a bull in a china shop

"You know what your problem is, Andy?" I asked my brother.  "Don't bother answerin'.  I know you don't."

Andy, bein' Andy, furrowed his brow.  "Wha?"

"Luckily for you Anderson, I, Seville the Cat, know exactly what your problem is."

"WHA?"

"No need to ask.  No need to thank me, either.  I'm more than willin' to tell you what your problem is."

"WHA???"

"You havin' a seizure or somethin' there, Andy?  You keep repeatin' the same word which, by the way, isn't actually a word at all."

Andy looked dumbfounded.  As usual.  Then he said, "But Seville, I've heard you say wha before."

"It's different for me.  I make up words all the time.  It's part of my charm, you see.  But IT'S NOT PART OF YOURS.  MOUSES!"

"Why?"

"Because there's only one wordsmith in this here family, and that would be me," I explained.  "Now let's get back to that problem of yours.  MOUSES!"

Andy sighed a loud sigh before acquiescing.   "Whatever you say."

"So the thing is, Andy, you're like a bull in a china shop, you see."

"This ain't no china shop," Andy replied.

"Andy, Andy, Andy...  First of all, there ain't no such word as ain't.  MOUSES!  And secondly, I see you're not denying you're like a bull.  Again I must say, MOUSES!"

"But you just used it yourself.  The word ain't, I mean."

"Yeah, yeah..." and I waved off Andy's complaint.  "I used ain't for effect, you see.  That's different.  It's TOTALLY different, for sure.  But let's get back to your problem.  You know, your problem of your bein' like a bull in a china shop.  MOUSES!"

"Actually Seville, the peeps say I'm more like a..."

"A lumbering ox?" I interjected.

Andy growled.  "No, the peeps say I'm like a lion.  Peep #1 says I walk exactly how a lion walks."  He scowled.  "And lions don't lumber."

"Are you SURE?" I asked.

"Yes I'm sure.  I've never ever EVER seen a lion working as a lumberjack.  Not once!"

"A what?  A lumberjack?  What?  Oh," and I shook my head and sighed, "I see."

"I've never seen a lion working in a sawmill, either."

I sighed again, this time, stampin' a paw.  "STOP TALKIN' ABOUT LUMBER, ANDY.  MOUSES!"

"You're the one who brought it up," Andy said, lookin' down at his paws.

"Hmmm...  I guess I kinda did," I agreed.

Although truth be told, I was ONLY agreein' so that my brother would stop talkin' about wood.

"Anyway...  Thing is, Andy, like I said before, you're like a bull in a china shop."  I held up a paw.  "I shall explain."

"This ought to be good," Andy said, sittin' back on his haunches.  "How exactly is our house like a china shop?"

"Oh for the love of mouses," I said.  "I'm not talkin' about our house.  I'm talking 'bout you, and how you're..  You're...  You're...  How you're..."

"How I'm what?" asked Andy.

"How you're...  Oh!  It's so frustratin' tryin' to explain stuff to you, Andy.  Now how should I do this?  Hmmm...  Okay, you know how you're clumsy, right?"

"I am not!" my brother said indignantly.  "You take that back."

"If the peep could take back all the stuff you've broken..."

Andy's mouth gaped wide.  "You take THAT back, too!  I am not clumsy, and I don't go around breaking things..."  He paused.  "I mean, I don't break things all of the time."

I raised a brow.

"I just..  Sometimes...  I..."  It was clear that Andy was gettin' flustered.

"Andy, you leap before you look, and quite frankly, with paws the size of yours, when you're goin' around leapin' haphazardly all over the place without lookin', you land on stuff..."

Andy looked at his paws.

"AND STUFF GETS BROKEN," I finished.

"I'm just strong, Sivvers," Andy pouted.  "I'm stronger than I realise at times.  Peep #1 says I don't know my own strength."

I narrowed my eyes and rubbed my jaw with a paw.  "You sure 'bout that, Andy?  'Cause all I've ever heard her say is that you have really big paws."

"Well I do have big paws," Andy nodded.  "I'm a pretty big cat, Seville."

