state of disrepair

"Hum-de-dum-de-dum-de-dum...  Hum-de-dum-de-do..." I sang softly, sidling up to Peep #1. "Oh Peepers, have you been in the front hall lately?  I think Mason pooped in your shoe."

"Mason did what?" the peep cried before dropping what she was doing and running into the hall.  In a flash, I was up on the kitchen island and had snagged a brick of cheese.  Heading into the family room, I heard the peep behind me saying, "No one pooped in my shoe, Seville."

"Did I say shoe?" I called back to her.  "I meant litter box.  Sorry," and I waved her off with a paw.

"You told the peep I pooped in her shoe?" Mason cried, paws placed firmly on her hips and looking rather indignant.

"Never mind that, Mason," Anderson told his sister before looking at me to ask, "Seville, did you get the cheese?"

"I got the cheese."

Hearing my answer, Rushton appeared in the room.  "Did someone say cheese?"

The four cats stared down at the brick of cheese before them and began to purr, loudly.

"Gosh that was good," I said, wiping my mouth with a paw.  "Time for a nap, I do believe." Anderson, Rushton and Mason nodded in agreement before heading off to their various favourite sleeping spots.  I, myself, jumped up onto the chesterfield and settled in for a snooze.

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

"Psst...  cat.  Psst...  CAT!  CAT!!!"

I opened one eye to see a little grey mouse before me, holding a clipboard.  "Awww...   MOUSES!" I cried.

"Your assistance is required," I was informed.

"My assistance is required.  My assistance is required?  Of course my assistance is required!" and I flung my front paws up in the air.  "What is it this time?  Someone lose their cheese?" I asked the mouse.

The little grey mouse stared back at me.  "Lose their cheese?" he asked.

"Never mind.  It's just an expression," I explained, rising to my paws.  "Lead the way oh royal mousiness.  Your desire is my command."

Again the little grey mouse stared blankly at me.  "Another expression!" I cried.  "Boy-oh-boy-oh-boy...  MOUSES!"

I watched as the little grey mouse surveyed the family room.  He quickly scribbled some notes on his clipboard and although I tried to get a glimpse of what he was writing, he held that board close to his chest.  Besides, the little I did see told me he was using cursive writing.  Might as well have been in secret code as cursive writing is no longer taught in Nova Scotian schools.  Clearly the Mouseland schools have recognized the shortsightedness of this.

Stopping in my tracks, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was different.  Was it the mouse? No, he looked like all the other Mouseland mice.  Was it the cheese?  Had the cheese I had recently snacked upon been off in some way?  I glanced around the room and saw Mason snoozing peacefully over on a chair.  Nothing had upset her tummy and she had eaten as much cheese as I. Maybe even more.  Clearly, the cheese had been okay.  So why did everything feel different in some way?

"Are you coming?" the mouse asked impatiently and I picked up my pace.  As we rounded the corner, ribbons of light swirled before my eyes as time and space morphed into what I had come to know as the great halls of Mouseland.

I could hear the sounds of construction going on in the back corner of the hall.  Several mice were wielding saws and hammers and goodness knows what else.  The commotion was both annoying and interesting at the same time and I made a mental note to investigate the first chance I got.

A second little grey mouse came running to the side of the mouse who had summoned me and was now whispering in his ear.  Together, they conferred over the notes the first mouse had taken at my house.  The second mouse nodded enthusiastically in agreement.  "Oh yes, yes...  Most definitely yes," I heard the second mouse say.  "That should do nicely."

I stuck my nose between the two mice before asking, "Anyone want to enlighten me as to what's going on?"

The second mouse coughed nervously before saying, "Er-hem...  We're going to need your condominium, Mr. Cat.  It is required."

"IT'S WHAT?" I cried.  "Wait a minute, I don't have a condominium.  I live in a house."  Then it came to me and I knew exactly what the mice were on about.  "You want my kitty condo.  Well no can do, my friends.  That condo belongs not just to me but to my fur-sibs as well.  Besides, moving it requires peep assistance.  No way for cats and mice to move it on their own.  It's too heavy, you see."

I sat back on my haunches, remembering the time Constance had taken a running leap, almost knocking the kitty condo down, thereby moving it without the aid of peeps but quickly decided not to mention that incident to the mice.  That condo was staying in my family room no matter what.

I stared at the mice and they stared right back.  "How come you guys need a condo, anyway?  No condos here in Mouseland?" I asked.

"Our main residence requires repairs," a third mouse answered as he approached.  "It is currently unfit for mouse occupancy."

"That's awful!" I cried.  "Look, I can certainly commiserate with you.  Every mouse needs a house but tell me, how did it get so far gone?  Hurricane?  Tornado?  Flood?  Some other unexpected disaster like a newly purchased high-powered vacuum with cyclonic speed?"

"None of the above," the first mouse sadly shook his head.  "Nothing so unforeseen.  It was simply neglect.  Years upon years of neglect.  Warnings were given.  Warnings were ignored.  Now the residence is practically falling apart.  We're making repairs as fast as we can but," and the mouse pointed to the far corner of the hall where I had noticed construction being done earlier, "as you can see, they won't be completed any time in the near future."

"WOW.  I feel for you, guys.  Really, I do.  Looks like you have a big old mess on our paws but," and I narrowed my eyes, "you're not getting my kitty condo and that's just how it is.  MOUSES!"

The great halls of Mouseland suddenly became deathly quiet and I'd swear you could hear a kitten's whisker fall on a deeply piled rug.

"What can I say, mice?  The condo belongs to us cats.  Besides, I'm not sure if you noticed or anything but it's not in all that great shape, either.  Needs some new carpeting in spots.  Got my paws crossed Santa will take care of that in a couple of months."

