out all over

Well THAT'S a whole hour of one of my nine lives I'll never get back again.

MOUSES!

HEY PEEPERS!  Why didn't you tell me there was some kinda global Facebook outage yesterday mornin'?  WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?

'Cause you didn't know, you say?  Huh, makes sense, I suppose.  There's a whole lotta stuff you don't know.

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, I, like millions of other cats who spend most of their waking hours on-line, postin' cute pictures and videos of themselves, and blabbin' to the world 'bout all the stupid and embarrassin' stuff their peeps do...

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

Do too.  I do too post 'bout all the stupid stuff you do.  My blog is like an on-line tell all book, you know.

MOUSES!

So anyway, as I was sayin' before bein' so rudely interrupted, I was about to tell you all 'bout what happened yesterday when I tried to log into Facebook.

Oh quit your gripin', Woman.  It's not my fault you don't know how I blog 'bout all the stupid stuff you do.  If you read my blog more often, you WOULD know.  Try to stay informed, there, Peepers.  Try to stay informed.

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, back to yesterday mornin'.  I'd been surfin' the net for a bit, lookin' for videos of cute ladycats over on Twitter - yes, I still call it that - when I figured it was time to check in on Facebook.

Well!

Well, first they wanted me to log in.  Of course, I figured the peep must have accidentally logged me out, which annoyed me to no end.  I'm a busy cat, you see, and don't have time to waste loggin' in every time I wanna check in on Facebook.

So I typed in my password, WORLDSVERYBESTKITTY, but Facebook wouldn't accept it.  Said it was an old password, or somthin' like that.  Hmm...

So, of course, I figured the peep had gone and changed my password without tellin' me.

Of all the nerve.

MOUSES!

Would I like to reset my password, Facebook asked.

I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS KINDA NONSENSICAL CRAP! I yelled, but of course, Mark Zuckerberg couldn't hear me on account of my not bein' able to log into Facebook.

MOUSES!

FINE.  Send me a numerical code so I can reset my password, I said.  Yeah, yeah, I'll keep an eye on my inbox.

So I waited.

And waited.

AND WAITED.

But alas, nothin' arrived.

So I tried once again.

Still no stupid code.

MOUSES!

After 'bout an hour or so, I had to give up.  I was feelin' a tad peckish, you see, and when I'm feelin' a little peckish, I sometimes get a wee bit cranky, and...

KEEP YOUR RIDICULOUS OPINIONS TO YOURSELF, WOMAN!  I DIDN'T ASK FOR 'EM, YOU KNOW.

Imagine that, Peepers is squabblin' about my use of the words "wee bit."

MOUSES!

SO ANYWAY...

So anyway, I went into the kitchen for a snack and then figured a nap was in order.  That whole Facebook business had been super exhaustin', for sure.  Frustratin', too, as after all that hard work, I STILL wasn't any closer to gettin' back into Facebook.

Well!

Well after my very well-earned nap, I decided to head on back to Twitter.  And that's when I discovered...

When I discovered...

That's when I discovered, Facebook was out pretty much all over the place.

So it wasn't Peepers' fault, after all.

This time.

But word on the street is, kitties broke into one of the Facebook server farms, thinkin' that as a farm, it might be some kinda giant nip plantation, which would make total sense considerin' the number of cats with fan pages and the like on the platform.  I mean, it would be a great side line, right?  Facebook could be usin' one of these farms to grow their own supply of the nip for all of the cats postin' cute videos of themselves.  Besides, what else - other than nip - would you want to grow on a farm?  But when these kitties who had all been imbibing in copious amounts of the nip on their way to the server farm, arrived there only to find out that server farms aren't real farms...  Well suffice it to say, a whole horde of nipped-up kitties lookin' for more catnip is NOT somethin' you wanna mess with.

Long story short: GLOBAL FACEBOOK OUTAGE.

Methinks it might be time for Mr Zuckerberg to invest in a catnip plantation, after all.

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.

public service announcement

The followin' is a public service announcement, paid for by...

By uh...

Hmmm...

Hey Peepers!  You willin' to toss a few toonies my way to pay for this here pubic service announcement, I'm makin'?

No?

Hmph.

MOUSES!

Well how 'bout one tooney, then?

A looney?

Maybe a quarter or two?

Still no?  Still?

Well then, uh...

I know!  A few treats.  I'm sure you can spare a few treats.  Bonus treats, we'll call 'em

What do you MEAN you just gave me treats?  What do you MEAN?

Oh yeah.

MOUSES!

Er-hmm.  The followin' is a public service announcement.  APPARENTLY, it's totally free.

Paid for by no one but me.

MOUSES!

And now for the announcement:  Okay kitties out there.  Kitties and doggies and ferrets and anyone else to whom this might pertain.  Do you have a fan page on Facebook?  You do?  Well if so, please be aware there are scammers out to get us four-legged social media stars.  Scammers like the "Restricted Account Information" and the "Business Account Maintenance Standards" pages.  These are NOT real pages, my friends.  They're fake.  Fake as fake can be.  Fake as the diamonds on a burlesque dancer's short dress.

NEVER MIND HOW I KNOW 'BOUT BURLESQUE DANCERS' ATTIRE.

MOUSES!

But back to the business at paw.  These SCAMMERS are taggin' hundreds of pages, pretendin' to represent Facebook and/or META security and whatnot.  They tag you in a post and say that if you don't click on the link they provide within 24 hours or five days or the like, you'll lose all access to your fan page.

Whatever you do, DO NOT CLICK.

Now I don't actually know what will happen if you do click on their links 'cause I never have, but rest assured, IT'S GONNA BE BAD.

MOUSES!