"Andy, my man," and I rested a paw upon my brother's shoulder.  "You're huge."

"It's 'cause I'm part Coon, they say," he explained.  "Maine Coons are supposed to be big."

"Whatever.  Thing is, Andy, when a cat weighs like twenty pounds, a cat can uh..."

"Yes?"

"Well..."  I wavered.  "Andy, you remember when Peep #1 was making pretty little meringues that day, and you came up to her and started rubbin' up against the backs of her legs?"

Andy thought for a minute before shaking his head.

"Okay, you remember when Peep #1 was TRYING to make pretty little meringues that day, and you came up to her and started rubbin' up against the backs of her legs?"

"Oh yes, I remember that," Andy nodded.  "The peep was making meringues, but they were anythin' but pretty."

"And do you know WHY the meringues weren't pretty?" I asked.

"Because the peep is a lousy baker," Andy replied.

"Well yeah, that kinda goes without sayin'.  I mean, does she ever make nip cookies or nip cake or nip strudel?  OF COURSE NOT.  The peep NEVER makes good stuff like that.  But the day I'm talkin' about was more your fault than hers, except, of course, for her forgettin' to add nip to the meringues in the first place, but..."

"Seville, how is it my fault the peep forgot to add.."

"THAT ISN'T MY POINT!  My point," I began again," is that when she was tryin' to make the nipless meringues she was makin', you came up to her and started throwin' yourself onto the backs of her legs, and you practically knocked her right over!  That, brother dear," and I again stamped a paw for emphasis," is why you're like a bull in a china shop.  See?"


"What does my saying hello to the peep have to do with the price of tea in China?" Andy asked.

"Because...  WAIT A MINUTE.  I never said anythin' about tea bein' sold in China.  China shop.  Bulls.  THAT'S what I'm talkin' about.  NOW do you see?"

"Not really," Andy confessed.  "Perhaps you should start over again from the beginning."

"I would if I could, Andy, but seriously, I think goin' over this once more might very well drive me crazy.  MOUSES!"

chatty Cathy

My goodness, Rushton, you've become a real chatty Cathy, as of late.

"I have not."

Have too.

"HAVE NOT."

Have too.  Every time you see a peep, you're right there, right by their feet, meowin' this and meowin' that, and that and this, and this and that, and...

"I can't be a chatty Cathy, Seville.  Cathy is a GIRLS' name!"

Yeah, but chatty Rushy just sounds weird.  MOUSES!

"But Seville, I'm a boy."

Huh.  Well you have long fur like a girl.

"Boy cats can have long fur, too, Seville.  Just because yours is short all over, it doesn't mean ALL boy cats have short fur.  Besides, I'm mid-lion cut.  I have some short fur, too."

Yeah, 'bout that...  When ARE you gonna let the peep do the fur on your tummy, huh?  Huh, Rushy?  HUH?

"Tomorrow."

You said tomorrow, yesterday.

"Well tomorrow still isn't here yet.  It's only today."

Oh for the love of mouses.  Anyway...  Back to this chattin' business of yours.  Rushy, why are you bein' so chatty these days?  How come you have so much to say?  Why are you such a chatty Cathy, as of late?

"I'm not answering that."

Why?

"Because I'm ignoring you."

Why?

"BECAUSE YOU'RE CALLING ME BY A GIRLS' NAME.  AGAIN."

Rushy, I thought we had covered that.  Anyway, LIKE I SAID, 'bout this chattin' business:  You're CONSTANTLY chattin' to the peeps these days.

"I am?"

You are.

"Oh.  Well it's probably the Maineness of my Coon, coming out."

IT'S WHAT?

"The Maineness of my Coon.  Or maybe it's the Coonness of my Maine.  Or maybe it's just my Coon.  Or MAYBE it's just my Maine.  OR MAYBE it's really, my MANE.  Or..."

Oh for the LOVE of mouses.  Rushy, you sure do sound like a chatty Cathy to me.  YOU'RE ALL CHAT AND NO SENSE.  MOUSES!

