firsts

Happy New Year, everybody.  HAPPY NEW YEAR!

And once more for good measure...

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

So here we are, at the almost start of 2025.  I say almost, of course, on account of today bein' January 5th, and not the 1st.

But what's a few days amongst pals?

MOUSES!

So it's the not-quite-first day of the month.

But it IS the first month of year.

And, of course, the first week, as well.

So all in all, I'm doin' pretty well with the firsts.

MOUSES!

Now let's see, what other firsts do we have.  Hmmm...

Okay, so Peepers and I are readin' this wonderful book by our pal Linda Reilly called You Feta Watch Out, and we are totally lovin' it, for sure.  Now let me state right here and right now, our lovin' one of Linda's books is most definitely NOT a first of any kind.  On the contrary, we've loved ALL of the books Linda has written.  Yup, each and every one of 'em.

MOUSES!

But what is a first is that we're readin' it, as planned, durin' the Christmas season.  That's right, a nice cozy Christmas-timed mystery to be readin' at Christmas, WHICH IS WHY even though Peepers ordered the book when it first came out, she saved it for the season.

Okay, so this one is only KINDA a first.  The plan was to read it ON Christmas and had we been up to date with our readin' and done that, it would definitely have been a first.  But it seems like we're always behind and so we started it late, missin' Christmas Day, entirely.

Okay, so I guess that's not any kinda first, at all.  Once again, Peepers and I are not doin' our readin' on time.

But the important thing is, the book is super good and we both highly recommend it, for sure.

MOUSES!

Now let me think of another first.  And maybe this one will actually be one.

Hmmm....

Oh!  *claps paws*  We had a white Christmas.

Now it's not an all-time first, or anythin' like that.  It's not like we've never had a white Christmas before.

I mean, this IS Canada, right?

But honestly, I can't remember when we last had a white Christmas so I'm countin' this one as a somewhat kinda perhaps maybe sorta first.  

Or somethin' like that.

MOUSES!

Of course, after Christmas it got really warm.  Then it rained and the snow all melted away.  But then the other day that ol' snow came back, along with lots and lots of cold air.

And the up and down, down and up, 'round and 'round we go weather is most definitely NOT any kind of first, as of late.

MOUSES!

But here's a big first: the tree is still up.

Okay, that part's not a first.  I, Seville the Cat, have never once knocked a tree down in all my nine lives.  And as far as I know, neither has Saffy.

BUT THE ORNAMENTS are still all in once piece, and that is a first, to be sure.

Saffy has a thing for shiny round balls, you see.

Especially ones that shatter when knocked to the ground.

MOUSES!

And our neighbours had fireworks on New Year's Eve.  Another first.

Well, to clarify, some of our neighbours have done that before, but not these particular ones so that is a first to record.

The peeps watched 'em.  The fireworks, I mean.  They couldn't not watch, I suppose, as you could see 'em through the window.

At least that's what I'm told.

Saffron and I were too busy to watch, hidin' under the furniture.

MOUSES!

I actually have a few other firsts to relate, but I think I might save 'em for a post on a later date.

'CAUSE WE WOULDN'T WANT THIS POST -  FOR THE FIRST TIME, EVER! - TO RAMBLE ON AND ON AND ON AND ON AND...

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

What do you MEAN I tend to ramble on and on, anyway?  What do you MEAN my doin' so wouldn't be a first?  What on earth can you possibly MEAN?

Well if you're gonna talk like that, you can just keep that kinda talk to yourself.

After all, we wouldn't want me to have to apply the first smacky-paw of the year now, would we.

Although now that I think about it, it wouldn't actually be the first.

But perhaps the first one of which YOU happen to be aware

As long as you don't talk to Saffy.

MOUSES!

I'm back!

Okay, so I wasn't actually gone.

I just took a day off, you see.

You know, on account of my regular postin' day bein' on Christmas, this year.

MOUSES!