Instead of clickin' on their links, report 'em and block 'em.   Report and block.  REPORT and BLOCK.  That's the best thing to do.  

Report 'em!

BLOCK 'EM!

Do what I say AND do what I do.

MOUSES!

This mornin', I awoke to a notification from one of these scammers who had tagged my fan page.  Another notification.  The THIRD one in less than three weeks!  And I'm sick and tired of this nonsense.  Sick and tired, to be sure.

So remember, my pals, if your fan page gets tagged by one of these scammers, you know what to do: REPORT 'em and BLOCK 'em and if you happen to find their actual address...

Well...

Well used kitty litter makes a wonderful gift.

Really WELL used kitty litter, that is.

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.

'twas I

It was me.

Or should that be I...

Hmmm...  I know!  *snaps claws*  'TWAS I.

I like that.  Yup, I like that a lot.  Makes me sound all super smart and stuff, it does.

'TWAS I!

MOUSES!

Hey Peepers!  If Zuckerberg calls back, tell him I'm not in, would ya?

What do MEAN he's on the other line?  What do you MEAN?

Oh for mousin' out loud.

MOUSES!

Hey Marky!  Marky Baby, how have you been?

Yeah, I know we were just talkin' a few minutes ago.  Don't know how we got disconnected.  Must have been a bad line...

Or maybe my paw accidentally slipped causin' me to hang up.

MOUSES!

So Marky Baby...  Where were we, huh?

Oh yeah.

Uh-huh, uh-huh...

Yeah, yeah, millions of users...  No, HUNDREDS of millions, you say.

Figures.

MOUSES!

So um...  So how come you're callin' me?

Yeah, I KNOW I accepted responsibility for the mass Facebook outage the other day.  But in my own defense...

Umm...

Well that was just somethin' I said over on Twitter.

Well OF COURSE I didn't admit to bein' responsible on Facebook.  Facebook was down, remember?  I couldn't log on.

Sometimes it's hard to believe this guy is actually in charge over there.

MOUSES!

So like I said, how come you're callin' me?

Again.

MOUSES!

Uh-huh, uh-huh...  Yeah, you already mentioned the hundreds of millions of users who were impacted.  All 'round the globe...  Yeah, yeah, in practically every country....  Okay, I've got it now, Marky-poo.  Lots of people were upset, and they're all complainin' to you, and... 

But...  But again, I've gotta ask: how come you're callin' ME?

Oh.

You did, huh?  You actually DID trace that ol' outage back to me?

Hmmm...

Well...

Well...

Well have you looked at Facebook lately, Zuckerberg, my man?  I mean, have you actually REALLY LOOKED?  REALLY AND TRULY LOOKED?  Like looked long and hard?  'Cause if you have, you'll notice there are a whole lotta cats over on Facebook usin' it every single day.  Every single hour.  Every minute, in fact!  We cats have got fan pages and profiles and memes all about us, and...

And...

And cats have a way of makin' mischief, you see.  A slip of the paw here...  A flick of the tail there...  Some loose fur drifts down into the computer and gets into where it shouldn't be gettin', and...

BAMM!

So it's like this, Marky, my man: You've gotta make Facebook cat-proof, you see.  You've gotta make your product able to handle the antics of us cats!

EVERY THINK ABOUT THAT?

It's no wonder they're all upset at you.

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.

fifty weeks

Mouses, it's been a long time.

Fifty weeks.  FIFTY.  Fifty. Whole. Weeks.

Or in other words, twenty-seven million, two hundred and sixteen thousand cat seconds.

MOUSES!

Yup, that's how long I've been stuck here with the peeps.

And in OTHER news...

You know those quizzes they have on Facebook and stuff?  You know the ones.  Peeps play 'em all the time.  You click on the quiz to play, and it'll tell you what you're gonna be when you grow up, what your name means, who you should marry...

You know, that sorta stuff.

Well ol' Peepers decided to play one today.  It was all about identifyin' your celebrity look alike.

Guess who the peep looks like.

Come on, take a guess.  Take a wild guess.  See is you can figure it out.

Give up?

Wise decision, my friend, 'cause let me tell you, you're NEVER gonna get this one right.

Peepers' celebrity lookalike is...

Is...

IS...

Are you sittin' down?

GOLLUM.

Yup, that's right.  Apparently, Peepers looks like that ugly little, once hobbity creature, from the Lord of the Rings.

MOUSES!

All I can say is, THIS SELF-ISOLATIN' QUARANTININ' PANDEMIC STUFF HAS BEEN HARDER ON THE PEEP'S LOOKS THAN I THOUGHT.

The face that SANK a thousand ships.

MOUSES!

And to think, Peepers uses my late brother Nissy's picture as her profile pic.

Guess you can see why.

BWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

MOUSES!

My precious...  My precious....

You know, Peepers does get a certain crazed gleam in her eye when she spots a cat.

MY PRECIOUS...

BWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

Good thing I don't get that same crazed look when I see a nip mouse.

MOUSES!

But all jokin' aside...

I'M JUST GLAD I DON'T ALLOW PEEPERS TO USE MY PICTURE FOR HER PROFILE PIC.  I mean, if they were lookin' at MY picture and said she looks like Gollum, I'd be kinda insulted by that.  It's bad enough they saw some kinda similarity between Nissy's picture and Gollum, but MINE?

WELL I'D HAVE TO BE DOIN' SOMETHING 'BOUT THAT.

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 nerve

Oh. My. Mouses.

Of all the nerve.

I can't BELIEVE she did that.

Arrrggggghhhhhh!

MOUSES!

I know, I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin', what has the peep done now?


Well to be honest, on ANY OTHER given day, your question would be totally valid.

