'm havin' a really hard time hearin' the cries of joy and adulation regardin' my return, over the sound of all those crickets.

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.

that was funny

Bwahahahahahaha!!!

Oh my mouses, that was funny.

MOUSES!

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

You say it's not nice for me to laugh at my brother, huh?

But what he did was funny.

MOUSES!

FINE, then YOU do somethin' stupid, Peepers, and I'll laugh at you.

Which is what usually happens 'round here, anyway.

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

You say it's not nice for me to laugh at you, either, huh?

Well I say, you don't want me laughin' at you, don't do stupid stuff that makes me laugh.

MOUSES!

Oh, and by the way, Peepers, you might wanna go check on Saffron and see if he's okay.

'Cause he fell off the deck, is why.  He was out there at the edge, rollin' around, showin' off his tummy ('mongst other things), thinkin' he's the man of the town now that he's been snipped and chipped and has had all his vaccines; and then the next thing he knew...

The next thing he knew, he rolled a little too far over to his right..  Right?  No, left.  Nope, it was HIS right.  Anyway, he rolled a little too far over to his right and rolled right off the edge.  Just vanished out of sight!  AND THE SIGHT OF THAT made me laugh.  'CAUSE IT WAS FUNNY.

MOUSES!

Lookie here, Peepers, it's not like I, Seville the Cat, haven't done the exact same thing, myself.  So havin' done that exact same thing myself, I know for a fact that the deck isn't all that high and no harm actually comes to a cat who rolls off it.  Why, a cat like me can jump off that deck in his sleep.

Which I have also done, I do believe, but there's no need to dwell on occasional sleepwalkin' and things.

But anyway...

But anyway, LIKE I SAID, when Saffron did it, it was funny to watch.  SO I LAUGHED.  Yes, I laughed at my brother.  And you know what, ol' peep of mine?  If he does it again, I'm gonna laugh at him then, too.

MOUSES!

THEN WHY DON'T YOU GO OUT THERE, lie on your back at the edge of the deck, and roll around exposin' your tummy.  You do that, Peepers, followed by a rollin' OFF the deck maneuver, and I'll stop laughin' at Saffron and start laughin' at YOU.

Did I say start?  I actually meant get back to 'cause you know, laughin' at you is what I normally do.

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.

the storm between the storms

'Twas the calm before the storm.

Nope, that can't be right.  First of all, it didn't happen before the storm and secondly, it was anythin' but calm.

MOUSES!

In fact, it was more like mayhem and bodily harm.

MOUSES!

So as you all read on Wednesday, we had that big ol' wind storm, Tuesday.  You know the one.  The one where the wind blew and blew AND BLEW the house right down.

Okay, so it didn't actually blow the house down BUT IT DID blow one of Peepers' mini greenhouses all the way across the yard, not to mention someone's old mattress that had been put out for spring cleanup went flyin' down Main Street.

CLEANUP ON AISLE MAIN!

Sorry, I couldn't resist.

MOUSES!

But anyway...

But anyway, between the blowin' and blowin' and Peepers spottin' the wayward mattress when goin' for mail, Saffron was supposed to go see Dr T for his checkup.

Did you happen to catch that there word I used?  That eight letter word between was and to?  The word, supposed?

Yeah, well...

Well it appears ol' Saffy Saffron Saffers Sassafras - yeah, I call him that, sometimes - has caught on to the ol' crate transportation thing.

MOUSES!

The first time Saffy had to go to the hospital was for his first ever check-up and vaccines.  Peepers picked him up and gave him a little shove; and Saffron practically walked right into that crate.

Silly cat.

The second time Saffy had to go to the hospital was two weeks later, for his big operation.  You know the one.  The snip-snip, as they say.  Now by this time he had kinda cottoned on to the whole crate business and it was a lot harder for Peepers to get him in there.  But she did.  It necessitated that the crate be tipped on its end and hind paws had to go in first but by gosh and by golly, Peepers got him stuffed into that crate.

Not quite so silly cat.

But the third time...