"Anyway," and I strode across the hall with an air of determination, "exactly who is to blame for your residence falling apart?  Someone must be.  Someone must be responsible for the neglect.  Make him fix it up.  After all, it's kind of HIS FAULT!"

At that, all the mice began to talk in unison but I couldn't make heads nor tails about what they were saying.  The mice who had been working in the construction area began constructing once more and I crept up behind them.  Suddenly, one turned toward me and put down the hammer he was using.

I peered at this new mouse and licked my lips with a grin.  I even made a sudden move towards him but alas, I couldn't spook him at all.  He stood his ground and smiled back at me, almost knowingly.

This mouse was different from the rest and that was for sure.  He had an air of authority about him and confidence, too, and yet not so overly confident as to be annoying if you know what I mean. He was clearly in charge but not bossing everyone around.

I approached closer, giving the air a good sniff.  "Excuse me, Sir, but you don't smell quite right for a mouse in charge of this place..  I don't smell any of that stinky ol' Gorgonzola cheese at all."  I inhaled even more deeply.  There was a cheesy smell all right but not...  "Cheddar!" I cried.  "You've been snacking on Canadian Cheddar.  Ten...  No...  Twelve-years-old.  Am I right?"

We were nose to nose now, this new mouse and I.  I gazed into his eyes and wondered, could this be The Big Cheese in disguise?

"Of course!" and I slapped a paw to my head.  "You changed your hair.  I should of known.  NICE. Yup, yup...  Very nice hair, indeed."

I turned to the little grey mouse who had summoned me earlier and whispered in his ear, "Get the name of his groomer for me, would you?  I could do with a groomer like that.  He's good."

"So why AM I here?" I asked.  "Anyone know?  Taking my kitty condo is a non-starter but I'll tell you what I will do.  I'll lend a paw with helping to fix up this residence of yours.  What needs to be done first?  Might I suggest you get rid of these Gorgonzola cheese crumbs lying about?"  I picked up a couple crumbs and tossed them out of my way.  "Crumbs like that are gonna stink up the place, for sure."

Grabbing a broom, I started sweeping the area and noticed the mouse with the nice hair heading back to his work, hammering supports together for what I assumed was part of a foundation.  "Seriously, mouse," I cried over to him.  "You really ought to make whoever refused to take care of this mess earlier, fix it up now.  After all, if the place hadn't been neglected for so long, it wouldn't have fallen into this state of disrepair."

And then all of a sudden, just for good measure and kind of on a whim, I cried out at the top of my lungs, the cry of my people.  "MOUSES!" I yelled.  I yelled as loudly as I could.

"Mice," I heard echoing from all four corners of the Mouseland hall.  "The plural of mouse is mice."

"Nice to hear the Grammar Mice Police are still with us," I smirked to myself.  "I was wondering when they'd make their presence known.  Was even kind of missing them, there, for a moment at least. Thought they might all have gone home."

Then back to work I went, sweeping Gorgonzola cheese crumbs off the Mouseland residence floor, surrounded by mice who were busily repairing damaged floors, walls and ceilings along with goodness knows what else.

head in the sand

Feeling a little peckish, I sauntered into the kitchen only to find my sister, Mason, already snacking on a bowl of kibble. "That the best on offer today?" I asked.

"Looks like it.  Checked on the island but there was nothing save a vase of sweet peas."

"Why would you want to save a vase of sweet peas, Mason?"  I shook my head, trying to figure out what sweet peas had to do with savings accounts.  I then glanced in the direction of the refrigerator and a brilliant idea came to mind.  "Mason, help me with this door, would you?"

Mason stopped eating her kibble.  "Do you think we can get it open?  I tried earlier but with this new fridge, I can't reach the handle.  All I could open was the freezer part at the bottom and everything in there was frozen."

I braced myself on all fours.  "Hop on my back, Mason.  You should be able to open the door if I give you a boost."

Within five minutes, we had the fridge door open.  Standing on our hind legs, we stared inside.  The top shelves were out of reach but there, on the bottom shelf, was a box of Camembert.  With one swipe of a paw, I had that cheese onto the kitchen floor and out of its box.  Success.

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

Mason smacked her lips with pleasure.  "That was delicious!" she declared, "even if it was a tad on the cold side.  Ice cold Camembert isn't nearly as bad as I've heard it to be.  Pass me some of those broken crackers, would you Sivvers?"

I obliged by stomping on a few crackers and pushing the broken bits over to my sister before stating, "That was good.  I think I'll take a little nap.  Maybe I can score some tummy rubs or something from a peep," and off I went in the direction of the family room.  Minutes later, I was sound asleep.

"Psst...  PSST...  CAT!"

"Awww...  MOUSES!" I mumbled under my breath.  I let out a big yarn.  A HUGE yawn. My teeth gleamed in the moonlight streaming through the family room window.

The little grey mouse standing before me and clutching a mouse-sized clipboard, sniffed the air. "You have cheese breath," he declared.  "Camembert, to be exact.  No wonder I was sent to summon you tonight."

"Better cheese on my breath than mouse, I should think," and I slowly rose to my feet.  Getting in a good stretch, I asked, "What is it this time?  What has The Big Cheese done now?"

"He hasn't done a thing," explained the little grey mouse.  "That's the whole problem.  Please follow me as I'm on a tight schedule."

"You're always on a tight schedule," I muttered while following the little grey mouse out of the room. "Sometimes I think you just make that schedule stuff up.  Just once I'd like to actually see that schedule of yours."  We turned the corner and, as expected, the air in what should have been the kitchen turned thick and hazy.  Coloured lines swirled before my very eyes and flashes of light burst here and there.  We had arrived in the great hall of Mouseland.

