MOUSES!

"MOUSES!"

"MOUSES!"

"MOUSES!"

I know, I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin' somethin' has really got my goat, this mornin'.

If I had a goat, that is, but I, Seville the Cat, don't have a goat.  Truth be told, I, Seville the Cat, don't wanna have a goat, either.  Word on the street is that goats'll eat just about anythin' and the fact of the matter is, I, Seville the Cat, don't want any goats gettin' into and eatin' my nip.

"MOUSES!"

But the thing is, goat or no goat, I'm not the one yellin' mouses.

MOUSES!

Well, not ALL the yellin' of mouses, that is.

"MOUSES!"

And it's not Saffy Saffron Sassifras yellin' mouses, either.  In fact, neither of us cats are yellin' mouses.  IN FACT, it's not a cat yellin' mouses, at all!

Nope, it's a peep.  A peep named Peepers, to be exact.

"I know this pattern leaflet came as a free gift with the magazine, BUT WOULD IT KILL THEM to have someone go through the pattern, checking for errors, BEFORE printing it up?  Would it?  MOUSES!"

Boy-oh-boy my friends, I've been listenin' to her yellin' mouses this and mouses that all mornin' long.  To tell you the truth, I'm gettin' pretty sick and tired of hearin' this kinda foul language comin' from ol' Peepers' mouth.  Who does she think she is, A CAT?

And what's more, what's a few mistakes in a knittin' pattern here and there?  Just means she has to stop every now and then and work stuff out with pen and paper, herself, instead of relyin' on the pattern tellin' her what to do.  And sure, occasionally she has to go back to redo somethin' or whatever.  But I thought the woman LIKED knittin'.  That's what she says.  She's always claimed that.  Havin' to redo a few things here and there means gettin' to do more knittin', doesn't it?

Well DOESN'T it, my friends?

"MOUSES!"

And there she goes again.

MOUSES!

That time was me.

"MOUSES!"

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

And remember:

IF IN DOUBT,

DON'T. GO. OUT.

Continue to practice SOCIAL DISTANCIN' measures

AND KEEP WASHIN' YOUR PAWS.

MOUSES!

Remember to mask up, too.

wanna hear a secret?

Pssst...  Wanna hear a secret?

Oh hey there, Peepers.

What?

NO, I'm not airing out our dirty laundry here on my blog.  You have a clothes line to do that.  MOUSES!

So anyway...  Wanna hear a secret?

What's that, Peepers?

Actually, to tell you the truth, I wouldn't even bother at this point.

No seriously, I wouldn't.  You've let it go this long, why do anything about it now?

BECAUSE if you wait a little bit longer...

Yeah, yeah...

Peeps and their peep-like problems.

MOUSES!

So like I was sayin'...  Wanna hear a secret?

Seriously Peepers, I wouldn't bother, but if you're gonna bother, know this:  You're gonna be botherin' all on your own.

MOUSES!

Because I'm busy.  Way too busy to help.  That's why.

MOUSES!

Stuff.  I'm doin' STUFF.

Of for the love of mouses, Peepers.  I, Seville the Cat, HAVE PLENTY OF STUFF to be doin'.  Right now, for example, I'm workin' on my blog post for today.  Later on, I'll be workin' on my book.

You know, my book.

THE ONE I'M WRITING.

MOUSES!

And FYI, in the book I'm writing, I, Seville the Cat, am the hero, while you're...

Well...

You're uh...

Comic relief.

MOUSES!

But back to what I was askin' before.  Wanna hear a secret?

Peepers, just go into the livin' room and do what you're thinking about doing, even though I, personally, wouldn't bother doin' it now.  But since you've got your heart set on doin' what you're thinking of doin', just go ahead and do it.

Even if it is March.  Even if we are into the third month of the year.

BUT DON'T DO IT JUST YET!

Give me a minute, okay?

Because.

'Cause uh...

Well...

Well 'cause after you do what you're planning on doin', I'll no longer have a secret to tell.

'CAUSE WHAT YOU HAVE NEGLECTED TO DO FOR THE PAST TWO MONTHS IS MY SECRET.

Boy oh boy, I'm tellin' ya.

Peeps and their peep-like problems.

PEEPS.

Okay, so now that she's gone, but before she undos what she hasn't undone even though it really did kinda need to be done earlier this year, I'LL TELL YOU MY SECRET.

Are you ready?

Are you sitting down?

Brace yourselves, my pals....

If you can believe it...

Our Christmas tree is still up.

MOUSES!

dead mouse walkin'

Hey you.  Yeah, YOU!  YOU, you little...

MOUSES!

Stop squirmin', you little...

MOUSES!

I said, STOP SQUIRMIN'.

Oh for mousin' out loud, of all the stupid, moused-up mice, I, Seville the Cat, had to come across the most stupid, most moused-up mouse of all.

MOUSES!

I'm tellin' ya, it's times like this that can really try a cat's patience, for sure.

MOUSES!

Now stand still there little fellow...

Hmmm...

To tell you the truth, I don't know if you're a fellow or a gal.

Actually, to tell you the REAL truth, I don't really care.  What I do care about is the fact that you're here in my garden, thinkin' you're gonna take up residence in my house, or somethin' like that.

And let me tell you somethin' little guy.

YOU'RE NOT.

No way.  No how.  No chance.

MOUSES!

You do realise that I, Seville the Cat, live in this here house, right?

You didn't know that, huh?  Well I do.  And although I'll admit to not bein' the most uh...  Hmmm...  Skilled?  Nah, that doesn't sound very good.  Hmmm...  INTERESTED!  Yeah, that's it.  Bein' uninterested sounds WAY better than admittin' to havin' a lack of skills.

Now where was I?

Oh yeah.  So LISTEN UP THERE, BUDDY, although I'll admit to not bein' the most INTERESTED cat when it comes to the huntin' of mice, I'm still not gonna let you move into my house.

DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT THE NEIGHBOURHOOD CATS WOULD SAY IF I ALLOWED MICE FREE ACCESS TO MY HOUSE?

Well I'LL TELL YOU what they'd say.  They'd say...  Oh gosh, I don't wanna even think about what they'd say.  They'd be laughin' so hard, they might not even be able to get the words out, but the thing is...

THEY'D BE LAUGHIN' AT ME.

And I, Seville the Cat, am not gonna tolerate that.

MOUSES!

So lookie here, mousie dear, I'm givin' you fair warnin' right here and right now.  You're to pack up your things and mosey along, without even so much as a song.  'Cause I ain't no PiPin' Pied kitty when it comes to the livin' arrangements of mice.

And what if you don't, you ask?

Well I'LL TELL YOU what will happen if you don't.

If you don't mosey along outta here, right this minute, RIGHT NOW, you're gonna be one dead mouse walkin' who won't be doin' ANY talkin', at all.  You got that?

Good.  'Cause I have a reputation to protect, for sure.

MOUSES! 

But now I feel bad.  I feel like a cruel and heartless CAD.