Truth be told, I was plannin' on postin' the very next day instead of waiting until now, but...

But the thing is...

The thing is, the day after Christmas was Boxing Day, and...

Well...

Well Boxin' Day is important, too.

Boxing Day: the day of the box.

Did I happen to mention it involves boxes?

MOUSES!

But back to the business at paw.  I hope everyone had a great Christmas.  Everyone who celebrates Christmas, of course.  And for anyone who doesn't, I hope you had a good day, too.

And as for the ol' Boxing Day...

WHO THE MOUSES DOESN'T CELEBRATE THAT?

Again, did I happen to mention it involves boxes?

MOUSES!

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

WHAT?

Oh, for the love of mouses.

So apparently, accordin' to Peepers (if she is to be believed), Boxing Day ISN'T celebrated by EVERYONE, all around the world.  Really only in the UK, and a number of Commonwealth nations, such as Canada.

But it most definitely does involve the givin' of boxes to cats.

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

THE LEAST YOU CAN DO IS GIVE US CATS THE BOXES.

MOUSES!

So apparently, accordin' to Peepers (although I really don't think she is to be believed), the origins of Boxin' Day do not revolve around the givin' of boxes to cats.

Proof positive that Peepers is definitely NOT to be believed.

MOUSES!

But all that nonsense Peepers is spoutin' aside, Saffron and I spent most of Boxin' Day, this year, hangin' out in some really lovely boxes.

AS ANY SELF-RESPECTIN' CANADIAN KITTY WOULD.

MOUSES!

And word of warnin', as this comin' Wednesday is New Year's Day, I'll be takin' the day off then, as well.  First day of the year is a very important day for us kitties, you see.  It's the day when we start the year as we mean to go on, which involves assertin' ourselves as the true rulers of the world, and...

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

FINE.

Peepers says the best I can do is assert myself as the true ruler of my own kingdom: my house.

PEEPERS,THE LEAST YOU CAN DO IS GIVE ME ABSOLUTE CONTROL OF MY OWN HOUSE!

And as you can see, I'm gonna be pretty darned busy New Year's Day, catsplaining the way of the world to my peeps.

MOUSES!

And don't forget to spend some time on New Year's Eve or New Year's Day readin' about my adventure, way back when, when Nissy and I were summoned to London, England, to save the brinin' in of the New Year.  You can read all 'bout it in "Like Clockwork" by clickin' right here:  HERE

And in case we don't chat between now and January 1st...

May you all have a joyful and prosperous 2025.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

resolutions

Let's see, New Year resolution number one.

Hmmm...

Nah, that was a silly resolution for me to make.  I'll just scratch that one off my list.

New Year resolution number two.

Hmmm...

In all honesty, that's the kinda resolution a kitty might make when a kitty was nipped.

Which I probably was.

Yeah, I'm gonna scratch that one off my list, too.

MOUSES!

New Year resolution number three.

Hmmm...

Well that one's doable.

I suppose.

IF I wanted to do it, that is.

Which I don't.

Best I just scratch that resolution off my list, as well.

New Year resolution number four.

Hmmm...

Well that one doesn't even apply to me.  Be nicer to others?  Huh.  I must have been thinkin' of Peepers when I wrote that particular resolution.  I'll just scratch it off my list and add it to hers, and...

Hey Peepers!  PEEPERS!  Where did you put that list of New Year resolutions I wrote for you?  You know the one.  The one that listed all the improvements I thought you could make in 2024.

NO, not home improvements.  PERSONAL improvements.  Improvements to YOUR person.  I even listed 'em in order from most important to least.  You know, so you'd know where to start.

What a helpful kitty I am.

'Cause the thing is, Peepers, I've come up with another New Year resolution for you.  Another resolution to add to your list,  WHICH IS WHY I'm currently lookin' for that list.  I'm pretty sure I can squeeze this new one in between numbers thirty-three and thirty-four.