Any other day?  Heck, what am I sayin'?  Any other time of day is more like it, 'cause let me tell you somethin', the peep does moused-up stuff, multiple times, EVERY day of the week.  I know.  I live with her, you see.

MOUSES!

But in this particular case, it is not the peep with whom I am annoyed.

Did I say annoyed?  I MEANT to say, bothered.  And insulted.  And even a little...  Hmmm...  Angry, I do believe.

MOUSES!

So this is what happened to me this past week:

Those of you who follow me on Facebook might be aware of the thoughtless, hurtful, and nasty comment someone left on my fan page.  It was awful.  It made both the peep and me feel really, really horrible, so...

So I replied to said comment, tellin' this person how what she said was not helpful in the least.  How it could serve no purpose but to make my peeps feel sad.

And then, in a second comment...

I corrected her grammar.

Oh, I'm not apologising for that.  Oh no sirree.  It had to be done, you see, because her grammar was atrocious, to say the least.  Bad enough to get her a six by nine foot cell in Grammar Jail, for sure.

MOUSES!

But then I had second thoughts.  I wondered if maybe I should simply delete the comment and ban the woman from my fan page.  That way, neither I nor the peep would ever have to deal with her again, AND she wouldn't be embarrassed by havin' had her grammar corrected by a cat.  'Cause some peeps take offence to that.

MOUSES!

So I went back to the post, and do you know what I found?

NOTHIN'.  Nothin' at all.

MOUSES!

So of course, I figured she had seen the errors of her ways, and taken her comment down.

But then....

But then, I found out through a pal, the comment was still there for all to see.  All but ME.

Do you know what she had done?

SHE. HAD. BLOCKED. ME.

That's right, my friends.  She had blocked ME, Seville the Cat.  

MOUSES!

Of all the lousy, good-for-nothin', Poopy Panty PeePs.

MOUSES!

I had been robbed.  ROBBED, I tell you.  Robbed of the opportunity to block that cruel and heartless peep.  There I was, all set to block her, ONLY TO DISCOVER she had blocked ME!

MOUSES!

So...

So I dug in my claws, and...

Yeah, yeah...  Sorry 'bout that, Peepers.  I know I was sittin' on your lap at the time, but I had to dig my claws into SOMETHIN'.

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, I have her name, rank, and serial...

Okay, so maybe I don't.  Maybe all I actually have is her name, but if she ever comes back, she had best watch out for a certain marmalade cat.

'Cause we marmies, we don't get mad.

OH NO...

We marmalade cats don't get mad at all.

Instead, we much prefer...

To get even.

MOUSES!

stupid

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

STUPID, STUPID, STUPID.

STUPID.

MOUSES!

This is so stupid.

I know, I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin', somethin' has gotten Seville the Cat all riled up.  Somethin' has gotten his knickers in a twist.  SOMETHIN' has made Seville the Cat put on a pair of knickers, just so he could twist 'em.

And you know what?

What you're thinkin' is exactly right.

MOUSES!

It all started early this mornin' when Peep #1 fired up the ol' computer for me, so that I could check my social media and stuff, then do the finishin' touches on Part I of my new adventure.

That's right!  My adventure is all set...

Scratch that.

My new adventure WAS all set to air today.

But then the stupid stuff happened.

MOUSES!

Well the peep fired up the ol' computer and I went straight to my fan page on Facebook.

Scratch that.

The peep fired up the ol' computer and I TRIED to go straight to my fan page on Facebook.

BUT FACEBOOK WOULDN'T LET ME LOG IN.

MOUSES!

I tried and I tried and I tried.  I tried like five million and twenty-nine times.

SERIOUSLY, I did.

Okay, so maybe I didn't.  Maybe it was only like five million and twenty-eight times, I tried.  But however many times it actually was, it was a really lot of times.

And it was all to no avail.

*sighs*

So then I got the peep to access her timeline, and do you know what?

SHE COULDN'T LOG IN, EITHER.

MOUSES!

We can't even report the problem to Facebook, 'cause in order to report a problem, YOU'VE GOTTA BE ON FACEBOOK TO REPORT IT.

How so very stupid.

MOUSES!

So we reported it to 'em on Twitter, instead.

Haven't heard anythin' back yet, though.

*sighs*

FINALLY, I said to myself, "SCREW THIS!  Today is publishin' day.  I need to finish up the editin' of Part 1 of my latest adventure, and then the peep needs to piZap me up some pictures, so that I can publish."

Well...

Well it turns out, we can't log into piZap, either.

MOUSES!

At least we can't get into our professional account with the added little extras.  You know the ones.  The little extras that makin' peein' and zappin' easier, and makes the pictures so much more fun.

AND I CAN'T HAVE AN ADVENTURE WITHOUT PICTURES.

MOUSES!

We think we used to access our piZap account through Facebook.

MOUSES!

So long story short....

Yeah, yeah, I know...   Kinda late for makin' this short, but...

But anyway, that's why I'm not startin' my adventure today.  THAT'S why, instead, I'm just postin' this stupid post 'bout how stupid Facebook is bein' all stupid and stuff.  THAT'S why I'm takin' this moment to just sit here and complain about things that are stupid.

Hmmph!

So that's how my day went today.  How was yours?

MOUSES!

play nice

You ever notice how...

How peeps expect us cats to play nicely together, and yet...

And yet...

Perhaps I should start at the beginnin'.

So the other day, I was out there in the garden tendin' my baby catnip plants.  You know, watering 'em, feeding 'em, giving 'em some LOVE, makin' sure my fur-sibs WEREN'T lovin' on 'em...  That sort of thing.  So I was out there tendin' my garden when I noticed that a few of my precious baby catnip plants were missin' some leaves.

My first thought was, "MOUSES!"

My second thought was "MOUSES!", too!

My third thought was...