Oh mousie...  OH MOUSIE...  Little mousie, I do feel badly for kickin' you out like this, so I'll tell you what.  Those neighbours over there?  Yeah, that's the house.  That's definitely the one.  Well rumour has it, they have stock in a cheese company.  That's right, a CHEESE company.  They buy the stuff by the TONNE.  Why don't you move in with them?  Livin' there, I know you'd have amazin' and incredible fun.

MOUSES!

pfft

"Pfft."

MOUSES!

Picture it:  My house, yesterday afternoon.

I narrowed my eyes and looked across at the peep.

Peep #1 narrowed her eyes and looked right back at me.  Placing her arms across her chest, she leaned back in her chair, and gave me a stare.

Oh my mouses that's unnerving.

So I went to fold my paws across my chest, and...

And I nearly tipped over.

MOUSES!

So instead, I lay down on my tummy and crossed just the tips of my two front paws.

Now normally, crossin' my two front paws is a really cute thing for me to do, but in this case, I was tryin' to be all....  You know...  TOUGH.  So while doin' the cute paw thing, I gave the peep a cold, hard stare, while she sat in her stupid ol' chair.

And hoped to goodness she hadn't noticed 'bout my almost tippin' over.

MOUSES!

I raised my nose in the air as high as I could.  I sniffed once or twice, givin' her my best look of disdain.

Then the peep shook her head, and said...

"Pfft."

Or somethin' like that.

MOUSES!

"Don't you pfft at me," I told her.  "I'm not sure what it means, but I'm almost positive I don't like it."

MOUSES!

The peep raised one eyebrow like a Vulcan first officer.

"And don't you go all Spocky on me, either, for I, SEVILLE THE CAT, AM THE CAPTAIN of this here spaceship."

Okay, so that made no sense.  You know, on account of my not livin' in a spaceship.

MOUSES!

Then, IF YOU CAN BELIEVE IT, the peep opened her mouth and said...

She said...

"Pfft."

AGAIN.

MOUSES!

That was when I made up my mind to find out exactly what this pfft word meant.  I mean, I couldn't have her goin' around, pfftin' me, and makin' me say mouses.

Unless of course...

Unless pfft was like a compliment or somethin'.

Turns out, it isn't.

MOUSES!

So I marched up to the peep, looked her straight in the eye, and do you know what I said?  Do you? DO you?

I said...

"PFFT."

Well she didn't like that.

Actually, I think she thought I was in pain or something, 'cause the next thing I knew, I was up in her arms and gettin' kisses all over the top of my head.

Talk about disgustin'.

So there the two of us were:  Me, cringing from all of the kissin', and the peep trippin' all over her own apologies, when...

When I thought to myself...

What the mouses were we arguing 'bout in the first place?

Nothin' came to mind, so...

So I squirmed out of her arms and went lookin' for snacks.  On my way out of the room, I said...

"HEY PEEPERS!  WHY DON'T YOU GET OFF YOUR LAZY TAIL AND FIND ME SOMETHIN' TASTY TO EAT.  AND WHILE YOU'RE AT IT, SEE IF YOU CAN DIG OUT AN UNSLOBBERED UPON NIP MOUSE FOR ME TO SLOBBER UPON LIKE A GOOD LITTLE PEEP, OKAY?"

And...

And that's when I remembered how our little argument had first started.

MOUSES!

off on the wrong paw

Talk about gettin' off on the wrong paw.

I mean, foot.

No, I think I mean paw.

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, I bet you're all wonderin' what the peep did.

THIS time.

MOUSES!

Where do I begin.

It all began yesterday afternoon...

What?  What's that you're sayin', Peepers?

You were tired, you say?  Tired?  Tired as in, tired?  Mouses woman, you had no reason to be tired.  I, on the other paw, had EVERY reason to be tired.  I missed one of my half dozen naps yesterday mornin', you know.  And missin' a nap affects me so.  Why, it's a wonder I wasn't goin' around, randomly smacky pawin' you, and my fursibs, and...

Oh yeah.  I did do that, didn't I.

MOUSES!

But you have to admit, Peepers, it's a wonder I wasn't doin' it more.

MOUSES!

Now where was I?  Oh yeah, yesterday afternoon, Peep #1 was all gettin' in my face and everythin', sayin' stuff like, "I thought I told you not to do that."

So I asked, "Do what?"

And she said, "Do that."

And then I said, "What was that, again?"

Now I, of course, meant what was that, that she was talkin' about.  What was it I wasn't supposed to do.

But she thought I meant, I hadn't heard what she was sayin'.

And technically, I hadn't heard what she was sayin'.

Well I did hear her then.  I did hear her when she was sayin' I wasn't supposed to be doin' somethin'.  But I didn't hear her before, when she was tellin' me what it was I wasn't supposed to be doin'.

You know, on account of my havin' better ways to spend my time than listenin' to Peep #1 babble, 'bout goodness knows what she babbles about, on account of her constantly babblin' about nothin' even worthy of babbling.

So again I had to ask, "Peepers, what is it you do you not want me to do?"

And you can imagine my response when she answered with, "That."

Well like I said, you can imagine.  But guess what, I'm not gonna tell you.  At least I'm not gonna tell you word for word.  Nope, no sirree.  I'm not gonna tell you, on account of this here bein' a family-friendly blog, and my response was simply not family-friendly, at all.

MOUSES!

Suffice it to say, the peep thought I was bein' cheeky.  I wasn't bein' cheeky!  I really was askin' her what I wasn't supposed to be doin'.  Seriously, my friends, I had no idea.  I HAD NO IDEA.  Not even a clue.

So anyway...

So anyway, it was very clear to me, we were gettin' nowhere with our stupid ol' conversation, and I very helpfully told her so.  And then I suggested, she give it a break.

Well that didn't go over too well.

MOUSES!

So that's when I said, "Peepers, our stupid little ol' conversation, here, clearly got off on the wrong paw."

And things just went downhill from there.

But I, Seville the Cat, never one to go around givin' up on things, sat back on my haunches, looked up at the peep in the nicest way I could possibly muster after havin' missed one of my half dozen naps that mornin' - and therefore bein' understandingly, extremely tired - and I asked, "Peepers, are you havin' a bad day?"

The peep, bein' a peep, just looked at me in a weird kinda way.

So I looked right back at her, as weirdly as I possibly could - which is difficult for me to do on account of my bein' so dashingly handsome, and simply not inclined to look weird even when I try.  But I did my best.  My best to look weird, I mean, as difficult as it was for me to do.

Basically, I did my imitation of Andy when his upper lip gets caught on his lower fang, and it looks like he's sneering.

Problem was, it was me, not Andy.  Gosh darn it.  Even when sneering, I STILL look cute.  I wasn't lookin' weird at all.  Instead of weird, I was downright adorable.  As usual.

Then the peep, bein' a peep, looked like she was gettin' distracted, and she started walkin' away.  Can you believe it?  Walking away from me.  From me, Seville the Cat.  And in mid-conversation, no less.

So to get her attention, I smacky pawed her right in the back of the leg.  No claws, of course.  Just a paw, in a friendly, smacky kinda way.