Meh, maybe I should make it number thirty-five.  Definitely somewhere in the thirties, for sure.

So anyway, Peepers, WHERE-OH-WHERE IS THAT LIST?

Peepers, why are you lookin' over there?

YOU WHAT?  You put my...  I mean, your...  I mean, you threw MY list of YOUR New Year resolutions out in the...  In the...  IN THE GARBAGE, you say?

Gosh darn it, that ol' peep has already broken three of her resolutions and it's only January 3rd.

Of all the no-good peepish things to do.

MOUSES!

Good thing I've got a good memory.  I can make her a copy.

But before I do that, I had better tackle my own.  Tackle my own list of resolutions, that is.

New Year resolution number five:  Don't make any more resolutions.

That's odd, I don't remember makin' that one.

And I don't think that's even my pawwritin'.  It looks more like...

HEY PEEPERS!  PEEPERS!!!  YOU BEEN MESSIN' WITH MY LIST?

Awww...

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.

resolutions

I, Seville the Cat, do solemnly swear...

Scratch that.  Peepers says I shouldn't swear.

MOUSES!

I, Seville the Cat, do solemnly resolve...

That's better.  No swearin' involved.

MOUSES!

I, Seville the Cat, do solemnly resolve that in this here new year of 2023, Peepers will...

I know, I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin' I should be makin' New Year's Resolutions for myself and not for the peep.

Well...

Well if you remember from years past, makin' resolutions for the peeps is kinda what I do.

MOUSES!

The thing is, as a cat, I'm pretty much perfect as it is.  So why the mouses would I be needin' to make resolutions to improve myself?  Perfection does not require improvin', you see.

Plus...

Plus, keepin' these New Year's Resolution thingies is a royal pain in the tail.

Or so I am told.

MOUSES!

That's right, it's far easier for me to make New Year's Resolutions for Peepers than to make 'em for myself.  Making 'em for her means I don't have to bother keepin' any resolutions, AND if Peepers doesn't keep the resolutions I've made for her...

Well...

Well if Peepers doesn't keep the New Year's Resolutions I've made for her, odds are my complaints 'bout her not keeping 'em will keep me supplied in topics for my blog all year long.

It's a win-win situation, for sure.

MOUSES!

Now back to this ol' resolution makin' thing.

I, Seville the Cat, do solemnly resolve that in this here new year of 2023, PEEPERS will...

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.

ninety-four weeks

It's a new day.

It's a new year.

It's ninety-four weeks.

MOUSES!

And for those of you keepin' track of this ol' pandemic thingy in cat seconds, that's five hundred and eleven million, six hundred and sixty thousand, eight hundred.

Cat seconds, that is.

Think I already mentioned that.

MOUSES!

But back to this New Year business.

So yesterday was the first day of the brand new year and so far, so good.

I think.

Yeah, I'm pretty sure it is.  Peepers hasn't done anythin' to annoy me, you see.

Yet.

I think.

But give her time, my friends.  Give her time!  Given enough time, I'm sure she'll come up with somethin' to annoy me, for sure.

MOUSES!

Now with it bein' the New Year, and all, you're probably wonderin' what kinda New Year Resolutions I've come up with for myself.  What kinda things I'm plannin' to do in the year 2022.

Well...

Well you can stop wonderin' right now, my friends, 'cause I'm about to tell you.

Are you listenin'?

Have you got your ears open wide?

Okay, my New Year Resolutions for 2022 are...

NOT A SINGLE STUPID THING!

That's right, my good friends, not a single thing.  I don't have a single New Year Resolution to do.  None.  Not one.  Nothin'.  Nothin' as in zero and zilch.

And I'm thinkin' this year is gonna be my year for KEEPIN' my New Year Resolutions, for sure.

You know, on account of my not havin' any to keep.

MOUSES!

Peepers, on the other paw, has stupidly given herself some to do.