"Got it!  I think it's the Coonness of my MANE, because even with my partial lion cut, I still have this beautiful mane."

Yeah, yeah....  Seriously Rushy, you have GOT to start makin' more sense.

"Peep #1 understands me."

Uh...  Right.

"She does!"

Whatever.

"She does too."

Whatever you say there, Bro.  I'll believe you, even if no one else would.  MOUSES!

"Sivvers, you're bein' mean."

I, brother dear, am bein' me.  I would have thought you'd know me by now.  And quit scowlin' like that.  You're gonna give yourself wrinkles.  Not that anyone will be able to see 'em under all that long fur.  Bwahahahahahahaha!!!

"Is that supposed to be funny, Seville?"

Uh...  Yeah.  Yeah, it is.  Why?   Did you think it wasn't?

"I thought it was mean."

Yeah, yeah...  Like I said, Rushy, I'm just bein' me.  And by the way, you never did answer my question.  How come you're such a chatty Cathy these days?

"Because I like to chat.  There, I said it.  Is that answer good enough for you?"

Guess so.  I don't know why you didn't just answer my question in the first place.  MOUSES!

right in the keister

So there I was sittin' in the kitchen, waitin' for some treats, when...

When I happened to see my brother, Rushton, walkin' past my other brother, Andy.

MOUSES!

I know, I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin', what's the big deal about that?

Well...

Well for starters, when Rushton walked past Andy, Andy gave him a smacky paw, right in the keister.

MOUSES!

Now seriously folks, I wouldn't be puttin' my paws anywhere near that long-haired marmie freak of a brother of mine's keister, for one never really knows where his keister may have recently been.

MOUSES!

But Andy, bein' Andy, can't resist smacky-pawin' anyone as they walk past.  Sometimes he gets you in the leg.  Sometimes the side.  And SOMETIMES, the keister.

MOUSES!

Well the next thing was, Rushy was rushin' over to me, complainin' about Andy.  "Did you see that?  Did you see what he did?  Did you see..."

I held up a paw in protest.  In protest of my havin' to listen to his complaints, that is.  "I, Seville the Cat, saw exactly what Anderson did," I told him.  "But to tell you the truth, Rushy, what one long-haired marmie freak of a brother does to another long-haired marmie freak of a brother, is of no interest to me.  MOUSES!"

"But, but, but..." Rushy began.

"But he got you in the BUTT, for sure," and I rolled on the floor, laughin'.

Seein' a pout beginnin' to form on my brother Rushton's face, I added, "But seriously, Rushy, it's not like you don't have protective paddin'.  Andy couldn't have hurt you.  I'm surprised you felt it at all.  MOUSES!"

'Is that some kind of fat joke?" Rushton asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Not at all, mon frere.  I am simply statin' the truth.  You have...  Well...  Well you have ample paddin', to be sure.  MOUSES!"

"Peep #1 says I'm just big boned," said Rushy, stampin' a paw.  "Plus, I do have a whole lot of floof."

I shook my head in dismay.  "Rushy, Rushy, Rushy...  You weigh in at twenty pounds.  There's no way that can all be accounted for by floof.  MOUSES!"

Rushton sat on his butt - or should I say, keister - and gave me the look a two-year-old child gives his mother immediately prior to startin' a tantrum.  "Don't complain to me," I told my long-haired marmie freak of a brother.  "Not my fault Andy can't keep his paws to himself.  Had I walked past him, he woulda smacky-pawed me in the keister, too.  MOUSES!"





Rushton looked slightly cheered up by my little pep talk, so I continued.

"Of course, I woulda felt it more, for my keister isn't as well padded as yours.  MOUSES!"

Well that did it.  No sooner had I uttered that last statement, Rushy was up and about, threatenin' to smacky-paw ME!"

"Don't you get any ideas, you long-haired marmie freak of a brother of mine.  I'm not the one who smacked you in the butt.  You wanna get back at someone for that, you need to get back at the smacky-pawer himself, and that, mon bizarre confiture frere, would be Andy.   MOUSES!"