Well she spun right 'round and said, "Seville, I thought I told you not to do that."

"You don't want me to smacky paw you on the leg?" I innocently asked.  "That's what you don't want me to do?  Well why didn't you say so in the first place, woman?"

MOUSES!

suck-up

What a little suck-up.

MOUSES!

What's that, Toby?  What's that you're sayin'?

Oh yes you are.  You most CERTAINLY are.

MOUSES!

Lookie here, Toby.  If I, Seville the Cat, say you're a suck-up, you are a definite suck-up, for sure.

MOUSES!

Yeah.  You.

YEAH.  YOU.

YEAH...

What's that, Peepers?  Why am I yellin' at my sister Tobias?

Well...

Well I'm not really yellin', per se.  It's more of a...  A raising-my-voice kinda thing.

Sorta.

Maybe.

Just a tad.

Why?  What have you heard?

Awww...  MOUSES!

Caught in the act and everythin'.

Okay Peepers, answer me this.  How come, no matter what Toby does, no matter how naughty she might be, she never gets in trouble?  Why?  WHY?  I can't even think of the last time she was scolded.  I'm not sure she has ever been scolded.  It's possible that not even in the whole history of scoldin', has my sister, Tobias, ever been scolded.

It's like she's immune, or somethin'.

Immune to the scoldin', I mean.

Now one of us other cats does somethin'. Somethin' HARDLY EVEN WORTH NOTICIN', and we're scolded, for sure.

Why, just the other day...

What?  What's that, Peepers?  I shouldn't tattle on my fur-sibs, you say?  I shouldn't be tellin' you 'bout all the naughty stuff they have done?

WELL HOW ELSE ARE YOU GONNA FIND OUT?

MOUSES!

Of all the moused-up, stupid things for the peep to say.  I mean, here I am, HELPIN' HER OUT, and she's not appreciative in the least.

MOUSES!

You know, it's no wonder you're so clueless as to what goes on in this house, Peepers.  It's no wonder at all.

Why, just the other day...

Ummm..  Never mind.

That might have been about me.

MOUSES!

Anyway, like I was sayin', it seems to me, Tobias can get away with anythin' and everythin', while the rest of us cats can't get away with a thing.

AND IT'S NOT FAIR, I SAY.

MOUSES!

I know she's just kitten-sized.  I know she's super little.  I know she's only like half my weight.

But just 'cause she's tiny, she shouldn't be gettin' away with mischief.

If anyone is gonna be gettin' away with mischief, that anyone should be me.

MOUSES!

You peeps are blind to Tobias' faults. You're as blind as blind can be.

Why, just the other day...

How do you KNOW I'm about to tattle on her?

I can't even get away with tattlin', these days.

Awww...  MOUSES!

outta my way

"Oomph!  Er!  Argh!  Ugh!"

"OUTTA MY WAY!"

"MOUSES!"

"Hey, that's my line," I told my sister.  "You go get your own."

"Line?" she questioned. "What line?  There wasn't any line.  MOUSES!"

I rolled my eyes and gave my head a good shake. "Not that kind of line, Mason.  I meant the mouses bit.  That's what I say.  You know, MOUSES!"

Mason looked right through me like I had turned invisible or somethin'.

MOUSES!

"So anyway..." I began, again.

"Are you still here?" Mason asked me.  "I thought I told you to get out of my way.  Or was that Andy I told?"

I narrowed my eyes this time, instead of rolling 'em, on account of the rollin' thing not havin' had any effect.  "So like I was sayin', Mason, about that line..."

"You're STILL here?" she asked.  "And by the way, there wasn't any line."

I opened my mouth, thought better of it, and closed it again.

"There was so a line," stated Andy, paws firmly on his hips.

Okay, so in actuality, Andy's paws were firmly planted on the ground, and not his hips, but you get the picture, I am sure.

"There was SO a line," Andy restated.  "There was a line right there, and I happened to be in it."

"What kinda line are we talkin' about here?" I asked.  "Ummm...  Never mind," I added, after seein' the looks on my fur-sibs' faces.

"Was not," cried Mason.

"Was too," answered Andy.

"Was not!" repeated Mason.

"Was..."

"ENOUGH ALREADY!"  Seein' I had gotten their attention, I lowered my voice to ask, "So what is it exactly that happened here?

"Well, I..."  both Mason and Anderson began, speaking in unison.

I let out a low growl in warning.

"Ladies first," acquiesced Andy, offerin' a paw to Mason.  "Oh yeah, I forgot!  You're no lady.  Bwahahahahahaha!  I'll go first."

Well that did it.  If you could have seen the look on my sister Mason's face...

MOUSES!

"Of all the..." began Mason.  "I am too a lady.  TAKE THAT!" and she thumped Andy across the face with a paw.

"Hey Mason," I hissed, "you're sorta provin' the long-haired marmie freak's point there."

Mason glared at me.  If looks could kill.

I backed away, addin', "Just sayin'...  MOUSES!"

"Peep #1 was putting the fanciest of the feasts on a plate, and I..." Mason started.

"She was puttin' the fanciest of the feasts on MY plate, Mason," Andy interjected.  "Your plate was there," and he pointed to the plate on the right.  "My plate was here," he said, pointing to the plate on the left.  "Right here.  Right here, in front of me.  Right where my plate should be."

I sat back on my haunches.  Lifting a paw in Andy's direction, I motioned for him to continue.

"I was standing right there.  I was watching the peep put the fanciest of the feasts, on MY plate, when all of a sudden, seemingly out of nowhere, Mason appeared.  She yowled, and she howled, and she..."

"I DID NOT," Mason cried.

"You did too," Andy sneered.  "You came out of nowhere, meowing like no cat has ever meowed before, crying, "OUTTA MY WAY!"

Mason considered Andy's claim for a bit.  Scratching behind one ear, she said, "Okay, so maybe I did.  But it's not like my behaviour wasn't warranted."

"You're under warranty?" Andy asked, incredulously.

I put a paw over Mason's mouth.  "Just let it go," I whispered under my breath.

Silence.

"Okay, so Mason," I began, "what happened next?"

Mason considered my question.  "Well...  Well I suppose that was when I pushed Andy aside, and... But it was a very ladylike push, I should add."

"Ladylike my tail!" and Andy stomped a paw on the floor.  "You swung those hips of yours in my direction, knocking me right off my paws, and..."

"It was a VERY LADYLIKE push," Mason repeated.  "Andy was in my way.  He needed to move."

"Andy," Andy said, pointing to himself, "was right where Andy was supposed to be.  Right there in front of Andy's plate."

"Quit talkin' about yourself in the third person," I told my brother.  "It's weird.  MOUSES!"

"Sorry," and Anderson lowered his head, sheepishly.

"No probs.  Now, where were we?" I looked from Mason to Andy, and back to Mason again.  "Mason, WHY did you feel the need to push Andy out of your way?"

"Because I was hungry," Mason answered, with a questioning lilt to her voice.