"WHO THE MOUSES HAS BEEN EATIN' MY CATNIP?"

Okay, so those weren't really thoughts, per se.  They were more like what I yelled out loud for all the neighbours to hear.

Well...

Well when none of the neighbours came runnin' to confess, I knew I had a problem on my paws, for sure.  There was one of two things goin' on, and neither was good.  The first possibility was that my fur-sibs were hosting nip and cheese parties out in my back yard.  The second possibility was some kinda insect had taken a likin' to the nip.

What was a gardenin' kitty to do?

MOUSES!

I figured that if the damage was bein' done by my fur-sibs, a few well-placed smacky-paws would likely do the trick.  But if there were bugs eatin' my plants...

Well...

WELL...

OH MY MOUSES, WHAT WAS A GARDENIN' KITTY TO DO?

So I thought about it for a bit and the answer came to me, lickety-split.

"I know!" I cried.  "I'll do what peeps do.  I'll join a kitty gardenin' group on Facebook.  MOUSES!"

Turns out, there are no Facebook groups for cats who grow the nip.

Can you believe it?

MOUSES!

So I checked out a few of the non-nip gardenin' groups for peeps.

Well let me tell you somethin', my friends, it was like wadin' through a hornets' nest after takin' a dip in a bowl full of honey, for sure.

MOUSES!

You know, you'd think a bunch of dirt diggin' peeps would know how to behave themselves.

Well think again, my friends.  THINK AGAIN.

It was worse than that time I saw a doggy at the doggy park steal another doggy's softball.

Those peeps do NOT know how to play nicely, at all.

MOUSES!

Judge Jude would have a HAY DAY with 'em, for sure.

And if my fur-sibs and I were to behave like those peeps, MY peeps would be runnin' around, lockin' us up in separate rooms.

MOUSES!

You know, I'd SAY they were behavin' like animals, but...

But as a cat, I WOULD TAKE OFFENCE TO THAT.

MOUSES!

Just because one peep does somethin' differently from another peep, it doesn't that mean said peep HAS to go 'round tellin' all the other peeps they're stupid and stuff.

If somebody should be tellin' peeps they're stupid, it should be me.  You know, on account of my bein' a cat.

MOUSES!

And let me tell you somethin' else: There AREN'T ENOUGH smacky-paws to go around, to smacky-paw enough sense into those peeps for them to find their way into adulthood.

MOUSES!

And let me tell you ANOTHER thing, too.

Remember those missin' nip leaves on my baby nip plants?  You know the ones.  The ones that had gone missin'.

Well...

Well it turns out...

Turns out, those were the leaves I uh...

Ummm...  

Well...

Well those were the leaves that I, Seville the Cat, had been um...

Been nibblin' upon the day before.

You know...  QUALITY CONTROL.

I had kinda forgotten 'bout that.

MOUSES!

PS.  After snoopin' around those Facebook groups and listenin' to a myriad of peeps bickerin' with one another, I think I'm gonna have to do a little MORE nibblin'...

I mean, QUALITY CONTROLIN', for sure.

MOUSES!

lies, lies.. all of them, LIES!

Of all the moused-up, mousin', no good for nothin', rascally rascals...

Awww....  MOUSES!

LOCK HIM UP!  I say.

LOCK HIM UP!

That darned, moused-up weasel...

I mean, RODENT.

I MEAN, GROUNDHOG.

LOCK HIM UP.

I'm tellin' ya, that ol' Shubenacadie Sam has some serious answerin' to do.

MOUSES!

It was less than two months ago, when there he was, spoutin' his lies, all over the Internet.  "I didn't see my shadow," he said.  "It's gonna be an early spring, for sure."

Lies, lies...  ALL OF THEM, LIES!

The very ePitome of FaKe News, for sure.

MOUSES!

And now, here we are, at the END of March, well past the official start of spring...

And where is our spring, you ask?

Well I can tell you where it isn't.  It most certainly isn't here.

MOUSES!

But do you know what is?  Do you know what is here, my friends?

I'll tell ya what's here.  I'll tell you what's outside.  I'll tell you what's outside, for sure.


SNOW.

Now in what universe does a kitty associate spring, with snow?

MOUSES!

And not only is there snow, it's even kinda cold outside.

MOUSES!

And what does that rascally rabbit...

I mean, VARMINT...

I MEAN, GROUNDHOG, have to say?  What is Shubenacadie Sam sayin' about his false forecasting 'bout an early spring?

Just because I SAID there'd be an early spring, you didn't have to believe me.

Yup, that's an exact quote, for sure.

I have it on tape, and everythin'.

MOUSES!

Oh how quickly his tune has changed from only a mere few weeks ago.

You believed me because you WANTED to believe me, Seville.  You WANTED an early spring.  Never once did I FORCE you to believe it would actually happen.

MOUSES!

And I CERTAINLY never made you repeat what I said.

Sam, what the mouses do you think the share button is for?

It's like ol' Shubie was sittin' down in his Mama Nature's basement, sluggin' back the nip - or whatever varmints take - just Makin' up FanciFul, Fictional Forecasts for Sale.

MOUSES!


Well!  Well I know what I'll do.  I know what I'll do, for sure.  The NEXT time I want a weather forecast, I'll...

I'll...

I'LL...

Oh for the love of mouses, I honestly don't know WHAT I'll do.  I could listen to the weatherpeeps, I suppose, but they're not really known for havin' accurate forecastin' abilities, either.

MOUSES!

did you hear?

Oh my mouses!

OH MY MOUSES!

Did you hear?

Accordin' to the CBC, the Canada Revenue Agency is now creepin' around Facebook, lookin' to see if peeps are payin' their income tax.

On everyone's mind is... HOW IS THIS GONNA AFFECT ME?