Word on the street is she didn't like the New Year Resolutions I made for her last year.

Stupid, unappreciative peep.

MOUSES!

And what are Peepers' New Year Resolutions, you ask?

Well for starters, she has resolved that this year is the year she's gonna use that stupid ol' treadmill she got a few months ago, when the air is too cold and the roads are too icy to go walkin' outside.

HEY PEEPERS!  You know you've gotta put the thing together before you can use it, right?  RIGHT?

Okay, so January 2nd and she has already broken that New Year Resolution, for sure.

It didn't take long.

Yup, January 1st came and went and that ol' treadmill is still sittin' in its box.

A box I, Seville the Cat, could be makin' much better use of, for sure.

MOUSES!

And as for her other stupid New Year Resolutions...

Okay, so I don't actually know what those are.  She said something 'bout not wantin' to tell me on account of her knowin' I'd go out and blab to all my readers the moment she broke 'em.

And that would be about right.

My gosh my peep knows me well.

But not as well as I know HER...

You know why?

'Cause I know that whatever those other stupid New Year Resolutions of hers are, she's gonna have 'em all broken, lickety-split, and when she does, she's gonna complain about it to SOMEONE, so all I need do is wait around for the chips to fall, as they may, and...

And that's when I'll write all 'bout her failures on this here blog.

'Cause that's what a responsible reportin' kinda kitty should do.

MOUSES!

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

NO, I'm not tellin' my readers all about you havin' already broken all your stupid New Year Resolutions.

I only told 'em 'bout the first one, so far.

'CAUSE I'M STILL WAITIN' FOR YOU TO BREAK ALL THE OTHERS, THAT'S WHY!

But it really shouldn't take long.

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.

New Year's Eve, eve

 

It's almost over, my friends.  2020 is on its way out.  Almost done; almost finished; almost gone.

MOUSES!

I've just gotta get through the rest of today, and then twenty-four hours tomorrow, and then...

And then...

THEN IT'LL BE 2021!

MOUSES!

I can't say this enough, my friends: 2020 was what you find in a used kitty litter box year, for sure.

Litter used by a kitty with loose bowels.

MOUSES!

But I have high hopes for 2021.  First of all, I'm plannin' on kickin' the peeps out...

Okay, so I'm not actually gonna kick Peepers out of the house

Well, not permanently, at least.  A cat needs to keep some staff on paw for litter box duties, openin' tins and things, and stuff like that.

But I am gonna STRONGLY SUGGEST that she spends a whole lot more time outdoors.

Away from me.

'Cept when I need her, of course.

MOUSES!

And I'm also gonna suggest she follows my list of things to do in 2021.  Some might call it a list of New Year's resolutions.  I, on the other paw, call it what it is: A TO-DO LIST, for the peep.

Like I said, a list of things to do.

MOUSES!

So top on my list is, of course, keepin' out of my fur when I need her to be keepin' out.  No more of this pesterin' the cat business on account of bein' stuck at home and havin' nothin' better to do.

THERE'S ALWAYS SOMETHIN' BETTER TO DO than pesterin' me.

MOUSES!

And no more of these hugs and kisses when SHE wants hugs and kisses, either.  Peepers can hug me if I say it's okay, and only when I do.

Which is never.

MOUSES!

And as for the kisses...

HAS THE WOMAN NEVER HEARD OF SOCIAL DISTANCIN'?

MOUSES!

So basically, my New Year's Resolutions for the peep, otherwise known as my list of items for Peepers to do, include - but are in no way limited to - providin' me with meals, snacks, and treats; sewing and knitting up nip-filled biff bags and nipmice; openin' the door when I want it opened and standin' by said door when I just wanna sit there and breath in the fresh air but not actually go outside on account of it bein' cold or rainy or...  or super freezin' cold 'cause we live in Canada and in Canada, winters are cold; and, of course, KEEPIN' OUT OF MY FUR.