From experience, I knew that although it sounded like a question, it was not meant as such, but rather, as more of a statement of the obvious.  And to answer said statement of the obvious could very well be detrimental to my health.

So I didn't.  Answer it, I mean.

MOUSES!

"So anyway..."

"Oh for goodness sake," and Mason interrupted me.  "Look, it's as simple as this.  I was hungry. Peep #1, for some unfathomable reason, put the plates down first, before filling them.  Then, if you can believe it, she had the nerve to put food in Anderson's plate before mine."  Mason turned toward me, and seeing a look of shock on my face, she cried, "I know!  Can you believe it?  So OF COURSE I had to push Andy out of my way, to get to the food first.  Like I said, simple," and she sat back on her haunches, staring back and forth at Andy and myself.

"It was rude," Andy hissed.

"It was NECESSARY," Mason hissed in return.

"IT WAS STUPID!" I cried, louder than either of my fur-sibs' hisses.  "It was stupid as stupid as stupid can be.  It was..."

"Oh there you are, Seville," Peep #1 said as she re-entered the kitchen, in that oh-so-sweet - almost to the point of bein' sickly, but not quite - voice she reserves just for me.

The voice she uses, just with me, on account of my bein' able to trash-talk her on my blog and stuff. She's doin' her best to keep in my good favour, and...

ANYWAY...

"Seville darling, would you like some of the fanciest of the feasts, too?" asked the peep.

"OUTTA MY WAY!" I cried, pushing Mason and Andy aside.

Scampering over to Peep #1, I wrapped myself around her ankles, and gave her a head-butt or two.

And off in the background...

"Of all the nerve," Mason growled.

"He pushed me, too!" Andy squawked.

And in unison, I heard them both cry, "MOUSES!"

in stitches

"MOUSES!"

Oh my mouses, Peepers.  Did I hear you yell, MOUSES?  Are you okay, Peepers? Are you sure?  How come you were yelling 'bout the mouses?

Uh Peepers...   May I ask...

What the mouses did you do to your knittin'?

I TOLD you you should teach Mason how to knit.  With those thumbs of that polydactyl sister's of mine, I bet she could learn, for sure.  AND I BET, she wouldn't be doin' to her knittin' what you just did to yours.

By the way, what IS it that you did?

And by the other way, how come there's a part of your knittin' needle lyin' there, down on the floor?   And when I say part, I mean part.  As in, just a part and not the whole needle.

QUIT YOUR GRIPING, WOMAN!  Can you not see I'm tryin' to be nice to you, here?  Take an interest in you and your knittin', EVEN THOUGH you're not knittin' anythin' for me?

But back to that needle.  Is it supposed to be lyin' there on the floor?

Sorry.  A better question would be, is it SUPPOSED to come apart like that?  Break apart into two pieces, I mean.

Ah, I see.  It just broke.  Broke all on its own.  Broke right there and then.  When you were knittin'.

Hmmm...

And it's not supposed to do that, I assume.

What did I tell you 'bout your gripin'?  MOUSES!

Hmmm...

And may I also assume that those stitches you're tryin' to hold onto, ever-so-carefully with your fingers, are not supposed to be all loose like that?  That they're supposed to actually be ON the needle?

Hmmm...

Which part?

Which part of what?

Which part of the needle.  MOUSES!

I shall rephrase my question.  Are all those loose stitches supposed to be on the part of the needle still in your hands, or the part of the needle lyin' over there on the floor?

More griping?  MOUSES!

Well Peepers, I think you're gonna have to dig out another needle and try to pick up all those stitches and...

Hehehehehee...

What's that, Peepers?  Why am I laughin'?  Well...

Well I was just thinkin' that you pickin' up stitches could make a game.  You know, like that game 'bout pickin' up sticks, 'cept this would be 'bout stitches.

But a better question would be, how come you're not?  Not laughin', I mean.

MORE GRIPING?  MOUSES!

Fine.  Suit yourself.  I'll just leave you to it while I go back into the kitchen and try to score some more snacks with the second peep.

"MOUSES!"

Oh my mouses, Peepers?  Are you okay?  Why the mouses are you yellin' mouses again?  You havin' trouble pickin' up all those sti...

MOUSES, PEEPERS!  Now your needle is in three parts.  Three.  As in THREE!

Now it's my turn to yell MOUSES, for sure. MOUSES!

And by the way, what the mouses ARE you doin' to those knittin' needles?

Here.  Let me see that needle.

Hmmm...  HMMM...  HMMM...

Okay Peepers, I've figured it out.  This here metal part is supposed to be attached to this here plastic tube-like part, which, in turn, is supposed to be attached to the other metal part, on its other end.  BUT INSTEAD, the two metal parts, and the plastic part, have all kinda fallen apart, into three separate parts.

So you already knew that, huh?

Hmmm...

Uh, did you also know that now you have even more loose stitches that are no longer on the needle and...

Oh, you knew 'bout those too?

Hmmm...

Well do you happen to know how all this mayhem came about?

You say you were just knittin' away on that one circular needle when it decided to make like an amoeba and divide itself into two, causing you to drop a bunch of stitches, and when you finally picked up all those dropped stitches and fixed things up, the knittin' needle decided to make like an amoeba again, and divide itself into three?

Really?

REALLY?

Okay, again I must ask... WHAT THE MOUSES ARE YOU DOIN' TO THOSE KNITTIN' NEEDLES?

I mean, I don't think knittin' needles are supposed to make like amoebas at all, but I'll tell you what, I'll go check on that for you and...

What's that?  What?  WHAT?  PEEPERS, I CAN'T HEAR YOU ON ACCOUNT OF YOUR YELLIN' MOUSES SO LOUDLY.

Well I CAN hear you, but all I can hear is mouses this and mouses that and I'm pretty sure you have more to say than just mouses and...

I'll tell you what, Peepers.  I'll just head back into the kitchen and let you get on with pickin' up all those dropped stitches.

And when you're done with that, you can start lookin' for all the pieces of your knittin' needle.  It'll be a little like lookin' for a needle in a haystack, 'cept in three parts.  THREE PARTS! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!  You know, on account of your one circular knittin' needle, now bein' three separate useless pieces of knittin' needle and...

QUIT YOUR GRIPIN', WOMAN!

You had best pick up all those stitches before I start peeing my britches from laughin' so hard.

Not that I actually wear any britches, 'cause you know, I'm a cat, and cats don't wear britches. Mainly on account of our tails gettin' in the way.  But that, my friends, is another topic for another day.  MOUSES!

under the mistletoe

Oof!  Oaf!  Lemme go, woman!  MOUSES!

I said, LEMME GO!!!

MOUSES!

You hard of hearin' these days, Peepers?  You been listenin' to too many Christmas carols and the like?  You blown an eardrum or somethin' like that?

OH MY MOUSES!  Were you listenin' to yourself?  Were you caterwaulin', and you heard yourself caterwalin', and your ears went on strike?

Nah, that couldn't be it.  If ears could go on strike on account of hearin' you caterwaul, MY ears would have gone strike long ago.

LEMME GO!!!