I peered around but saw no sign of any mice anywhere.  As if reading my mind, the little grey mouse explained how it was summer break.  "Then why am I here?" I asked him.  "Surely I must deserve a summer break from Mouseland, too."

The mouse just stared at me as if I had said something ridiculous.  "Please..." he uttered in an exasperated tone.  "Come this way."

Obediently, I followed the mouse to the end of the hall and watched as he magically disappeared through a wall.  "MOUSES!"

"Mice." I heard emanating from beyond the wall.  "The plural of mouse is mice."

"Ah-hah!  The grammar mice aren't on holiday," I declared.  "Wonder if I can walk through that wall, too."  I closed my eyes and forged ahead.  "OUCH!"  I rubbed my nose where I had smacked it into the wall.  "Darn it.  Why didn't that trick work for me, too?"

I opened my eyes and the wall before me moved.  The little grey mouse stood on the other side, staring up at me.  "Mr. Cat, it's not a wall.  It's a door.  I walked though that little mouse hole at the bottom.  You, on the other paw, need to use the doorknob and open the door!"

"Oh, yeah.  Knew that," I said, still rubbing my nose and crossing my claws that it wouldn't leave a bruise.

"Hurry up, Cat.  We're running late.  I'll brief you along the way.  I need you to have a little chat with The Big Cheese."

"But I thought you said he didn't do anything."

"I did," explained the mouse, "and that's why we need you to talk to him."

Before long, I was standing in front of an office door. Not willing to fall for the same trick, twice, I reached for the doorknob and turned it.  The door opened and a blast of hot air hit me in the face.  I jumped back in shock and disbelief.

It wasn't just the temperature of the room I found to be disturbing.  It was its appearance, too.  The floor was covered in several inches of sand.  Wall-to-wall sand, everywhere.  And on those walls surrounding the sand, were pictures of ostriches.  I looked at the pictures and then at the little grey mouse. "The Big Cheese likes them," he explained, shrugging his shoulders.  "I don't know why. He just does."

The Big Cheese was in the office, too.  He was lying on his back next to a mouse-sized refrigerator that was chugging away as all get-out, trying to keep cool in the rising temperatures.  The door to the fridge was open and every now and then The Big Cheese would reach inside to extract a paw full of soft cheese.  I momentarily wondered if said cheese was Camembert which should be served at room temperature but not when the temperature in the room was this high.

I peered inside The Big Cheese's fridge and saw that it was stuffed to the brim with various types of soft cheese.  Then I looked outside the office window and saw truck after truck after truck, lined up on the street.  Each one clearly belonging to the Canadian Cheese Consortium and every one packed full of soft cheese.  Suddenly I realised exactly what was going on.

"You can't just ignore it," I said to The Big Cheese.  "Ignoring the facts won't make them go away."

The Big Cheese turned toward me and I saw gooey melted cheese dripping from the corners of his mouth.

"Just look at you, man!  I mean mouse!  I mean man!" I cried.  "LOOK AT YOU!!!  Lying here in this sweltering heat, pretending that everything is normal.  Pretending there aren't truckloads of soft cheese lining the streets due to a glut of soft cheese on the world market.  Bet that glut has lowered its price, and all.  Bet it's lowering Consortium profits, too.  Have you done anything to address this issue?"

I paused for a moment and fanned my face with a paw.  "Why it feels like it's a hundred degrees in your office, I couldn't tell you, although truth be told, as these temperatures are melting all the soft cheeses, it might be the reason no one wants to buy any of it.  You ever think about diversifying and trying to sell some different types of cheese?"

"I don't feel the heat at all," The Big Cheese sneered.  "This is normal for this time of year.  It's always warm in summer.  NOTHING to do with any kind of warming trend.  The globe is not warming at all.  In fact, I forbid you to even talk about such things!"

I rolled my eyes.  "You're in some kind of state of denial," I told him.  "If it wasn't so hot in here, you wouldn't be chilling your soft cheeses like that," and I pointed to the little refrigerator, still chugging away, trying its might to spew out cold air.

"Don't know what you're talking about, Cat," and The Big Cheese wiped a stream of melted cheese from his mouth.  "Like I said, there's nothing wrong with the temperature in this room.  Nothing wrong with Consortium profits, either.  In fact, I'm predicting we'll have a surplus of profits by year-end."

"A surplus of profits?" I questioned.  "That doesn't sound quite right, Mr. Cheese."

There was a commotion in the hall and I looked outside.  Several little mice wearing ragtag clothing wandered past, carrying slips of pink paper in their paws.

The Big Cheese motioned to the little grey mouse who had summoned me.  "Close that door," he ordered.

I glared at The Big Cheese.  "Who were those mice?" I demanded.  "Clearly, there are mice in Mouseland who can barely afford to clothe themselves.  And they looked so thin.  They work - or worked - for the Canadian Cheese Consortium but they look like they don't have even enough cheese to eat, themselves."

"Then let them eat cake.  CHEESECAKE!" The Big Cheese cried with a flourish, before stuffing another paw full of soft cheese into his mouth.

I stared at The Big Cheese in disbelief.  There was simply no way to reason with the mouse. Whether he was truly oblivious to the facts before him or simply refusing to admit things were not going as planned, he was determined to ignore the state of affairs the Canadian Cheese Consortium was in.  I turned to the little grey mouse who had summoned me.  "There's nothing I can do with him," I declared.

"But Mr. Cat, we need you to reason with him," the little mouse said in a low voice.  "Get him to address the issues at paw instead of pretending all is well in the Canadian Cheese Consortium.  The mice of Mouseland are counting on you."

"I'm sorry little guy, there's nothing I can..."