Well the third time Saffy had to go to the hospital was Tuesday, late afternoon.  Like I said before, right between Peepers draggin' her mini greenhouse halfway 'cross the yard back to where it was supposed to be, and her spottin' that ol' mattress that had blown down Main Street.  Dr T wanted to see how well Saffron had healed after the snip-snip, and give him his booster shots, you see.

Needless to say, that appointment didn't happen.

MOUSES!

What did happen is that Peepers tipped the crate on its end and proceeded to put Saffy inside, hind paws first, just like the last time.  But Saffy apparently now knows that if he kicks and kicks and kicks with those hind paws, Peepers can't get him in the crate, no matter how hard she tries.

Saffy also now knows that the claws on those hind paws of his are deadly.  They can slash through skin far deeper than front claws can, and the evidence is right there on Peepers' right arm.  Still.  Yup, they're - and I say THEY're 'cause he scratched her TWICE, you see - healin' but I can still see the marks he made.

Thus, the bit 'bout the bodily harm.

And between the several attempts of gettin' that cat into that crate, there was a whirlwind of activity with Peepers havin' to look under chairs, go down into the basement, and come back up to look under more chairs, on account of Saffron makin' his escape while the peep was busy washin' and bandagin' her wounds.  My gosh, that whirlwind of activity was so...  Uhh...  So windy - wink, wink - it was like we had another little wind storm goin' on right inside our very own house.

MOUSES!

So long story short...

Kinda.  Maybe not.

Long story short, ol' Saffy Saffron Saffers Sassafras did NOT get to see Dr T, Tuesday afternoon.  Peepers is gonna try again NEXT week.

Well, we'll see.

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.

stuff

Stuff.

Yup, you heard that correctly: STUFF.

Yes sirree, today I, Seville the Cat, will be blogging 'bout stuff.

Stuff of catastrophic and apocalyptic proportions, that is.

MOUSES!

So let me tell you all about what happened yesterday.

The day started out just fine.  It was gonna rain a lot.  The weatherpeeps warned us all about that.  And you know weatherpeeps: sometimes they get it right, sometimes they get it wrong, and most of the time it's somewhere in between.  But when they say it's gonna rain buckets, it's probably gonna rain at least a bit.  'Nough to carry an umbrella, at least.

MOUSES!

But what they didn't tell us...  Or at least they didn't emphasise it enough...  Was all 'bout the other STUFF.

MOUSES!

But back to the start of the day.  The START of the day was just fine.  Even saw the sun for a minute or two.  Okay, so maybe 'bout ten seconds.

But then sometime after lunch...

Sometime after lunch, the winds started howlin' like I've never heard winds howl before.  At least not in the past few months, that is.  The winds were howlin' and stuff - yup, STUFF - was thrashin' about and there was somethin' thump, thump, thumpin' on the roof.  I don't wanna know what.

And the rain!  Well the rain was not so much rainin' as bein' DUMPED DOWN from above.

MOUSES!

At one point, Peepers looked out a window and noticed the cover of one of her two little greenhouses had come off.  So out she went, thinkin' she'd put it back on, but the wind was so strong the cover acted like a sail and there was no way, no how, that she could get that cover to cooperate at all.  Best she could do was anchor it to the ground with a couple cement blocks.

A little while later, Peepers looked out that same window again, and noticed the OTHER cover had come off.  So out she went, knowin' she wouldn't be able to put it back on its frame, but thought she'd be able to anchor it, too, to the ground with some more of those cement blocks.

But when she went out...

Well when she went out, not only was the cover for the greenhouse gone, but the greenhouse was gone as well!

MOUSES!

But way over on the other side of the yard...

Way over on the other side of the yard, Peepers found said greenhouse and cover.  She dragged first the frame back to where it belonged, anchored it down with the metal thingies for anchorin' that had been all strewn about the yard, and then tossed a couple cement blocks over the cover.

Good thing the woman has lots of cement blocks.

MOUSES!

And then...

Well that's when the actual pandemonium and chaotic mayhem ensued, resultin' in some bodily injury, carnage, and maiming.  I'm gonna save that part 'til Sunday's blog post, I think.  Too much to talk about here.

MOUSES!