Fine.  Just do it.  Just do it and get it over with.  Let me close my eyes.  Let me hold my breath. Let's just get this over with and be done with it.

EWWW.....

MOUSES!!!

Excuse me Peepers, I have to go have a bath.  I need to wash off all those peep germs you left behind when you kissed me.  MOUSES!

And if I haven't told you this before - although I'm pretty sure that I have - let me tell you it now. KISSES ON THE TOP OF THE HEAD ARE EXTREMELY DIFFICULT TO WASH OFF.  It's not like I can reach up there with my tongue.  MOUSES!

For cryin' out loud.  Peeps and their moused-up balls of mistletoe hangin' all over the place. MOUSES!

Any of you cats out there havin' issues with peeps thinkin' that just because a ball of mistletoe is hangin' from the ceilin', they get to scoop you up in their arms, and kiss you?  Any of you cats havin' trouble with that?  Anybody?

Well at my house, there's a mistletoe kissin' epidemic goin' on, and let me tell you, it's as gross as all get out.  MOUSES!

And you can't even build up any immunity!

At least with stuff like uh...  um...  chicken pox, peeps don't get 'em twice. But mistletoe kisses? You can get 'em more than once in the same day!

Sometimes more than once in the same hour!

MOUSES!

Just this mornin', Peep #1 was scoopin' me up and kissin' me, sayin' the Mistletoe Clause of 2014 allowed her to do so.  And no sooner was I done washin' off all her peep germs from the first incident, why, she was kissin' me again.  MOUSES!

It's stuff like this that gets a kitty in trouble with Santa Claus.  I mean, DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MANY TIMES I'VE CRIED MOUSES TODAY?

DO HAVE YOU ANY IDEA HOW MANY TIMES I'VE CRIED MOUSES IN THE LAST HOUR?

MOUSES!

And what's with the idea of kissin' kitties under balls of poisonous berries, anyway?  Who came up with a stupid idea like that in the first place?

Humph!  Probably some stupid peep.  MOUSES!

You've heard of the kiss of death, have you?  Sounds more like the kissin' ball of death, to me. MOUSES!

Now if Peep #1 wanted to hang up bunches of catnip and kiss me under those...

Now THAT'S an idea I could get behind, for sure.

Or underneath.

Whatever.

Bottom line is, stupid ol' balls of mistletoe hangin' from the ceilin' do not - I repeat, do NOT - entitle peeps to take liberties with us cats.

And please...  PLEASE... For mousin' sake...  If you're gonna go around kissin' us, don't do it on the tops of our heads! Peep germs left on the tops of our heads are way to difficult to wash off by ourselves.

MOUSES!

the fine nuances

Previously on Nerissa's Life...

The sound of horses approaching interrupted Mason's explanation and the two cats, along with all the squirrels, looked off toward the noise.

"It's the Sheriff!" cried one of the squirrels.

"Run!" cried another.

"Hide!" yelled a third.

"How are your climbin' skills, sis?" asked Seville, and the two cats dashed up the tree, as high as they could go.

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

Seville, Mason, and the squirrels hid in the oak tree, while the Sheriff and his men milled about below.  Every now and then a horse would rear up on its hind legs, and Seville was sure someone would look up, spotting them, but instead they seemed more content to bicker amongst themselves. "Just like me with my fur-sibs," Seville whispered to himself.  "Hehehe..."

"Neither hide nor hair.  There is not a trace of them to be found," stated one of the men.  "'Tis time we return to Nottingham to ensure we are back by nightfall," and with that, the men galloped off on their horses, in the direction from where they had originally come.

Once out of sight, the squirrels scampered down the tree.  Mason and Seville followed.

"Who were those men?" Mason asked, "and why were they looking for you?  I assume it was you they were after."

"Those are the men we believe to have captured our friend, Robin," said one squirrel.

"And may be holding him captive as we speak!" piped up another.

Seville sat back on his haunches, for this was the position in which he always did his best thinking. "Hmmm...  I don't think they have your friend.  I have a sneaking suspicion that someone told them to look for you by this oak tree.  After all, they did come all this way and stop right here.  It's like they had intel or somethin'.  But if that intel had come from Robin, surely he would have told them you'd hide in the tree.  Up in its branches.  But none of 'em ever looked up.  I thought they were gonna, for sure, but no one did.  Their intel must have come from somewhere else."

"But if the Sheriff and his men don't have Robin, who does?" asked one of the squirrels.  "If Robin could come home, he would.  He must know we're worried about him.  The only way he wouldn't come home is if he couldn't come home.  Couldn't because he was being held captive."

"Perhaps he's being held captive by someone other than the Sheriff," suggested Mason.

"Well that's all we need!" and one of the squirrels threw the acorns he was holding up into the air. "ANOTHER enemy running about, trying to imprison us."

Seville narrowed his eyes.  "I don't suppose you've ever encountered anyone form the Weasel Syndicate, have you?  'Cause this is just the sort of thing those dastardly weasels would do."

Seville waited for the squirrels to answer but was met with nothing but blank stares.

"Guess not.  Guess there aren't any weasels involved.  But somebody sure did tell those men where to look for you, and your friend Robin is missin' and..."

"But there's no evidence that the two are actually connected," interjected Mason.  Robin might be missing for an entirely different reason and, I suspect, it has something to do with this oak tree."

"You believe it is the tree holding our friend captive?" asked one of the squirrels.  "Because if you do, you sound very foolish, indeed.  An oak tree holding a squirrel captive.  Ridiculous!"

"It does sound kind of hinky, sis," Seville hissed under his breath.  "We have an oak tree back home and we have lots of squirrels, too.  Never once have I ever seen any of 'em bein' held captive. MOUSES!"

"BOYS," and Mason stomped a paw with disgust.  She grabbed her measuring tape and held it up in the air.  "Do you remember how, before I was so rudely interrupted by those men on horses, I was trying to explain to you about the size differential between this oak tree and the one in our driveway? Well I won't go into too many details because the math is very complicated and I doubt any of you would understand..."

Seville opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it.

"So I'll jump right to the chase.  This tree and the tree at the end of our driveway are interconnected, Seville.  There's some sort of spacial conduit network between the two."

"More magic!" cried a squirrel.

"It has nothing to do with magic," Mason scolded, "unless you squirrels were magically shooting arrows at my brother and me earlier today."

Seville tugged at his sister's tail.  "Well actually, they were shootin' arrows at us, earlier. Remember?  We were standin' by the tree and they were shootin'..."

"I MEANT AT OUR HOUSE!"  Mason took a deep breath to calm herself.  "Remember?  Remember the arrows that were shooting out of the tree at us, when we were back at our own house, in our own yard?"

"Oh yeah...  Hey you squirrels, you.  How come you were shootin' at us before?  MOUSES!"

The squirrels looked at one another and began to chatter, discussing the situation.  "We weren't shooting any arrows at you at all until, as if by magic, you appeared by this tree."

"Well before we appeared by your tree, we were by OUR tree in our very own yard, nowhere near this tree of yours, and there were arrows comin' at us left, right and center.  MOUSES!"  Seville glared at the squirrels.  "So what do have to say to that?"