Scratch that.

On everyone's mind is...  HOW IS THIS GONNA AFFECT SEVILLE THE CAT?

I mean, am I, Seville the Cat, gonna have to stop postin' about my investment fund?  You know the one.  My froggy bank.  The froggy bank where I keep my money.  You know, the money I'm savin' up to invest in nip futures and the like.

There could be CRA peeps searchin' Facebook right now.  Searchin' and searchin' and SEARCHIN', lookin' to see if I'm payin' my taxes.  If I'm makin' a little money on the side.  If I'm spendin' more on nip than I've declared that I've even earned.

And if these CRA peeps are goin' around, readin' my page...

Well I sure do hope they take the time to paw me a like.  MOUSES!

Hmmm...

Just to be on the safe side, I had best make up some alternative facts.

I mean, dig up some dirt...

No, I mean, spread a few...

I mean...

Oh what the mouses.  I'm not sure WHAT I mean!  MOUSES!

Hmmm....

Of course, everyone is up in arms 'bout all this stuff. Oh yeah.  They're sayin' that what they post on Facebook is private, and meant only for family and friends, and how the CRA shouldn't be allowed to read it and...

Well I've got news for them.  NOTHIN' you post on Facebook is ever private.  NOTHIN' AT ALL!  Once you post it on-line, it's on-line FOREVER.

This is why I don't post pictures of myself diggin' through the trash, peein' on bushes, or washin' my bum in public.  MOUSES!

Not that I ever do do any of those things.

Do do...  Doo-doo...  Hehehehee...

Anyway, the bottom line is, if you don't want the whole world to know, don't post it on Facebook. MOUSES!

But back to the issue at paw.

Tell me, do you think I should put a big ol' post up on my page, lettin' the Canada Revenue Agency know that even though I've been savin' up for those nip futures, for a VERY LONG TIME, I have yet to save enough to buy any?

And, do you think I should put a big ol' post up on my page, lettin' the Canada Revenue Agency know that the reason I haven't saved up enough money in my froggy bank to buy any nip futures isn't 'cause nip futures are really expensive, but rather, 'cause I haven't saved up very much?   After all, my only source of income is an occasional quarter or two I find under a chesterfield cushion, and the money the peeps give me when they return bottles.

Oh, and then there was that time when I went on-line and sold Peep #1's...

Ummm...  Never mind.

But do you think I should put a big ol' post up on my page, lettin' the Canada Revenue Agency know that even when I do eventually save up enough money for some nip futures, I'm not quite sure what nip futures even are?

Should I point out to those CRA peeps that even though I am a highly intellectual cat, with sole ownership of the world rights to eggbeater-whisk time travelling teleportation technology, I..

WAIT A MINUTE....

Wait a mousie mousin' mouses minute.

I'm a cat.

AND CATS DON'T PAY INCOME TAX.

MOUSES!

Well, well, well...  Turns out, this stuff isn't gonna affect me at all, and do you know what?  I'm okay with that.

on-line etiquette

OH.  MY.  MOUSES.   MOUSES!

Blah blah blah blah, blah blah blah blah blah, blah blah blah, blah blah, blah blah. And your point?

MY POINT WAS NOT...

Yes it was.

No it wasn't.

Yes it was.

No it wasn't.

Yes it was.

No it wasn't.

Yes it was.

No it wasn't.

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

FIVE.  HOURS.  LATER.  MOUSES!

Yes it was.

No it wasn't.

Yes it was.

OH MY MOUSES!   IT REALLY WASN'T.  MY POINT REALLY WASN'T THAT AT ALL.  I NEVER EVEN MENTIONED THAT BUT LET ME TELL YOU, I NOW HAVE A TOTALLY NEW POINT TO MAKE.  MOUSES!

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

Okay, so truth be told, the above Facebook conversation(s) actually ended after the very first yes it was, but that was only because Peep #1 had the good sense to walk away.  As for that other guy, I'm pretty sure he's still waiting to say, "YES IT WAS!"  You know, 'cause that's what guys like that say.  MOUSES!

Let me explain from the beginning.

This morning, Peep #1 made a comment on a friend's timeline and before she knew it, some guy she didn't even know was taggin' her and puttin' words in her mouth...

I mean that figuratively, of course.  There were no actual words bein' stuffed in the peep's mouth.

...and tellin' her what her point was, even though that was never her point at all, and she never even mentioned the stuff he was talking about and... and... and everything!  Can you believe it?  MOUSES!

But like I said, the peep had the good sense to simply walk away.  Yup, 'cause that's what you have to do in cases like this.  Just walk away.  MOUSES!

Of course, as a cat, I've never walked away from a fight in my life.  No sirree, I never walk away.  I give 'em the smacky paws, THEN RUN LIKE THE DICKENS.

I am, of course, not referring to Charles Dickens.  I have no idea whether he was a fast runner or not.

But being a cat who is not shy of smacky-pawing those who deserve a good smacky-paw, I took it upon myself to help out my peep.  Of course, smacky-pawing this guy on Facebook was never really an option on account of neither the peep nor I knowing where he lives - or how quickly he can run - so I decided to do a figurative smacky-pawing, for sure.

Well...  Best I could come up with was to report about the situation right here on my blog. MOUSES!

Now that that's done...

But I do want to add how VERY PROUD I am of Peep #1 to follow proper on-line etiquette and simply walk away, without continuing an argument on her pal's timeline, because even when you're right about something, picking fights on other peoples' timelines is just plain ol' rude, you know?  Of course you do.  MOUSES!

Had the peep not walked away, one thing might have led to another and then before anyone knew it, they'd be whippin' out their tails to see whose was the longest and...