And after the chaos of the part I'm savin' for later, Peepers decided to go for the mail.  Needless to say, she decided to drive and not walk.  No explanation needed

And that's when she saw the destruction and carnage around.  Not so much on our street, but two streets down, there was a mattress lyin' right there on the ground.  Now I've watched Peepers flip a mattress before and let me tell you somethin', my friends: it is not a pretty sight.  And afterwards, the peep is kinda pooped to be sure.

NO, not pooped as in poopies in her pants, but pooped as in pooped.  You know, pooped as in tired, I believe.

SO CAN YOU IMAGINE how strong that wind must have been to blow a full-sized mattress right down the street?

MOUSES!

This mornin', Peepers and I took a good walk 'round the garden.  Some branches are down.  Gutters at the back of the house are gonna need fixin'.  But the really important thing is...

MY CATNIP PLANTS ARE SAFE AND SOUND.

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.

play it again, Sam

Play it again, Sam.  Play it again!

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

Oh yeah.  Your name isn't Sam.

Hmmm...

Play it again, Peepers.  Play it again!

Okay, so it doesn't have quite the same ring to it but, uh...

Umm...

Oh, just...  Just PLAY IT AGAIN!

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

So?  So what if Saffy and I are already inside.  So what?  Our already bein' in the house doesn't mean you CAN'T call for us to come outside.  It just means you look pretty stupid doin' so, is all; but hey, when it comes to lookin' stupid, Peepers, you should be used to that by now.

MOUSES!

Yeah, but...

But...

BUT...

Okay, it's like this, Peepers.  When you stand at the front door and call for us in that obnoxious, high-pitched, ear-wrenchin' voice you use...

What?

Is so.

I beg to differ, Peepers, but your voice is VERY ear-wrenchin', for sure.  At least to us cats, it is.  We of the feline persuasion have very sensitive ears, you see, but honestly, I think you're missin' the point.

What?

Oh, the point.  THE POINT IS, when you call for us with that voice of yours, the dogs that live WAY over at the other end of the street always bark in reply.  Like...  Like always!  Go on.   Give it at try.  I'll prove it to you.  Just call for us to come inside.

"SIVVERS...  SAFFY...."

*a cacophony of barking ensues*

See?  Told you.  Happens every time.  It's like they think you're a dog or somethin'.  Like you're singin' - if you wanna call it singin' even though you're totally off-key - the song of their people.  And let me tell you somethin', ol' peep of mine, IT'S ABSOLUTELY HILARIOUS, for sure.

Bwahahahahahahahahahahahaha....

MOUSES!

Come on Peepers.  COME ON...  Go call for us again.  Go call!  I wanna hear those doggies barkin' back like they always do.  I'm pretty sure it's annoyin' them, you see, and as a cat, annoyin' dogs is amusin' to me.  One of the little pleasures of life, it is.  COME ON, GO CALL!  You go call out the door and I'll sit here quietly laughin' to myself.  I'll sit here as quiet as quiet can be.

Bwahahahahahahahahahahahaha....

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.

mission accomplished

It's done; complete; finito.

MOUSES!

To tell you the truth, Peepers and I THOUGHT it might be mission impossible.  Thankfully though, it turned out to not be all that impossible after all and is now a mission accomplished, for sure.

MOUSES!

That's right, the boy has been neutered.

MOUSES!

It actually wasn't all that bad.  Early Monday mornin', Saffy went into the crate with no problems at all...

Okay, I admit it: I LIE.

Yeah, so the FIRST time Saffy was crated, it was easy-peasy, for sure.  But apparently, Saffy remembered 'bout his trip to the doctor from a couple weeks ago, along with the pokin' and proddin' that ensued - not to mention the takin' of his temperature - and decided he had had enough of that business the first time round.

So...

So this past Monday, Peepers had to resort to the ol' tippin'-the-crate-on-its-side-and-shovin'-the-kitty-in-feet-first thing.

MOUSES!

Okay, so it's not so much shovin' as...

Well...

Well to tell you the truth, when you're the cat bein' put in the crate, NO MATTER HOW GENTLE the peep might be, it FEELS like shovin', for sure.

Least that's what Saffy says.  I, Seville the Cat, bein' THE BEST BEHAVED CAT in the whole entire world- maybe even universe - wouldn't know 'bout that, on account of my always cooperatin' with the peep when it comes to cratin', and...