Mason stepped between her brother and the squirrels.  "That's what I'm trying to explain, Seville. They weren't shooting at us.  They were shooting at the tree.  Isn't that right?  Target practice or something like that?"

The squirrels all nodded their heads in agreement.

"The arrows must have hit the tree and been transported to twenty-first century Canada by the spacial conduit network.  And then you and I, while investigating the appearance of the arrows, were transported here."

"But what does this have to do with our missing friend?" demanded a squirrel.  "Is it your claim that he has been transported to another land?  BY A TREE?"

"Well not by the tree, exactly, but by the spacial..."

"Yeah, I don't think they're gonna understand all the fine nuances, sis.  Just tell 'em Robin disappeared in the tree," Seville suggested.

"But of course he did!" cried a squirrel.  "We told you when you first arrived:  Robin climbed the oak tree in search of acorns, and we never saw him again."

"Uh Mason..." and Seville pulled at his sister's tail again.  "I don't suppose you've given any thought to usin' that spacial conduit network to get us back home, have you, 'cause I really need to use the litter box, and I don't see any litter boxes lyin' about 'round here and..."

"Oh go do your business behind one of those trees over there!" and Mason pointed toward the edge of the clearing.  "BOYS.  Now where was I..."

"You were explaining that Robin is being held captive by the oak tree."

"TOLD YOU THEY WOULDN'T UNDERSTAND THE FINE NUANCES!" yelled Seville from the edge of clearing.

Mason put a paw on the shoulder of one of the squirrels and spoke very gently.  "I am very sorry to have to tell you this, but I believe your friend Robin is lost.  He has travelled to a far off land called Canada, and has found himself in another time."

"He had BETTER not be lost!" cried Seville, who had returned to Mason's side after doing his business.  "Mason, if Robin is trapped in twenty-first century Canada, we're trapped here.  Here. Wherever this is.  Not to mention whenever."

The two cats stared at one another a moment and then cried in unison, "MOUSES!"

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

Be sure to return Wednesday for the conclusion of our adventure.

puddle water!

Whatcha doin', Peepers?  It's like...  two-thirty in the morning.  Little early to be getting up, don't you think?

Oh yeah, I forgot about that.  I forgot that Mason didn't come in earlier when you called her.  You goin' out to check on her again?

Nah, I'll just watch from a window.

Little did the peep know, Mason was busy outside, countin' her thumbs.

Just kidding!  Not about the having thumbs part.  My sister Mason does have thumbs. She just doesn't waste her time counting 'em.  Why would she?  She already knows she has two.  MOUSES!

"I'm coming!  I'm coming!  Oh no! MOUSES!"  And that was exactly what Mason cried as she watched the mouse she had been carrying in her mouth, scamper across the driveway, before hiding in a flower bed.

"OH NO!  MOUSES!" And THAT was what Mason cried as Peep #1 swooped down from above, grabbed my sister around her middle, and hauled her up into her arms.

"Let me go!  Let me go!" Mason cried as she did the squirmy-wormy dance, trying to get out of the peep's grasp.  "He's getting away!  He's getting away!  Let me at him!  LET ME AT HIM!"

Needless to say, my sister Mason was brought inside for the night and the mouse escaped further capture.  MOUSES!

"Of all the ungrateful...  MOUSES!" and Mason stomped off into the family room, grumbling the entire way.

"She's not listening to you." I told my sister.  "Be thankful it's two-thirty in the morning and she's too tired to lecture you on the catchin' of critters."

"But I was bringing that critter home for her!" and Mason stomped a paw once more for effect.  "As I said, of all the ungrateful..."

"She's already back in bed, Mason.  Give it up."  I snickered as I added, "Just like you had to give up the critter.  Hehehehehee..."

"It took me a really long time to catch that mouse in the first place," Mason grumbled and lifting a hind leg, she began to give herself a bath.  "Mice are hard to come by in our yard," she muttered between licks.  "We've pretty much moused the whole place out.  And there I was, so exciting to bring the one little guy I managed to catch, home to Peep #1 and..."

"Yeah, yeah...  That's me back to bed.  Night Mason!" and I walked away, leaving my sister still grumbling as she washed her other hind leg.

But to tell you the truth, Mason was right.  It is hard to find mice around our house.  We really have kinda moused the whole place out.

Birds, though, are a totally different story.

You should SEE the birdies out there.

Why just this morning, a small flock of black birds of some kind were playing on my driveway, 'cause Peep #1 had put the sprinkler on for the pansies, and some of the water was hitting the pavement.  Those birdies were splashing about in the water, taking a sip now and then, and then splashing some more.  Fluffing their feathers and preening.  They were having such fun!

Frolicking.  Yup, that's what those birdies were doin', for sure.  Frolicking.

In fact, the birdies were havin' such fun that the peep didn't have the heart to turn off the sprinkler until they all flew away.

Of course...

Of course, the reason they flew off was none other than my sister Mason.

Yup, she sure does get around.

After sleeping in, on account of her late night the night before, Mason enjoyed a bite of brunch.

You know, brunch.  That meal eaten between - not necessarily in place of - breakfast and lunch, although in this case, Mason did miss her breakkies 'cause like I said, she had slept in.

Anyway...  Mason had some brunch before heading outside.  I think she was planning on checking out those flower beds, to see if she could find her mousie from the night before.

No sooner was Mason outside, but she spotted...

Bet you're thinking she spotted those birdies, huh?  Yeah.  Bet you're thinkin' that, for sure.  But if you are thinking that, you'd be totally wrong.

Well not totally.  I'm sure Mason did see the birdies but the birdies were not what caught my sister's attention, and I know this to be true because all of a sudden I heard a cry of...

PUDDLE WATER!

Oh yeah, my sister Mason is a connoisseur of the puddles.  Just as some peeps enjoy a fine wine, my sister enjoys a fine puddle, for sure.  MOUSES!

Doesn't matter how many bowls of clean, cool, fresh water the peeps put out for us in the kitchen and stuff, Mason ALWAYS prefers a puddle.  She says puddle water is tastier and to tell you the truth, I have to agree with her 'bout that.  MOUSES!

Anyway...  The next thing I knew, Mason had raced toward the sprinkler and skidded to a stop next to the largest of the puddles.

And that, my friends, would be 'bout the same time when all those birdies flew away.

Now some cats might be offended by such rudeness but not my sister Mason.  No sirree.  Mason just looked around and grinned happily, "All the more puddle for me!"

After downing 'bout half a puddle, she headed back toward the house, looking for that mousie from the night before.

And if I'm not mistaken, I think I might have heard Mason saying under her breath, "I'll save the rest of that puddle for later, to wash down that mousie. Now where is he..."

MOUSES!

rodents and MOUSES!

Rodents.  MOUSES!  No, I meant squirrels.

So anyway, we have squirrels, but this, my friends, is nothing new. Those big ol' grey squirrels took over the old oak tree at the end of my driveway ages and ages ago so I suppose, when I really think about it, this is just part two of the same ol' squirrelly saga. Or could it be part three?