Then all of a sudden, I felt myself being lifted up.  The air around me cooled and the smell of melting cheese and mouse breath disappeared.  "I'm heading up to bed, Seville," I heard Peep #1 say. "And I'm turning off the fan down here so why don't you come upstairs, too."

I looked into the peep's eyes.  "Awww... MOUSES!" I cried.

"Were you dreaming about chasing cute little mice through fields?" the peep asked me with a smile.

"Not exactly, Peepers.  I was... Uh...  Never mind.  You probably wouldn't understand, anyway.  MOUSES!"

muzzled

"What to do, what to do..."  Lying on the floor of the sunroom, Seville busied himself by counting dust bunnies under a wicker chair. After running out of claws upon which to count them, he gazed about the room, looking for something else to occupy his time.  He watched a lone spider cross the floor in front of him and brought a heavy paw down on top of it, smiling with satisfaction.

"Oh great, Seville," commented Mason as she passed by the room.  "Now it's going to rain."

"Been raining since Sunday, Mason," Seville called after her.  "DON'T THINK KILLING ONE LITTLE SPIDER WILL MAKE A DIFFERENCE!"

Bored with dust bunny counting and spider hunting, Seville headed into the kitchen to see if there were any snacks lying about.  Finding nothing but dry kibble in the dishes, he jumped up onto the kitchen island.  "Maybe the peeps left something tasty up here," he thought aloud.

As luck would have it, Seville found a container of grated Parmesan cheese.  He flipped open the lid and knocked it on its side, causing its contents to spill out.  Licking a paw, he touched it to the cheese on the counter before drawing it up to his nose.  He breathed in heavily.  "Mmm...  reminds me a bit of Valerian Root," he whispered.

"Someone mention Valerian Root?" Mason called from the family room.

Seville ignored his sister.  Mason might have the hearing of a parabolic microphone but she also had the memory of a sieve.  She'd forget about the mention of Valerian Root soon enough.

Seville tasted the Parmesan cheese on his paw.  "Delicious," and with that, he licked up all that had spilt onto the island counter.

He then trotted into the family room and hopped up onto the kitty condo.  He would have liked to have taken a nap on the big chair but said chair was occupied by Anderson, who lay there, sound asleep and snoring like a bear.  Peep #1 was on the couch reading and the television droned on in the background.  Seville doubted he'd be able to nap with the noise of Andy's snores and the television but thought he'd give it a try, anyway.

"Er-hm."

Seville batted a paw at his ear.

"ER-HM."

He batted at his ear again and this time, opened one eye.  Before him stood a little grey mouse, clutching a clipboard to his chest.  Seville stared at the mouse.  The mouse stared back.

"Excuse me, Mr uh...  um...  Mr. Seville?  Is that your name?  You're Seville the Cat, brother of Nerissa?  Nerissa the Cat?  Is that correct?"

"I.  Don't.  Believe.  It."

The little grey mouse held out a paw.  "M1 is the name.  I'm here to brief you on the latest happenings in Mouseland.  Please follow me.  Your presence is required."

The mouse then turned on his heal, jumped down from the kitty condo and onto the arm of the big chair, walked right past Anderson who was still snoring, completely unaware of the presence of a mouse in the house, and then down to the floor, where he scampered across the room and into the kitchen.  Seville followed, obligingly.

"Whoa!" Seville cried, stopping dead in his tracks.  The air in what should have been the kitchen had turned thick with smoke and haze.  Coloured threads appeared before his eyes.  They swirled about his head, this way and that.  "Is this some sort of spacial-time distortion?  Like a wormhole?" he asked M1.

"Mouse hole, actually," answered M1.  "Please follow me.  I'm on a tight schedule."

"Mouse hole,  Makes sense," shrugged Seville.  "Then uh...  you must be from the Canadian Cheese Consortium, huh? Nissy told me all about the consortium and all the troubles you've been having with The Big Cheese and stuff." Seville paused for a moment before adding, "I never really believed in any of it before but now..."

"Oh, you can believe it, all right," said M1.  "We're here now.  Please take your muzzle and come this way."

"MUZZLE!" Seville cried with indignation.  "Muzzles are for dogs! MOUSES!"

"Mice," several mice cried, seemingly out of nowhere.  "The plural of mouse is mice."

"Grammar Mice.  Heard about them from Nissy, too.  MOUSES!" and he held up a paw before the Grammar Mice could reply.  "I know...  I know...  MICES!  No such word though, mice.  The word at paw is mouses.  MOUSES!"

The mice sitting in the great hall which Seville and M1 had entered looked at one another, obviously confused by the conversation.

"So what's with the muzzle?" Seville asked M1.

"The Big Cheese has informed us that all scientists, Consortium employees and um... Oh, I have the list somewhere here."  M1 glanced down at his clipboard and started flipping through papers. "All...  Well it doesn't really matter," explained M1.  "Bottom line is, you need to hold onto the muzzle."

"Scientists, huh?  Is this because of my research into Eggbeater-Whisk Time Travelling-Teleportation Physics?" Seville asked of M1.  "But Nissy worked on that, too, and Nissy never said NOTHIN' about wearing no muzzles."

Gasps could be heard from about the hall as Grammar Mice squeaked out cries of "Double negative!" and "He's using Fleaspeak!  HE'S USING FLEASPEAK!"  Seville rolled his eyes.

M1 looked sternly at Seville.  "There's no need for that kind of language here, Mr. Cat."

Seville looked down at his paws.  "FINE.  But I'm not wearing this muzzle and there's no way you can make me."

The little grey mouse nodded in agreement before adding, "The muzzle isn't required to be worn.  It's merely a symbol.  And it's not because of your teleportation physics thing.  It's because the last time Nerissa the Cat was here, he used the words..."

M1 scampered right over to Seville and climbed up on one of the big cat's paws.  Standing as high on his tippy-toes that a little mouse could stand, M1 beckoned for Seville to lower his head.