Did I mention the keepin' out of my fur bit before?

Of course I did.

MOUSES!

And...  

AND...

And nothin'.  If Peepers can do those four things in 2021, this next year is gonna be a great year, for sure.

And before I conclude my final blog post for 2020, I'd just like to say...

SAYONARA 2020.

DON'T LET THE DOOR HIT YOU ON THE WAY OUT!

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.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Sorry 'bout that, Peepers.

You were in the splash zone.

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, the thing is, Peep #1 decided to bring in the New Year with me up in her arms.  Yup, there I was, up in her arms, BEIN' HELD CAPTIVE for all the world to see.

But the thing is...

But the thing is, prior to ol' Peepers pickin' me up AGAINST MY WILL, I had been droolin' a bit.  You know, on account of my havin' been sound asleep dreamin' of good things to eat.

So when the ol' peep picked me up...

So when the ol' peep picked me up, I suddenly felt some drool runnin' down my chin...

AND OF COURSE...

And of course this resulted in me givin' my head a good shake.  You know, to get rid of the drool.  'Cause no self-respectin' kitty wants to bring in the New Year with drool on his face.

MOUSES!

And since I happened to be up in Peepers' arms at the time...

- THROUGH NO FAULT OF MY OWN -

When I was shakin' off the drool, the peep was in the splash zone.

And OL' PEEPERS ENDED UP WITH DROOL ON HER FACE.

Not my fault she picked me up.

MOUSES!

And oh-my-mouses you should have seen the look on her face.  The peep looked like she had swallowed a sour lemon or lime or the like.

So when the clock struck midnight and I yelled, "HAPPY NEW YEAR PEEPERS!"

The peep, bein' a peep, screwed up her sourpuss of a face and let out a big, "Ewww."

Of all the unappreciative peeps.

MOUSES!

So I hope you've learned a lesson here, Peepers.  I hope you've learned a lesson for the upcoming year.  Next time, try bringin' in the New Year with a drink in your paw and a toast on your lips, instead of spattered drool all over your face.

MOUSES!

Happy New Year, everybody.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

PURRS

Happy New Year!

Happy Birthday to me.
Happy Birthday to me.
Happy Birthday to MEE-EEE....
Happy Birthday to...

What's that, Peepers?  What did you say?

It's not my birthday?

It isn't?  Really?  Are you absolutely sure?

Awww...  MOUSES!

But technically, it could be my birthday. It's not like you actually know the actual day I was born.  I mean, I arrived at the back door already all grown-up, so there's a good chance today IS my birthday after all.

What's that, Peepers?  The chance of today bein' my actual birthday isn't actually good?

Whatever do you mean?

A one in three hundred and sixty-five chance, huh?  Three hundred and sixty-five...  And you say that doesn't take into account the fact that January isn't kitten season here in Canada.  And that makes it even less likely.  Hmmm...

Awww...  MOUSES!

Well it's somebody's birthday!  I'm sure there's someone out there whose birthday it is.  Like uh... Um...  Uh...

I know!  It's that Baby New Year's birthday, today.  You know the one.  The baby in the diapers. Looks a little like my pal Cupid, 'cept without the wings.  And no bow and arrow.  And I don't think he can fly or anythin'.  And uh...  Um...  Sometimes he wears a big ol' top hat and...  Hmmm...

But they do look a lot alike.  I mean, they both wear diapers.  In public.  Don't bother covering 'em up or anythin'.  MOUSES!

Baby New Year...  The personification of the birth of the new year.  2017 is all of one day old.  Well almost.  Almost, here in Canada.  Guess he won't really be a whole day old 'til tomorrow, right?

And I'm assumin' he is a he.  I think Baby New Year is a boy baby.  He looks like a boy baby.  So I guess that makes 2017 a boy, too.  You know, before thinkin' that through, I didn't realize years were male or female.  I always thought they were just...  Well... Years.