Whatever it is, it has been going on for like forever and that is for sure.  MOUSES!

The last few days, we've been having some unseasonably pleasant weather and the squirrels have been out in full force, running up and down the oak tree and across the driveway and front yard.  I'm not quite sure what they're doing, though.  I mean, besides the running.  And the climbing, of course.  They just seem to be running here and there and pretty much everywhere with very little purpose, if you ask me.

Of course, the squirrels did not ask me and that is exactly what they said when I gave them my opinion of their running about without any purpose.

Well technically, it was more of a who-asked-you-anyway kind of thing.  And there was something about my being nosey and my advice being unsolicited and a few other unmentionables that I cannot repeat here as Nerissa's Life is a family-friendly blog and the unmentionables weren't very friendly at all.  Like I said, they were unmentionable.

Can someone please tell me what is so wrong with asking a squirrel if they know how to read a map?  MOUSES!

Of course, the possibility of the squirrels not having a map in the first place was very real, indeed, and if that were true, their inability to read one was neither here nor there, I suppose.  But considering the amount of running they were doing here and there, a map would have come in handy for sure. MOUSES!

So I set about making 'em one.

First of all, I had to decide what kind of map I would make.  Would I make a treasure map, leading the squirrels to their precious stash of acorns and the like?  Was that the kind of map they could best use?

The answer to that was yes, of course, however as I had no direct knowledge of where they had stashed their stash, a treasure map just wasn't in the cards.  Their secret cache would remain hidden, for sure.  MOUSES!

So I thought to myself and I thought and I thought and I thought and after thinking for a very long time, I realized that what these squirrels needed even more than a treasure map was a map showing 'em where they were going and you know, how to actually get there in a less roundabout route.  From my observations, even with all the running they were doing, they were getting absolutely nowhere at all.  It was almost like they were travelling in circles or something.  MOUSES!

And that's when it came to me.  Squirrel Town!  Way back when, I once heard tell of such a place and it seemed to me that a place called Squirrel Town would be the perfect place for squirrels, for sure. Perhaps it was just such a place to which they were attempting to travel but had been unable to find, all this time.  You know, on account of their not having a map.

So I immediately set about making such a map.  A map leading them from the big old oak tree at the end of my driveway to the long lost place known as Squirrel Town.

Unfortunately, my map-making attempts were thwarted even before I had begun.  Basically, I couldn't figure out where this Squirrel Town was, myself, and it turns out that in order to make a map, one must have some idea as to where the places one is trying to put on the map are, in order to put 'em there.  Who knew?  MOUSES!

But you know, I've seen maps from way back when, when European peeps were mapping out Canada and stuff.  Some of those maps looked suspiciously incorrect, if you ask me.  Of course they, like the squirrels, didn't ask me 'bout that, either.  MOUSES!

So with both the treasure map and the map to Squirrel Town not happening, I decided to take the easy way out.  Borrowing a bright red marker from Peep #1, I put a large 'X' on the big ol' oak tree and wrote underneath it, "You Are Here."  Then I stood back to admire my handiwork.

And that, my friends, is when I discovered one of the squirrels' secret caches of acorns.  Yes, I discovered it as hundreds of acorns rained down upon my head.  MOUSES!

Apparently, squirrels take great offence to being insulted and they found my little X-marks-the-spot thing to be rather...  well...  insulting.  I have no idea why.

The squirrels claim they already knew where they were although truth be told, I don't think I believe 'em.  If they already knew where they were, then why were they running all over the place looking like they had no idea where they were going?  MOUSES!

And to add insult to injury...

And I should just mention that the injury is mine after being bombarded by those acorns.

But anyway, to add insult to injury, Peep #1 has told me I must apologize to the squirrels.  I, of course, told her that my doing so would be crazy.  I believe the words I used were, "That's crazy that is!  Crazier than a squirrel making nut pies kind of crazy, for sure."  Unfortunately, the peep didn't buy it for a moment.  MOUSES!

I don't know.  I think we should just get 'em one of those hamster wheel thingamajigs.  I mean, they appear to like to run in circles anyway.  Why not have 'em run on a big 'ol wheel?  When you think about it, it's kind of the same thing.  Kind of, anyway.

And as the wheel would be stationary, they would always know where they were.  They would always be there.  There on the wheel.  On the hamster wheel, marking the spot and thus eliminating the need for a map.  MOUSES!

the doors

Doors.  DOORS.  Darn those darned doors. You know the ones...  the doors!

Nope, I'm not talking about that musical group.  Not talking about them at all. Sometimes, a door is simply a door. MOUSES!

Yup, Seville the Cat here, and I'm having some trouble with doors.

You ever notice how whatever side of the door you're on, it's always the wrong side of the door to be?  This is particularly disconcerting for us cats on account of many of us being dependent upon peeps when it comes to the opening of said doors.  In other words, when you find yourself on the wrong side of a door, you need a peep to come help you out by opening it.  MOUSES!

I encountered just such a dilemma only this morning.  That's right, my friends, I was stymied by a door.  MOUSES!

Moments earlier, I had gone into the dining room slash living room in search of a sunpuddle.  There were sunpuddles galore in the dining room to be found.  Great big sunny sunpuddles filled with gloriously bright sunshine.  But no sooner had I staked out the best puddle when some ol' peep had to come along and close the door between the dining room and kitchen.

Now normally, I wouldn't have been overly concerned with this event as the sunpuddle I was bathing in was an amazing sunpuddle to be sure but as I was starting my morning convolutions, I happened to hear the sound of a tin being opened in the kitchen.  Knowing full well that tins contain things I enjoy eating, I found myself wanting to leave said sunpuddle and check out the kitchen.  Of course, that was when I discovered that the door leading to the kitchen had been closed.  MOUSES!

To be perfectly honest, it wasn't entirely closed.  It was, however, closed enough so that even though I could see into the kitchen, I couldn't quite get into the room without squeezing through the narrow space between the edge of the sliding pocket door and the..  the uh...  pocket.  MOUSES!

So I sat there.  I sat there and sat there and SAT THERE.  Finally after I don't know how many hours - okay, it was probably more like ten minutes but felt like hours, to be sure - Peep #1 noticed my face staring forlornly at her through the opening.

Of course, I could have gone over to the other living room door which was standing wide open but I didn't think of that at the time.  Besides, that would have entailed my walking all the way through the living room and passing the front door and traipsing all around the stairs leading to the basement and hiking across the kitchen floor.  Pretty roundabout way of doing things if you ask me, especially as Peep #1 was just standing in the kitchen doing nothing important at the time rather than busying herself, attending to my every want and need.  MOUSES!

So like I was saying, FINALLY Peep #1 noticed me sitting there and slid open the door so that I could enter the kitchen.  Luckily for me, before I actually ventured across the threshold, I realized that the tin of food sitting on the counter was not one of my favourites so I decided to go back to my sunpuddle and not bother myself with entering the kitchen after all.