Seville eyed the mouse.  Was this some sort of trick?  Some sort of mousicidal entrapment?  An attempt to tempt him with a mousy snack?  He lowered his head while forcibly clamping his jaw firmly shut as to avoid temptation..

"Global Warming," M1 whispered under his breath.  "We are forbidden to use those words here or anywhere else within the Big Cheese's control."  M1's eyes darted back and forth, making sure no one had heard him but Seville.

Then all of a sudden, loud noises could be heard at the other end of the hall.  The Big Cheese was making an appearance.  Wearing a long golden robe, he glided down the centre of the hall, majestically.  Scurrying alongside him were two smaller mice, Masters Pomp and Circumstance, according to the name tags they wore.

Seville used his free front paw to lift M1 by the tail, up and off his other paw.  Setting him down on the floor he whispered, "What's going on?  What's with the...  the...  the whatever is going on over there?"

"Just watch and listen, Mr. Cat," said little M1.  "And remember.  Remember all that you see here today for sometime in the near future, you'll need to draw upon this information to solve the greatest unsolved mystery this land has ever known."

Seville's eyes grew wide in amazement.  "You mean, who let the dogs out?"

M1 slapped a paw to his forehead.  "Not that, cat.  I'm talking about the case your brother was working on.  The conspiracies at play in the Canadian Cheese Consortium.  Watch and listen, cat. One more piece of the puzzle lies before you."

The Big Cheese was less than a tail's length away from him now.  Seville could smell ripe cheese on his breath.  He wondered how Nissy had been able to resist the temptation to...

"THERE you are," and Peep #1 scooped Seville up and into her arms.  The kitchen lights shone brightly, causing him to squint his eyes.  "You wouldn't happen to know anything about this empty container of Parmesan cheese on the kitchen counter, would you?" the peep asked.

Seville blinked slowly and looked around.  The mice were all gone.  M1 and The Big Cheese were nowhere to be seen.  No sign of the Grammar Mice, either.

Pushing his head up against the peep's chin, Seville began to purr loudly.  He needed some time to think.  Think about all that he had seen in Mouseland and also to come up with an excuse for having eaten an entire container of Parmesan cheese.  An excuse or better yet, someone else to blame.  Hmmm... If he could track down just one of those mice...  Mice were known for their love of cheese.  Brilliant. "MOUSES!" he squealed with delight.

And as if coming from inside the walls of the house, Seville could hear cries of, "Mice.  The plural of mouse, is mice."

"Darned Grammar Mice," Seville muttered under his breath.  Luckily for him, the peep hadn't heard the mice over the loud noise of his purr.

under the bus

"Pass me the remote there, would you Peepers?  I'm havin' a difficult time fallin' asleep. Need to watch some CPAC."

Settling in on the family room couch and muchin' on a piece of cheese, I slowly drifted off to sleep. CPAC...  Best sleepin' aid ever invented.

"Psst...  Cat.  You asleep?"

I raised one eyebrow.  "I was.  Thanks for wakin' me up, by the way," I answered.

"You're very welcome," replied the mouse, staring me in the eye.

"Actually, I was bein' sarcastic.  I..."

"No time for trivial chit-chat, I'm afraid," interrupted the mouse.  "Your assistance is required." Grabbin' me by my tail, the mouse attempted to haul me off the chesterfield, clearly ignorant of the laws of physics.  No way, no how, was a little ol' mouse gonna have the strength to pull me, Nerissa the Cat, off a piece of furniture.

"Hey!" I yelled at the mouse.  "You wanna watch it there?  I'm comin'.  Just give me a moment to straighten my whiskers."

Bein' familiar with the routine after havin' been visited by these Cheese Consortium mice before, I followed the mouse out of the family room.  I recognised him as M1.  At least I thought he was M1. Truth be told, they all kinda look alike.  We turned the corner and entered what should have been the kitchen but once again, the kitchen had been transformed into a great chamber with rows upon rows upon rows of seats, most of which stood empty.  "Where is everyone?" I asked the mouse.

"They missed the bus."

I looked at the M1, not really understandin' what he was talkin' about.  Did he want me to go lookin' for all the missing mice?  I asked him if that was the reason for calling me in.

"Oh no, there's no need for that.  Absenteeism is quite the norm around here.  One could say it's par for the course."

I nodded in agreement while tryin' to figure out why anyone would be golfin' in Mouseland in the middle of winter.  MOUSES!

"So why am I..."  I stopped dead in my tracks.  "That's new," I whispered under my breath.  I walked to the end of the chamber to inspect the new renovations.  A large revolving glass door had been installed where there had once been a solid brick wall.  On the other side of the rovolving door was the street and on that street were a number of buses, all lined up and with their engines running.  "Don't they have no-idle laws here in Mouseland?" I asked M1.

"Why on Earth would we have those?" was his reply.

"You know, on account of global warmin' and whatnot," I answered.

M1's eyes darted back and forth, looking to see if anyone was listenin'.  "We don't talk about that. The Big Cheese says it doesn't exist.  We've been forbidden to even utter the words."

"MOUSES!" I cried.

A pawful of mice exclaimed in unison, "Mice.  The plural of mouse is mice."

I decided to ignore the grammar mice coalition and, instead, get to the bottom of why I had been summoned.  "Are these the buses all those other mice missed?" I asked.

"No, no..  Don't be silly," chuckled M1. "These buses are waiting for.."

All of a sudden a mouse dressed in suit and tie came scurrin' down the chamber.  Dragging behind him was a briefcase that had been so clumsily shut that pieces of paper were sticking out here and there.  I grabbed one of the papers as he passed.