But back to my birthday.

Peepers, I don't see why we can't just say that January 1st is my birthday.  I mean, odds or no odds... By the way, if you have no odds, does that make the odds better?

But I digress.

Fact is Peepers, as of right now, I don't have an actual birthday.  I don't have an actual date of birth. And yet, I was born, and so I must.

So why the mouses can't we just say January 1st is my birthday and be done with it?

BECAUSE!

Do I have to explain everythin' to you, Peepers?

Everyone celebrates New Year's Day, BIG time.  It's even a holiday in most places.  So if I choose January 1st to be MY birthday, then everyone will be celebratin' on my birthday, and in a way, they'll be celebratin' me.  All those New Year's Eve parties will be celebratin' my birthday to come. And then at the stroke of midnight, they'll be cheerin' my arrival.  Then on New Year's Day, they'll be sayin' "HAPPY NEW YEAR!" which will kinda be like code for "Happy Birthday Sivvers!" 'cause you know, it'll be my birthday and everythin'.

What do you mean it doesn't work that way?

WELL IT SHOULD.

MOUSES!

And you're sure that if I choose January 1st to be my birthday, New Year's Day won't be all about me?

You're sure?

You're quite positive 'bout that, huh? Hmmm...

Awww...  MOUSES!

Hmmph!

Well I'm not gonna let that stop me from wishin' all my pals a Happy New Year.

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYBODY!

And if my pals wanna wish me a Happy Birthday back, I'm okay with that.  Yup, I'm okay with that, for sure.  And please, feel free to send nip. MOUSES!

last dance

'Twas the week before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a...

WRONG!!!  That's not what happened at all.  Let me explain.

It was exactly a week before Christmas. Peep #1 put a load of laundry in the washing machine and then came into the family room to spend some time with us cats.  Everything was fine, for a while, but then she started hearing strange noises emanating from the basement.  Bangs and booms and bangity-boom-boom kinds of noises.  MOUSES!

Never one to shy away from strange noises, even if they might be being made by a horde of elephant-sized weasels from that dastardly weaselly enterprise known as the Weasel Syndicate, the peep headed downstairs at a trot.

And what before her wondering eyes did appear?  Let's just say, it wasn't a weasel.  MOUSES!

There before her, the washing machine was doing the dance of the sugarplum fairies.

WRONG!!!  There were no sugarplums, nor fairies, nor anything of the like but the washing machine was dancing up a storm, to be sure.

That's right, the washing machine was dancing across the basement floor, swaying to the left as far as its electrical cord would allow and then back to the right, doing the tango of all tangos and then jigging like a drunken leprechaun let loose at a fiddle fest in the heart of leprechaun country. MOUSES!

Also, there was water all over the place.

Apparently, our washing machine can't handle its liquor.  I mean, water.  I mean...  Actually, I'm not quite sure where I'm going with this.  MOUSES!

So the peep wrangled that washing machine like she was wrangling some poor, helpless beast at a stampede and managed to turn the moused-up dancing thing off.  Yup, she took that washing machine's dance card away and tore it right up, right there on the spot.  MOUSES!

Anyway...

The next morning the plumber arrived and said something 'bout there possibly being tree roots in the pipes and whatnot, not allowing the water from the washing machine to escape.  Said he'd be back with a pal, the very next week.  They were gonna do some digging and investigating and whatnot.

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

'Twas two days before Christmas and all through the yard, not a creature was stirring, not even a...

WRONG!!!  There was stuff a-stirring all right.  There was the truck pumping out the septic tank and a backhoe and goodness knows what else back there in my yard, digging and pumping and making a whole lot of noise, to be sure.

Bottom line is, the field into which peeps empty their litter boxes failed its final exam.  MOUSES!