But my point to be made is this; give a cat a closed door and you can bet your whiskers that cat will be on the wrong side of it.  MOUSES!

You know, more than once I've heard the peeps discussing the idea that if they were ever to win the lottery, the first thing they should do is employ a full-time doorman for us cats.  I say, BRING IT ON.

To tell you the truth however, I don't think my peeps need to employ a full-time doorman.  We already have them. How many doormen do they think we cats need?

Of course, they could benefit from some classes as to how to improve their own doormanship skills. Apparently, opening doors doesn't come as naturally to peeps as one might think.  Did I mention how I had to wait a whole ten minutes before Peep #1 opened that door for me this morning? MOUSES!

And it's not just the big doors they have issues with, either.

A couple of days ago, my sister Mason got locked in the broom closet.  Well it's not so much a closet as a tall, narrow cupboard but it is where the peeps keep the broom along with a few other things.  Doesn't really matter what it's called.  What matters is that Mason got locked in it.

There she was, having a nice little nap in that ol' closeted cupboard when some stupid peep closed the door on her.  Could you believe it?  Mason doesn't know which peep did the dirty deed on account of her being asleep at the time but she's pretty sure it was, in fact, a peep and not one of us cats.  She's probably right about that because truth be told, we cats are far more interested in the opening of doors than the closing of them.

So poor little Mason woke up to find herself locked away in a tiny dark cubby she had to apparently share with a broom.  MOUSES!

Luckily for Mason, that particular door doesn't stay closed all that well due to the shoddy workmanship of whoever happened to make it so she was able to burst through the door by flinging her shoulder against it.  The door opened with a bang and the peeps were quite surprised to see Mason saunter out of said closet.  Mason, ever one to think quickly on her paws, gave both peeps a dirty look.  Like I said earlier, she didn't know which peep had closed the door on her but she was pretty darned sure it had been one of them.

About an hour later, Mason returned to find said cupboard door closed and was not able to get back inside.  MOUSES!

Bottom line is, peeps don't seem to understand that if they close a door, any door at all, odds are, there is going to be a cat on the wrong side of said door and no matter how many times you try to explain it to them, they just can't comprehend it.  It's like a mental block or something they seem to have.

Personally, I'm beginning to give up on the idea of my peeps ever really understanding the science of opening doors for cats and am therefore investigating this creature known as the dormouse.  I'm thinking this might be a mouse capable of opening and closing doors for us cats when we need 'em to be opened and closed.  Not quite sure what makes 'em different from regular mice but maybe they come with a uniform or something.  You know, a uniform to differentiate themselves from mice who don't open and close doors. And I'm also thinking that even if these dormice have to struggle with the opening of big heavy doors, they'll still be better at the job than my peeps.  I mean, did I mention how I had to wait A WHOLE TEN MINUTES this morning before Peep #1 opened the kitchen door for me?  Did I mention that before?  Ten minutes of my life, lost, never to be found again. MOUSES!

And if this whole dormouse thing works out, I'm going to look into the possibility of finding myself a tinmouse.  If a dormouse opens doors, surely a tinmouse would open tins.  Someone to open tins of my favourite food at my every whim.  I don't know about you but I could sure do with a mouse like that.  MOUSES!

WHY?

Why?  WHY?  Why would anyone do that? WHY???

As you might imagine, there is only one word for this situation and that word is, MOUSES!

Okay, two words. Mouses and why.

I think we've all seen the latest Internet craze.  The latest Internet craze that has out-crazed every other crazy craze out there.  You know the one. The one where peeps scare cats with cucumbers.  It's a craze and it's crazy, too, because...  Well just because it is.  Crazy as...  Truth be told, I'm not sure anything else compares.  Like I kind of implied, it's the craziest craze of all time.  MOUSES!

First of all, why?  Yeah, I know, I'm having a tough time getting past the ol' why.

Why would anyone even want to scare their cats?  I mean, these are otherwise reasonable and sensible peeps who live with cats whom they supposedly love and yet, they're out there, scaring them.  On purpose.  And getting it on video, too!  MOUSES!

Let me tell you something.  If my peeps were ever to wake up one morning and say to themselves, I think I'll scare Seville today and get it on tape...  Well let's just say, that might be the last time my peeps would ever be waking up.  MOUSES!

Perhaps that's a bit of an exaggeration.  I mean, I love my peeps so I would never do them any real harm.  Never any real harm.  But they might start finding deposits of poop left in their shoes.  Just saying...

And they would deserve NOTHIN' less, I can assure you.  MOUSES!

But after asking why, we have to ask, how.  HOW?

Believe it or not, there are peeps out there, right now, as we speak, trying to figure out how these devious cucumber criminal masterminds are scaring us cats but that is not the how to which I am referring.

I don't wanna know how a cucumber might scare me.  I wanna know how someone figured that out in the first place!  I mean, HOW?

Duh, I don't know...  I found this cucumber in the fridge.  What should I do with it?  Should I put it in my salad or...  Oohhh....  I'll see if it will scare the cat!

MOUSES!

I'm telling you, only a peep can think like that.

It...  It...  It...  It's not like the cucumbers just happened upon the cats' food dishes or their sleeping quarters or their toy boxes and lay down beside them, all by themselves.

Seriously, how many peeps out there leave spare cucumbers lying about on their kitchen floor?   Is this something some peeps do?  Is this some sort of weird tradition?

Hmmm...  I bought this case of cucumbers at the market today and have no idea what I should do with it.  Maybe I'll start flinging cucumbers all over the house.  See where the chips - I mean, cucumbers - might fall.  Yeah, that's what I'll do.  Sounds like a fun afternoon.

Again I must say, MOUSES!

Somewhere along the line, the initial cucumbers came in contact with the cats and I'm betting my whiskers that there was peep involvement in the first introductions.

No cat has ever gone lookin' to pick a fight with a cucumber, I can assure you.  MOUSES!

And why cucumbers?  How do cats feel about tomatoes and eggplants and bell peppers, too?  Do they scare us?  Does anyone know?  Does anyone care?  MOUSES!

And why are we concerning ourselves only with fruits in disguise?  Fruits that masquerade themselves as veggies?  I once saw a mean-looking potato.  That thing had twenty-nine eyes.

And then there was that mutated two-headed cabbage....

MOUSES!

AND WHAT ABOUT PICKLES?

That's right, my friends, pickles.  As we all know, pickles are baby cucumbers, imprisoned in glass jars after being drowned in a brine.  And it's not we cats doing this to the baby cucumbers.  It's the peeps doing it, for sure.  So why are the cucumbers participating in the scaring of cats and not in the scaring of peeps?   MOUSES!

And as a cat, would I be scared of a jar of baby cucumbers otherwise known as pickles?

One will never know, my friends, because my peeps are good peeps. My peeps don't go around intentionally looking for things that will scare me. My peeps would never dream of doing anything like that.  And why?

Because I know where my peeps keep their shoes and like I said earlier, I'm not above leaving a little deposit in those shoes as punishment for bad behaviour, if they should ever dream of behaving so badly as to go out of their way to scare me.  MOUSES!