The mouse darted through the revolving door and out onto the street.  The lead bus began to move, slowly at first but then picking up speed.  For a moment I thought the bus was going to run over the mouse but before I could utter a cry of warning, the mouse instinctively jumped back onto the curve.  The bus sped past, seemingly out of control.  Suddenly a taxi miraculously appeared.  The mouse hopped inside, making his escape.  I strained my ears to hear where they were heading but the only thing I heard the mouse say was something about tires.  Either he was referencing the screeching tires of the bus that had just attempted to mow him down or he was commenting on bein' tired.  Either scenario seemed more than plausible.

I glanced down at the paper I still held in my paw.  It was from the desk of The Big Cheese, himself. Had his logo and everythin'.  Scrawled across it were the words, Top Secret and at the bottom was a reminder to not allow it to get into the paws of the Royal Canadian Mouseland Police.  Quickly scanning the page, I immediately realised it was a memo containing details of Le Grand Fromage Project.  The very same project about which The Big Cheese had previously denied havin' had any knowledge.  And yet this paper came from his office.  From his very own desk.  MOUSES!

I sat back on my haunches and thought for a mo.  Could The Big Cheese be truly unaware of what was goin' on in his very own office?  Could he be so oblivious to the comings and goings of the little mice around him?  Could someone else, smarter and more devious than he, have masterminded this entire affair?

And why were all those buses lined up outside this gigantic revolving glass door?  What were they doin' there and who had ordered 'em up?  And for goodness sake, why did no one have the sense to tell the drivers to turn off their engines while they waited?  Did no one at the Canadian Cheese Consortium understand about global warming?  MOUSES!

There were so many questions and all I had were suppositions and suspicions.  Nothin' that would hold up in court.  My paws were tied.  Tied up with somethin' a whole lot stronger than string cheese.  String cheese...   Mmmm...

"M1," I began, "Why am I here?  Why was I summoned?  Why now?  What is it that you need?"

"There's nothing for you to do at this very moment, Nerissa the Cat," M1 replied.  "But we needed you to bear witness.  We needed you to see what was happening for one day in the coming months, your assistance will most definitely be required."

I finally understood.  Tonight's visit to the Canadian Cheese Consortium was only one piece of the puzzle.  A puzzle being put together by the Royal Canadian Mouseland Police and investigative reportin' cats like me.  I folded over the piece of paper from the fleeing mouse's briefcase, thinking I would read it more thoroughly once back at home.  Perhaps it contained more pieces of the puzzle. Perhaps I could use it to track down that fleeing mouse.  Perhaps...

"Nerissa,"  I heard Peep #1 say. "Nissy, time for bed.  I'm turning off the television.  You can watch CPAC again tomorrow."

I rolled my eyes in disgust.  Did the peep not understand that I was usin' that show to help me fall asleep in the first place?  Why did she have to go and wake me up?  Why?  "MOUSES!" cried I.

I then heard the whispers of a multitude of mice.  "Mice," they all said.  "The plural of mouse, is mice."

Darned grammar mice, I thought to myself, before drifting off back to sleep.  I had a memo to read. Now where did I put that thing?  MOUSES!

psst... CAT!

"Don't mind if I do!" I said, swipin' the piece of cheese out of Rushton's paw and gobbling it down, myself. "You're lactose intolerant, remember? Cheese contains lactose so you're not supposed to eat it.  I'm helpin' you out by takin' that cheese and before you say anything about my bein' lactose intolerant, too, remember that I'm not as intolerant as you."

I watched as my brother stomped away, angrily muttering about degrees of intolerance.  Then it was off' to the family room for me.  Time for a little nip mouse indulgence before bedtime.

"Psst....  CAT!"

"MOUSES!"  Yeah, seriously, right before my eyes there stood a mouse.  There was a mouse in my house.  He was looking at me in a weird kind of way but since he was a mouse, I assumed it to be his natural look.  Rollin' over, I went back to sleep.

"Psst...  CAT!" and I felt someone tugging on my whiskers.  "Wake up, cat.  Your assistance is required."

I opened one eye.  The mouse was still there.  I opened the other eye.  Yup, that mouse wasn't goin' anywhere.  Rising from my favourite napping spot de jour, I let out a big yawn.  The mouse cowered in fear.  Guess he thought I was gonna eat him or somethin'.  Instead, I just asked him what he wanted.

"Do you remember me, Sir?  Nerissa the Cat, Sir?  M1 is my name.  We met last year during all that nastiness regarding the great cheese conspiracy and those issues with the Canadian Cheese Consortium."

I nodded in recollection.  "Yup, I remember that.  You ever deal with that rat, The Big Cheese?"

"He's not a rat," answered M1.  He's really just a mouse like the rest of us although if you were to ask him, he'd probably disagree.  He does think rather highly of himself.  Thinks he's better than the rest of us, you see.  Doesn't realise he's just a mouse like you and me.  Well, like me," and I detected a slight flush of pink spreading across M1's cheeks.

M1 sat down and pulled out a ledger.  Pawing it over, I immediately saw the problem.  "MOUSES! That rat - I mean, mouse - is up to no good.  What's he playin' at now?" I questioned, although truth be told, I already had my answer.  "Take me to The Big Cheese, M1.  He's got some explainin' to do, for sure."

Just as before, M1 led me into my kitchen where space and time had morphed in weird and wonderful ways and the room that had once been the kitchen had turned into a great hall filled with tiny little mouse-sized chairs.  In each chair sat a mouse.  No, wait a minute.  Some of the chairs were empty.  I gazed around the room, counting the empty chairs.  Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen... "MOUSES!" I cried.  "It's true, you are missin' sixteen mice.  Now I just wanna point out that I had nothin' to do with that.  I filled up on cheese before visitin'."