GOTCHA!  HA-HA!  Peep #1 doesn't have a tail.  I have no idea 'bout that other guy though. MOUSES!

And thank goodness no one said what I was thinkin' one of 'em might say...

I know you are, but what am I?

Thankfully, nobody said that.  That would have been pretty childish, for sure.  MOUSES!

Peep #1 said instead, "He may be a friend of a friend, but he's definitely no friend of mine.  MOUSES!"

Yup, she said the mouses part and everything.

So that's what happened here at my house this morning.  I'm hoping we never hear back from that guy from Facebook again but if we do, I shall introduce Peep #1 to my pal, the delete and block manoeuvre.  The delete and block manoeuvre is a great manoeuvre, for sure.  MOUSES!

let me tell you

Let me tell you about my peep.  This morning, Peep #1 updated her Facebook status with a comment that really took me by surprise.

Yeah, I know.  What's taking all of you by surprise is that the peep is on Facebook. It sometimes surprises me, too. Surprises me she's allowed over there as let's face it, she's just not all that interesting.  Unlike me, of course.

As you might have guessed, the peep's uninteresting nature is why she doesn't have a fan page as I do.  She doesn't have a fan page like me because she's not famous or anything.

Infamous, maybe..  Nah, just kidding. Bottom line is, the peep doesn't have a fan page because she doesn't have any fans. No need for a fan page when you're fanless, you know?  Of course you do. MOUSES!

What's that, Peepers?  Fanless isn't a word?  Sure it is!  I just invented it right now.  MOUSES!

But back to that status.  On Facebook, the peep described what is known as the Coffee Paradox and she described it almost perfectly.  She said something like, sometimes she needs a cup of coffee to get out of bed in the morning but unfortunately, she needs to get out of bed in order to get the coffee.  See?  A perfect paradox, indeed.

Well almost perfect.  As I so kindly pointed out to Peep #1, her paradox would be even more perfect had it been about nip.  As a cat, I don't drink coffee but nip on the other paw...  You get my point, I am sure.

But then on the other other paw - luckily, as a cat, I have four - if the paradox were about nip and not coffee, it wouldn't be called the Coffee Paradox.  It would be called the Nip Paradox, I suppose. I'll have to think about this one, a little more.

The thing is though, for a brief moment there, I said to myself, "My gosh, Peep #1 really can be quite profound."

Then I answered myself with, "Profound!  The Peep?  Didn't even know she was anti-lost never mind pro found.  MOUSES!"  Well I said something to that effect, I do believe.

Not quite sure what I said on account of my having been nipped, at the time.  MOUSES!

Hey!  It's not my fault that nip mouse was lying there on the floor next to my office chair.  Yes, I may have left it there, last night, but I didn't order it to stay.  MOUSES!

But do you know who really was very profound?  Nissy.  My brother Nissy was the most profound kitty around.

It has been five months, today, since Nissy left us to romp through the great nip fields of Heaven, chasing butterflies.  Five long months.  And his best friend, Herman Tattlecat, wrote the most beautiful tribute to Nissy and published it today, in honour of what he calls Nissy's five month Angelversary. Angelversary...  I like that.  Nissy was an angel on earth so up in Heaven, he'll be one of the finest angels, for sure.

The peep has been a little sad since yesterday, when she started thinking about the fact that it was five months ago when Nissy left us.  She says it seems like just yesterday when she could scoop him up into her arms for cuddles but at the same time, it feels like he's been gone for so very long.  Far too long.  She says that seeing Nissy used to make her heart smile but now, her heart hasn't smiled in a very long time.

But Peep #1 was ever-so-touched by Herman's blog post.  It made her cry, a bit, but that's only because she loved Nissy so much and misses him terribly.  And from reading Herman's blog post, it's very clear that he loved Nissy, too.  They were best pals.  Besties.  Bestest besties, for sure.

Herman's post, "Tribute to Nerissa the Cat," can be found right here on the blog, Kimberley Koz. That's the blog Herman shares with his mum.

I've been thinking about Nissy a lot lately, too.  As you know, Niss and I signed up for Professor Lyon's Kitty Lit. 101 course, last year, and going to school with my brother was such fun.  Now I'm taking the course with my other two brothers, Anderson and Rushton.  Thing is, because those two long-haired marmies are newbies regarding the literary lessons thing, I have to be the big brother now.  The responsible one.  I have to be like Nissy.

And being the big brother is hard when you're supposed to be the big brother to two long-haired marmies who are part Coon.  They're huge!  I'm a fairly good-sized dude, myself, but Andy and Rushy?  Like I said, HUGE.  And they have all that floofy floof, too.  MOUSES!

Sometimes Peep #1 wonders if Anderson really is big cat or instead, a rather small lion.  She says it could go either way.  MOUSES!

But speaking of Professor Lyon's Kitty Lit. course, you are all remembering to enter my giveaway, are you not?  It's easy peasy to do and the prize is absolutely great.  One very lucky reader is going to WIN an AUTOGRAPHED COPY of Fillet of Murder, Linda Reilly's fantabulous book.

All you need do to enter is leave a comment on my post, "fish and chips with a side of trouble," by midnight, Atlantic Time, on Sunday October 4th. Leaving a comment is easy!  Like I said, easy peasy, for sure.  Just remember to do so before Sunday's deadline, okay?

And if, by chance, you are wondering about that side of trouble business, let me put it this way... You've met my two marmie brothers, haven't you?  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.

friends don't let friends feed trolls

Whatever you do, don't feed 'em.  DO NOT FEED THE TROLLS.  They'll only come back for more and some of 'em will try to eat you alive.  MOUSES!

Yup, it's true.  Feed a troll, he hungers for more.  Starve a troll and he'll mosey on along.  Or maybe he'll just wither away and die from starvation.  Either way, I'm good with it.