So now there's this gigantic-sized hole, not even a horde of elephant-sized weasels could dig, out in my backyard.  Backhoe is gone but it's coming back here very soon.  And with it will be tonnes - literally! - of rock and whatnot, too.  And pipes.  Lots and lots of pipes, I am told.  Gonna be a mess, I am sure.

Peeps are waiting on permits and paperwork from the Department of Environment before the digging peeps can come back to start working on digging more holes.

Hopefully this permit will be issued quite soon because let me tell you, there is no room for peeps in our litter boxes, to be sure.  We share a lot but when it comes to our litter boxes, share we will not. MOUSES!

Oh, and then there's the snow.

That's right, when all this stuff was going on before Christmas, the ground was soft and bare but now...

Now we've had two major snowstorms in a matter of days.  Gonna have to do something 'bout all that snow before the digging begins, I should think.  So I have a call in to the Weasel Syndicate, hoping they can send over some elephant-sized weasels who might be willing to take some away.  If they think they are stealing it, I think they just might.  Weasels are like that, especially in the dead of the night.

But before I forget, there's one more thing I must say.  Something I sincerely want to wish for you all, if I may.


HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!  Happy New Year, all.

like clockwork

"Seville, did you pack everythin' we're gonna need?  This is an important mission.  We need to be extra prepared."

"Still gathering up a few odds and ends," Seville informed Nerissa. "Toss those nuts and bolts into a bag.  We might need them."

Nerissa pawed at one of the piles of nuts and bolts scattered about the room. "Where did they all come from?" he asked Seville.

"Oh, here and there."

Nerissa narrowed his gaze toward his brother.  "Here and there?"

"Well you see, every time I take something apart, I have leftover pieces when I put it back together again.  Those are the leftover bits from various projects," Seville explained.  "We might need some of them in London.  Could come in handy."

Earlier that morning, Nerissa and Seville had been summoned by Her Majesty, the Queen of England; Scotland Yard; and some guy who called himself The Keeper.  Nissy didn't know exactly what this guy kept but the scroll on which the summons was written looked extremely official.

The toaster transporter had been dinging away like it had never dinged before.  Every time Nissy turned around, another summons appeared.  The people of London were desperate for his and his brother's assistance.

"Should we bring along one of those scrolls?" Seville asked Nerissa.  "You know, to let everyone know we're really us and not some impostors tryin' to access Big Ben."

"Nah, I think they'll recognise us without the paperwork, Sivvers.  I'm pretty sure the Queen reads my blog."

Nissy grabbed a couple of extra backup whisks before ordering, "PREPARE THE TELEPORTATION DEVICE," and moments later the two cats were soaring through time and space on their way to London, England.  Gently gliding to a stop on the ground below Big Ben, they climbed out of their flying frying pan and looked around.  "Hmmm...  no official welcoming committee? MOUSES!"

A very frazzled looking man, wearing a long lab coat, hurried out of the clock tower.  Clasping his hands to his face he exclaimed, "You've arrived!  Come along, moggies," and he grabbed each cat by a paw, dragging them into the tower.  "You're our last hope, you two. If you can't fix this, I don't think anyone can."

"Excuse me, Mister, but we can walk a whole lot faster if you let go of our paws," Nerissa huffed.

"Of course, of course...  And where are my manners?  I'm Alistair Thackeray.  I summoned for you this morning."

"You and just about everyone else in London," Seville said.  Looking around he added, "When do we meet the Queen?"

"I'm sure we'll meet her after we fix Big Ben," Nissy hissed to his brother.

Seville glared at Nissy before whispering, "And why did he call us moggies?  What is a moggy, anyway?"

"I think it's somethin' the English call cats," Nissy answered.  "Roll with it.  You know, when in Rome, do as the Romans do.  That sort of thing."

"But we're not in Rome, Niss.  This is London!"

"Uh, yeah," and Nissy turned back to the man he now believed to be The Keeper, although still unaware of what exactly was being kept.  "Anywho...  Time's a wastin'.  Let's get this show on the road, Alistair.  What exactly is the problem?"