M1 tapped me on the paw.  "Don't worry, Nerissa.  No one is blaming you.  We all know what really happened to the missing mice."

And I knew as well for I had carefully read the ledger M1 had previously shown me.  The missing mice had simply disappeared, one after another.  Some had retired.  Others, resigned.  They all had their reasons for leaving but after leaving, in order to keep the predestined balance of the Consortium...  well...  balanced, those mice should have been replaced.  Apparently, the great hall was experiencing a mouse shortage.  Who knew that was even possible?

I padded softly through the chamber, stopping where I could easily be seen by all.  I flicked my tail and accidentally took out one of the front row seats.  "Sorry 'bout that.  Room's a little small for a cat, if you know what I mean."  A number of mice snickered, nervously.

"Now bring me The Big Cheese," I demanded.

Several mice appeared before me, dragging a gigantic wheel of Gouda.

"Not that big cheese," I cried. "Although...  hold on a minute there.  I'll just have a little bite..."

The mice scattered.

"Not a bite of you.  Mouses you mice are a sensitive lot.  I'll just take a little bite of that cheese."

It was delicious.

Then before me appeared the mouse with the steely blue eyes and exceptionally long tail, otherwise known as The Big Cheese.  He narrowed his eyes and asked, "What do you want, cat?"

"That's Nerissa the Cat, to you, buddy.  We have to have a little talk about the sixteen missing members of the Cheese Consortium.  My question is, why are they missing?"

"You're asking me about missing mice?  Me?  A little ol' mouse?  REALLY?  Shouldn't you be asking your fellow cats where all the mice have gone?"

I lay down before The Big Cheese, striking my very best sphinx pose.  "Cats had nothing to do with those missing mice, my friend.  Don't try playin' cat and mouse games with me.  That's a game that never ends well for the mouse."  I let out a low growl and The Big Cheese looked furtively about the room, looking for somewhere to hide.  I grabbed him by the tail and held on.  The stink of Gorgonzola permeated the air about him.  He seriously needed to start eatin' more Cheddar.

"Now listen up, buddy.  I've seen the ledgers belonging to the Canadian Cheese Consortium and I know what you're doing.  Several of the cheese divisions are lackin' in representation.  I thought you liked appointing members to the Consortium.  Even goin' so far as to appoint mice who weren't even qualified to represent the divisions they were supposed to be representin'."

"That's true, I did.  But that was then and this is now.  Unfortunately, some of the mice I appointed caused some trouble.  So I thought to myself, why appoint any at all?  Things in the Consortium are going very nicely for me.  They're running quite smoothly.  Gorgonzola production is up.  Means of transporting the Gorgonzola are being worked out.  No one here has even tried to stop me.  The Consortium is working exactly as it should."

I narrowed my eyes and stared directly at the little mouse known as The Big Cheese.  "We talked about this the last time I visited, remember?  The Consortium doesn't serve you.  It serves the mice of Mouseland.  All of them.  Not just the Gorgonzola lovers.  Without equal representation, the Consortium cannot possibly work as it should.  It cannot and is not.  Somethin' needs to be done about that."

The Big Cheese narrowed his eyes and peered right at me.  Pompously puffing out his chest he said, "The Consortium is working exactly as I wish for it to work."

That's when I realised that what M1 had said earlier was true.  The Big Cheese had begun to think far too highly of himself.  He was nothin' more than a mouse and yet, for some reason, he thought he was the chosen one or somethin'.  Like he was better than the rest of the mice.  Clearly, The Big Cheese had gone squirrely.  I watched as he stuffed some more Gorgonzola into his mouth.

"Listen up, mouse," I began.  "I'm puttin' you on notice.  That's right, I, Nerissa the Cat, am puttin' you, The Big Cheese, on notice.  Either you make sure that all four divisions of the Canadian Cheese Consortium are represented equally or I will make it happen, myself."

"What are you going to do, cat?  Take over the Consortium?" and The Big Cheese grinned.

"It's a thought," I replied.  Our eyes met.  "If cats were to take over the Canadian Cheese Consortium..."

The Big Cheese tried to step back but I still had hold of his tail.  "Cats can't..." he sputtered.

"Cats can't what, Mr. Cheese?"

The Big Cheese cowered.

"Like I said, either you make sure all four divisions of the Consortium are fairly and equally represented or I will make it happen, for you."  Letting go of his tail, I turned to leave but not before adding, "And do somethin' about your breath, would you?  You're stinkin' of cheese.  MOUSES!"

"Mice," I heard, whispered in unison as those darned grammar mice of the great hall explained, "The plural of mouse, is mice."

MOUSES!

gotta stop eatin' cheese

Do I or don't I?  Hmmm...  No.  I shouldn't.   I turned my back to the plate of cheese on the kitchen counter. On the other paw...

Snatchin' a piece of cheese in my mouth, I jumped down from the counter before the peeps discovered I had been up there.

I set the piece of cheese down on the floor.  This was clearly a situation that necessitated a sober, second thought.

As a cat, thievery was not beneath me. No, a little thievery done in moderation was actually quite cat-like.  But the eating of cheese...  That was somethin' else, entirely.  I thought back to the cheese-snackin' induced dream I once had in which I met The Big Cheese himself, not to mention a whole bunch of other mice instructin' me on the plural form of mouse.  MOUSES!  Dare I risk another dream like that?  

Do I?  Don't I?  Hmmm...    Don't I?  Do I?  Well...  it was a very intererestin' dream...

I scarfed down the piece of cheese, washed my face with a paw and trotted back into the family room, settling in for a little nap.

It wasn't long before I sensed a pair of eyes watchin' me.  I opened one eye of my own and saw, starin' back at me, a mouse.  MOUSES!