Bein' an Internet savvy and internationally renowned social-media mogul such as myself...

Okay, scratch that.  Bein' a cat with a Twitter account and a Facebook page, I have some experience with trolls and let me tell you somethin', I do not suffer trolls gladly.  MOUSES!

Trolls are despicable, rotten-to-the-core creatures.

Much of the despicableness of that which is the troll stems from their diet which is comprised mainly of metal, wood and rocks along with an occasional Tweeter.  This incredibly unhealthy diet gives trolls a case of constant indigestion and chronic constipation.  It's quite uncomfortable, to be sure.

But don't pity the trolls because of this painful affliction.  A few more raw veggies and a few less Tweeters and their indigestion would subside.  To get rid of the constipation, I think they'll have to stop eatin' rocks.  MOUSES!

With all the burpin' and passin' of gas 'caused by their diet rich in rocks and Tweeters, you'd think you could see a troll from a mile away.  Smell him, at least.  But oddly enough, trolls are masters of disguise.  They're masters at insinuating themselves into the lives of tweetin' cats, dogs and peeps. They quietly lurk in the background, waitin' for their chance to pounce and when they see it, they seize the opportunity before them.  The next thing you know, they're tweetin' tweets designed intentionally to harm others and cause discord.  They wanna cause arguments.  They wanna cause arguments just to argue.  It's the very nature of the troll.

Yes, trolls are nasty, argumentative monsters by nature.  They like to stick their sticky fingers into the pot, stir it up and then sit back and watch.  And the moment the arguing stops, the trolls are right back in there, stirrin' the pot up some more.

My advice to anyone who meets a troll exhibiting such troll-like behaviour is very simple.  BLOCK. REPORT.  IGNORE.  Three little words that will save the victims of trolls a whole world of pain. BLOCK.  REPORT.  IGNORE.  Come on peeps...  repeat it with me.  BLOCK.  REPORT.  IGNORE.

You see, trolls can't exist in a world where they are ignored.   They feed upon the responses of their victims.  When you ignore them, their food supply is cut off.  They have to move on or starve.  Either way, you won't have to deal with them ever again.  BLOCK.  REPORT.  IGNORE.  It's as simple as that.

I know...  I know...  It doesn't always seem that easy but really, this technique works wonders with your typical, ordinary troll.

We haven't yet discussed the subset of trolls that have forayed into the realm of criminal activity.  Whether it's cyber-bullying or cyber-stalking, it is a crime.

This subset of trolls goes beyond the normal troll-like behaviour of lurking and waiting to pounce.  These trolls victimise specific people.  They attack them both directly and indirectly. They'll seek out the family and friends of the their victims, spreading vicious rumours and lies.  They're nasty, bullying monsters who set out each mornin' to harm the innocents of the Internet and they're as mean as mean can be.  They're a menace to society.

How do they choose their victims?  As I'm not a troll myself nor have I - THANKFULLY - ever been inside the head of a troll, I can't say for certain however, I suspect that trolls detect a certain vulnerability in their victims.  That vulnerability could be as simple as the victim bein' a nice person. Unfortunately, it gives it gives the trolls easy access.

And of course, if the victim of a bullying or stalking troll should happen to respond to said troll, the troll will feed upon that response, growing stronger and stronger as the victim weakens.

This is why it is ever-so-important that we ignore the trolls of the Internet.  By ignoring them, we starve them to death.  By responding, we feed them.  Please, if you see friends bein' bothered by trolls, strongly encourage them to ignore those dastardly, burpin', constipated, trollin' creatures. FRIENDS DON'T LET FRIENDS FEED TROLLS.  It's a fact, for sure.

I do understand that sitting back and allowing a troll to spread lies and rumours is difficult.  I get it. One naturally wants to defend oneself.  But one must fight the urge to defend oneself because in the case of trolls of any sort, the best defence is always, no defence.  The best defence is to block, report and ignore.

What's more, ignoring a troll gives the victim power.  Power over the troll.  The victim has the power to choose.  By using that power and choosing to ignore the troll, the victim regains the upper hand. The victim gains power over the troll and said troll slowly starves into nothingness, exactly where trolls belong.

Of course, when one is dealing with this particularly nasty subset of cyber-bullying and stalking trolls, one must remember that the trolls are participating in a criminal activity.  So don't just report 'em to Facebook or Twitter.  Report 'em to the police, too.  Many police forces now have special cyber-crime units.  If you're a victim of a cyber-crime, you need to let the police know, for sure.

I have to say, when I see someone on Twitter or Facebook exhibiting troll-like behaviour, I block 'em as quickly as my little paws can type.  I block 'em in record speed.  I can block and report a troll in under three seconds.  I've had a bit of practise, you see.

And here on my blog, I don't see many trolls.  Actually, I don't see any at all which is a good thing, I think.

I meet a lot of spammers but spammers aren't really trolls.  Spammers are just peeps who eat a lot of processed meat that comes in cans.  Funny thing about those spammers...  Their mamas all gave them the very same name - Anonymous - and they all wanna sell me stuff.  Usually shoes, handbags and little pills that no self-respectin' cat who has been neutered, such as I, would ever require.  And as I don't wear shoes, I don't want those, either.  MOUSES!

I'm free!

I'm free!  I'M FREE!  I'M OUT OF FACEBOOK JAIL AT LAST!

Yes, that is just what I was yellin' at the top of my lungs on Friday night. Finally, I was free.