Alistair cleared his throat and began to explain.  "Early this morning, it was noticed that Big Ben had stopped chiming.  I immediately investigated and discovered that the mechanism inside the clock tower had stopped working.  Everything had simply ground to a halt."

"The entire city is in a panic," Alistair continued.  "The mechanisms inside the tower are powered by gravity.  As gravity is constant, the gears should continue moving.  If they've stopped..."

"I see," and Nissy sat back on his haunches.  "If the gears have stopped workin', somethin' has altered the gravity around the clock tower.  Is that why you called us in?  'Cause Seville and I are the world's leading experts in eggbeater-whisk time travelling-teleportation technology and you're aware that in order to travel through time, we have to manipulate the gravity waves..."

"Not exactly," Alistair interrupted.  "I called for the two of you because of the discovery I made while inspecting the gears in the clock mechanism.  See for yourself," and he pointed to the mechanism that powered Big Ben.

"Hmm..." murmured Nerissa.

"Er-hmm," Seville cleared his throat.

"What you have there are a couple of whisks," stated Nissy.  "They appear to be uh...  jammin' up the works, so to speak.  We're gonna have to get those out of there. Sivvers, pass me a wrench."

"Hold on Nissy!" Seville cried.  "Don't touch them.  I'm picking up electromagnetic anomalies in the space-time continuum.  The whisks appear to be generating their own magnetic force, altering the gravitational forces within the immediate area.  They're warping the very fabric of space and time."

"What could cause somethin' like that?" Nerissa questioned.  "Those whisks must be..."

"Out of sync with space and time," and Seville finished his brother's thought.  "They're creating a small time vortex in which the localised space-time continuum has been frozen.  It's that vortex that has stopped Big Ben from chiming."

"What are you two moggies going on about?" asked Alistair.  "Time vortexes?  Continuums?  Just tell me how those whisks got into my clock mechanism."

Nissy peered closely at one of the whisks.  "Oh-oh...  Sivvers take a look at this."

The two cats immediately recognised the whisk as being one of the whisks Nissy and Seville had brought with them to London.  "But we just packed that up this morning.  Packed it up after we were summoned here..." and Seville's voice drifted off.

"Well that explains the anomalies in the space-time continuum," muttered Nerissa.  "Big Ben is caught up in a time causality loop.  No wonder it's not chimin'!"  Grabbing the whisk with both paws, he gave it a mighty yank, freeing it from the clock mechanism.  "Sivvers, grab that other whisk and pull."

With the whisks removed, the gears in the clock mechanism stirred to life.  Nissy stood tall, holding his tail high in a confident position.  "All fixed up, Alistair.  Just in time, too.  This is New Year's Eve.  Can't imagine what would happen if Big Ben wasn't able to chime on the stroke of midnight to bring in the new year."

Alistair narrowed his eyes.  "Now explain to me again how those whisks got into my clock.  They were your whisks, did you say?"


Nissy coughed.  "Time causality loops are very complicated things," he explained, hurriedly.  "Have to do with quantum theory and whatnot.  You probably wouldn't understand.  My whisks...  Seville's whisks...  The Galloping Gourmet's whisks!  Who knows to whom those whisks originally belonged.  Or will belong..."

Stuffing the whisks into the bag with the extra nuts and bolts the cats had brought from home, Nissy directed Alistair away from the clock mechanism and down the staircase.

"So tell me, what have we got planned for tonight?  Fireworks?  Music?  Snacks?  Midnight arrives here in London four hours ahead of Nova Scotia so Sivvers and I have a couple of hours to kill before headin' home to celebrate with the peeps.  Didn't receive a party invite from Buckingham Palace but I'm pretty sure that was just an oversight.  You think they'll have nip?  Oh, and while we're there, you can introduce us to the Queen.  I'm gonna wanna wish her a Happy New Year, for sure.


                                    HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!