Yeah, yeah...  I LIE.  I'm probably more like the second or third best behaved cat in the world.

Plus, that whole ol' tippin'-the-crate-on-its-side-and-shovin'-the-kitty-in-feet-first maneuver was kinda developed with me in mind.

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, Saffron has been snipped.  Yup, snipped and chipped.  Snipped, chipped, and...

Yeah, I've got nothin' suitable that rhymes with that.

MOUSES!

But back to the not-so-impossible mission.  Saffron came home late Monday afternoon, none the worse for wear.  He wasn't even groggy!  In fact, Peepers opened up the crate and he dashed out like he was competin' in the Olympics for the 100m race,which is weird on account of the Olympics bein' all over for this year.  PLUS, they don't allow cats to compete against peeps.

We would always win, you see.

MOUSES!

But Saffy Saffron Saffers Sassafras ran outta that crate like there was no tomorrow.  Yup, he ran all the way over to our eatin' area, and waited for some treats - which he got, of course - even though he hadn't yet had his din-dins.  But he did have his din-dins after the treats, along with somethin' to drink.

I'm tellin' ya, it's like the cat doesn't even know he was snipped.

Yup, he's that nonchalant about the whole thing.

Just wait 'til he goes to meet up with his ladycat friends.

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.

snip-snip

Tomorrow's the big day.  Yup, tomorrow is Saffron's BIG day, for sure.  Tomorrow is the day that my brother Saffy Saffron Saffers Sassafras - yeah, I call him that sometimes - goes in for his uh...

Umm...

Well, you know...

His SNIP-SNIP.

*wink wink*

MOUSES!

And let me tell you somethin', my friends, tomorrow can't come soon enough.

MOUSES!!!

I know, I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin', didn't I, Seville the Cat, blog 'bout Saffy's big day before?

You know somethin', my friends?   You're right!  I did.  I, Seville the Cat, DID blog 'bout Saffy's big day before, but...

But before when I blogged 'bout his big day, his big day was off in the far and distant future.  NOW his big day is tomorrow.

MOUSES!

Peepers and I have our paws crossed we won't get too much snow tomorrow like the weatherpeeps are sayin' we might.  We're purrin' and prayin' we don't get so much snow that Saffy's appointment will have to be rescheduled.  We're purrin' and...

What's that you're asking 'bout now?

Oh, that.  Yeah, THAT.  Yup, Ol' Mother Nature is havin' mood swings again so EVEN THOUGH IT'S APRIL ALREADY, we're expectin' a snowstorm tomorrow.  Ten centimetres, they say.  Maybe more!  I'm tellin' ya, it's as disgustin' as disgustin' can get.  DISGUSTIN'!

Although to tell you the truth...

To tell you the truth, these mood swings of Mother Nature's are not unlike the cryin' and howlin' Saffry Saffron Saffers Sassafras has been doin' at four in the mornin' before the sun has even THOUGHT about gettin' up.  Before ANYONE IN THEIR RIGHT MIND has thought about gettin' up, to be sure.

Thus, the need for the snip-snip to happen tomorrow.

And after the snip-snip, I'm hopin' I'll get a chance to sleep in.  'Cause a cat like me NEEDS his beauty sleep, you see.

Well, truth be told, I'D be beautiful - HANDSOME, I mean - whether I got my beauty sleep or not.  I mean, just look at this face.  How could this face NOT be as beautiful and handsome as can be?

However, it's a totally different situation with the peep.  Let's just say, Peepers needs her sleep.  Yup, Peepers needs her beauty sleep, for sure.  I'm tellin' ya, if Peepers doesn't start gettin' a good night's sleep on a regular basis, other peeps in the neighbourhood are gonna start leavin' crates of night creams and serums and gels and all sorts of stuff along with gift cards and certificates for local plastic surgeons on our doorstep just so they don't have to look at her harried, harassed, and haggard ol' face, and...

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

What am I tellin' my readers, you ask?

Uh...

Umm...

Nothin'.  Nothin' at all.  Just casually mentionin' that tomorrow is the Day of the Snip.

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.