For three whole days I had been unfairly and unjustly incarcerated.  THREE WHOLE DAYS.  Seventy-two hours. Do you have any idea how long seventy-two hours is in cat time?  Why, it's...  uh... seventy-two times...  carry the four... plus...  divided by one...  carry the two...  carry the nine...  MOUSES! Seventy-two hours is equal to one million, eight hundred and fourteen thousand, four hundred seconds in cat time.  That's a whole lot of seconds.  No wonder it seemed like an eternity.

Talk about cruel and unusual punishment.

So exactly what happened?  Funny you should ask that.  I can't give you the full answer on account of my not knowin' exactly what happened but I will tell you what I do know and exactly what I think about the situation.

There I was on Tuesday night, happily postin' away on my fan page, Nerissa's Life over on Facebook, when all of a sudden...  MOUSES!  I wasn't bein' allowed to post a thing.  I couldn't post anything new and all of the posts I had ever posted over the past two years or so, disappeared like magic.  Facebook kept tellin' me I had a tonne of notifications but when I clicked on any of 'em to see what my pals were sayin'...  NOTHIN'.  Nothin' but a blank page.  Again I say...  MOUSES!

To anyone else who looked at my page, everything appeared to be normal.  They could see no indication that somethin' was wrong but I knew somethin' was wrong.  Somethin' was terribly, TERRIBLY wrong.

Of course, I immediately thought it was some sort of glitch.  I mean, it's not like Facebook is known to be glitch-free, you know?  I reported what I thought to be a glitch through my page and the peep reported it through her timeline.  I, at nerissathecat, also left a slew of tweets for Facebook over on twitter.  I was gettin' desperate and we all know what desperation can do.  But still, I received no response.  MOUSES!

Then I started thinkin' about it and realised that it might not be a glitch at all.  No, what made much more sense was that I had been tossed into Facebook Jail and the peeps at Facebook had gone and thrown away the key.  I was devastated.

What had I done?  WHAT HAD I DONE?  I was stompin' my paws and throwin' a right ol' hissy fit which only a cat can do really, really well on account of our ability to hiss.  I was mad as all get out. I was yellin' MOUSES! here and MOUSES! there.  I was yellin' MOUSES! all over the place, just about everywhere.  WHAT HAD I DONE?

Now here's the thing.  I am not against rules.  In order for us all to live in an orderly and civilised society, there must be rules and yes, those rules must be enforced.  No point in havin' rules if you're not gonna enforce 'em.  I do admit that I would much prefer that said rules be written by cats but until we cats fully take over the world, I suppose I'll have to suffer through the peep-made ones.  But whether made by cats or peeps, WE CATS HAVE TO BE INFORMED OF THOSE RULES!

I received no warning of any kind from the peeps at Facebook.  Nothin'.  One moment everything was fine, A-okay, hunky-dory and the next...  MOUSES!

I would like to submit to the Court of Public Opinion that throwin' a cat into Facebook Jail without ever informin' said cat of the charges against him or her is unfair and unjust and definitely, above all else, rude.  I would also like to submit to the Court of Public Opinion that cats and peeps alike deserve to be told why they're bein' tossed into jail before bein' jailed.

I went lookin' for information regarding my rights and found that the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms clearly states that we have the right to be informed promptly when arrested or detained. Promptly.  PROMPTLY!  It also says that if a cat is charged with an offence, said cat has the right to be told exactly what that specific offence is and to be told without unreasonable delay.  Okay, the Charter doesn't specifically mention cats but I think it really should so I added that part, myself.

Anywho...   my point is that I was tossed into Facebook Jail and imprisoned like a common criminal, never bein' told what offence I had committed.  In fact, I have yet to receive any sort of explanation from the peeps at Facebook and I'm not holdin' my breath on ever gettin' one as, I suspect, doin' so could very well kill me.

Not respondin' to my enquiries is really rather rude.  Anyone with an ounce of courtesy in their bodies should know that.  They really should.

But not tellin' me what offence I committed was more than just rude.  It was also stupid.  Yes, stupid.  For peeps who are so incredibly smart to have created the whole Facebook thingy, it's hard to believe they could behave so stupidly.

By not tellin' me what offence I committed, I'm very likely to commit it again.  You see, if they were to tell me exactly what I did that was wrong, I could easily avoid doin' whatever it was again, in the future.  In fact, I would go out of my way to avoid doin' whatever it was.  But I don't know what I did and by not knowin', I'm likely to commit the very same offence again.  Not because I want to but rather, because no one at Facebook has had the decency to inform me of the laws I have broken. MOUSES!

The peeps at Facebook would likely say that they don't have time to respond to everyone's questions and whatnot on account of there bein' millions of Facebook users.  Yeah, yeah, yeah... Fact is, this whole situation could have been avoided if, when thrown into Facebook Jail, I had been given a reason right then and there.  And if the reasons for my arrest happened to be explained on my administration page, I would like to inform Facebook that my administration page disappeared when my fan page was last updated which, by the way, I did not ask anyone to do.  MOUSES!

Do they never watch television?  Have they never seen a peep bein' arrested on television?  The police tell the perpetrator exactly why he or she is bein' arrested at the same time they arrest them. Facebook should have done that for me.  Not knowin' what I had done or for how long I was gonna be punished made everythin' about my punishment ten times worse.  It made it almost unbearable.

I wanna thank all my pals for their undyin' love and support during this very tryin' time.  I could never have gotten through it without you all.  Knowin' you were missin' me is what got me through this whole thing.  Well, that and the nip. Peep #1 smuggled some extra nip rations in for me.  Oohhh...  it was excellent.

Some of you may feel that I'm sort of pushin' my luck by havin' written this post but I really think that this post needed to be written.  As you all know, I consider myself to be a bit of a reporter.  What do reporters do?  They report!  We investigative reportin' cats report the news and this, my friends, is news.  The truth must be told no matter what the cost.

Once more I say...   MOUSES!