"Er-hrm...   Nerissa?  Nerissa the Cat, Sir?  Remember me?  We met a few months ago.  M1 is the name," and the mouse extended a paw.  "We're in need of your assistance, once more."

I got up and followed the mouse into that great, red hall just as I had in my dream, once before. "The Great Canadian Cheese Conspiracy not settled, yet?" I asked the mouse.

"Actually, no," admitted little M1.  "The Royal Canadian Mouseland Police are still investigating that but we have another issue at paw.  An even greater one than before.  The very fabric of our society is at risk!"

"MOUSES!" I cried.

As I expected I would, I heard a small voice, echoing within the chamber, "Mice.  The plural of mouse, is mice."  Those darned grammar mice, I thought.

I stared at the many mice before me, looking for the one they called The Big Cheese.  Sure enough, there he was, chowing down on a chunk of Gorgonzola.  The ripe aroma tickled my nose and I sneezed.  Gosh that was stinky stuff.

As in my previous dream with the mice, the details at paw mysteriously and magically appeared in my mind.  I immediately knew of the troubles facing The Big Cheese and the mice working in the great hall.  I sat down, lifted a leg and began to wash my tail-end.

Finished with my washing, I looked around at the mice.  They all stared back at me with the exception of The Big Cheese who was still eating his Gorgonzola.  Finally, he looked up at me with those steely blue eyes.  "It's you," he said.

"Yes, it is I," I replied.  "Causing trouble once more, are we?"

The Big Cheese narrowed his eyes.  "It is not I making the trouble.  It's the mice.  Mice across the the land are complaining.  I keep telling them what they think but they're not listening.  Instead, they're complaining," he explained.

"Umm....  yeah....  'bout that," I began. "Let me just get this straight.  As the Big Cheese, you're expected to appoint mice to the Canadian Cheese Consortium, making sure there are always one hundred and five mice at any one time, correct?"  I waved away his response, "Don't bother answering 'til I finish.  You've been makin' appointments to the Consortium but at the very same time, you've been questioning the need for the Consortium in the first place, correct?  You've actually been tellin' the mice of the land that none of them want the Consortium, either.  And yet you continue to appoint appointees, most of whom appear to be your friends."

I stared pointedly at The Big Cheese, waitin' for a response.  He just sat there, eatin' more stinky cheese.

"Okay...." I began once more.  "From what I understand, the appointees to the Canadian Cheese Consortium are supposed to represent the various types of cheese bein' manufactured, sold and eaten by mice throughout the land.  They're supposed to represent the hard, semi-hard, semi-soft and soft cheese divisions, equally.  The Consortium was designed in this manner over a century ago to make sure that all types of cheese manufactured were bein' treated fairly and equally.  So that the most popular types didn't take over the whole Consortium, wreakin' havoc across Mouseland."

The Big Cheese continued to eat his stinky cheese.

"Yes, yes!" the other mice piped up in unison.  "That's how it works, exactly.  We can't have one cheese division takin' over the entire Consortium.  The only way to safeguard the rights of the less-eaten cheeses, is to allow them equal representation in the Consortium!"

The Big Cheese stopped chewin' on his cheese and glared at the mice around him.  "I get to appoint whomever I like to the Consortium.  I'M THE BIG CHEESE.  If I want to appoint all Gorgonzola lovers to the Consortium, I'm allowed to do just that.  It's kind of a tradition."

"Ah yes," I interrupted, "but you're havin' troubles with the Cheddar and Mozzarella factions, are you not?"

"Only because I haven't yet appointed enough of the Gorgonzolas!" cried The Big Cheese.

"MOUSES!  Can't you see what's wrong?" I asked The Big Cheese.  "First of all, you can't go around tellin' all the other mice what they think.  That's gonna cause nothin' but trouble."

"Secondly," I continued, "You have factions within the Consortium who appear to be workin' in ways they shouldn't be workin'.  The appointees are supposed to be representin' the various divisions of cheese.  They are NOT supposed to be representin' you!  And yet you continue to appoint Gorgonzola lovers to the Consortium, knowin' full well you're only appointin' your pals 'cause they all love Gorgonzola like you!"

"But that's what has always been done," and for just a moment, I thought I saw The Big Cheese falter.

"BUT THAT'S NOT WHAT WAS MEANT TO BE DONE!" I cried.

"Luckily for you,"  I told The Big Cheese, "I have a solution.  Why don't you let the leaders of each cheese division choose whom you should appoint.  They know best who would be able to represent them.  Ask them for suggestions and then you appoint whomever they suggest.  I'm sure there will be some Gorgonzola lovers in the bunch but there will also be some Cheddar and Mozzarella lovers, too.  You'll have a nice balance and they'll be representin' the mice they're supposed to represent. What's more, if there any problems," I added in a low voice, "you can always pawn the blame off on the divisional mice who made the suggestions."

"But if I don't appoint my friends to the Consortium, how can I guarantee that they'll do what I tell them to do?" asked The Big Cheese.

"Well...  Well you can't but really, that's the whole point of my suggestion," I answered with a sigh.

The Big Cheese stuffed another chunk of Gorgonzola into his mouth and with a cheese-chewin' muffled voice said, "THAT DOESN'T WORK FOR ME AT ALL."

With a cry of frustration I yelled, "MOUSES!"

I turned to the other mice and explained, "I'm afraid I can't do anythin' with him.  He's just not listenin'."

"Watch what you're saying there, cat," growled The Big Cheese.

I have got to stop eatin' cheese, I thought to myself.  Any more cheese-induced dreams like this and I'll drive myself silly.  MOUSES!

Awaking with a start I thought I heard a small voice off in the distance sayin', "Mice.  The plural form of mouse, is mice."

MOUSES!!!