Rushton sat back down for a moment, and mulled over what I had said.

Twenty. Minutes. Later...

Twenty minutes later, he had figured it out.  "You're absolutely right, Seville.  If I wanna get back at Andy for smackin' me, I need to deal with Andy himself."

"You got that right."

"I most certainly do!  And do you know what I'm gonna do about it?" my brother asked.

Takin' a wild guess, I said, "Uh...  Go talk to Andy, perhaps?"

"That's an even BETTER idea than what I was thinkin'," and Rushton squealed with delight.

Goodness knows what Rushy's original idea had been.  MOUSES!

I looked at my brother, just sittin' there, not makin' a move.  "Well uh...  If you're gonna go talk to Andy, you're gonna have to get up off that butt of yours, and approach him."


"Good plan there, Sivvers," and Rushy was up and crossin' the room.

Now what happened next was not unexpected.  Certainly not surprisin', in the least.

Rushton decided it would be best for him to talk to Andy, face to face, I suppose.  And as Andy had his back to Rushy, Rushy walked past him, plannin' to spin 'round in order to talk, but...

But just as Rushy walked past...

Andy smacky-pawed him right in the keister.

MOUSES!

BREAKIN' NEWS...

BREAKIN' NEWS...  It's snowin'.

Okay, so that's not breakin' news.  In fact, it's old news.  Very old news. Not even news at all.

Old news...  Bit of an oxymoron, for sure.

Yeah, it's snowin' again. I'm gettin' pretty sick and tired of the white stuff and let me tell you, I'm not the only one.  The peeps are tired of it, too, and so is the rest of my fur-fam. We're all anxious for spring but lookin' outside, spring is nowhere to be found.

And speakin' of lookin' outside, I used to be able to look out the bay window in my office and gaze down the driveway, all the way down to the street.  It was a great vantage point.  I could see everyone walkin' by.  That's how I was able to keep tabs on all the doggies in the neighbourhood. It's also how I spotted that man in the hat draggin' that big ol' pine branch down the street and then dumpin' it in my garden when he thought no one was lookin', way back when.  Remember that?

Well those days are no more, my friends.  Now when I look out my office window, all I see is white stuff.  There's a giant snowbank blockin' my view!  It's all Peep #1's fault.  She piled the snow there when shovellin' the path to the front door.  She says it's over five feet high although I haven't actually measured it with an inch-tape or anthin'.  But lookin' out at the mound of snow, I'm thinkin' I can take her at her word.

And speakin' of inch-tapes, isn't it kind of weird that we still call 'em that even though Canada is all metric and everythin'?  MOUSES!

And speakin' of mice, since the white stuff started fallin', there has not been a mouse to find except for those livin' in Mouseland and I only see them in my dreams.  Although come to think of it, my fur-fam and I had pretty much moused the place out even prior to the fallin' of the snow.

You know, sometimes the snow doesn't actually fall.  Today it is but there were a few days there when the snow was flyin' horizontally to the ground.  The entire province had a blizzard warnin' one weekend.  MOUSES!

And speakin' of blizzards, have you ever seen those ads on television for the desserts named after blizzards? You've really gotta wonder why someone would name food after weather phenomena.  Havin' white stuff peltin' your nose isn't much fun, at all.

And speakin' of noses, my marmie brothers have been at it again.  Just two of 'em, really.  Seville has taken to spendin' a lot of time upstairs and appears to be stayin' out of the fray.

But just this mornin', Rushton and Anderson were nose-to-nose.  Rushy had gone outside for a few minutes and when he wanted back in, Andy jumped right up on the windowsill, blockin' his entry.  Of course, the first peep was there in a flash and stepped in between 'em.  She scooped Anderson up and put him in the family room so that Rushton could get inside and out of the snow.  Those two marmies just don't wanna get along.  Don't know what the peeps are gonna do 'bout that.

And speakin' of Rushton, he started a new exercise program, the other week.  'Bout time, too. Marmies grow big, you see.  Especially marmies who are part Coon.

Anywho...  Rushton has taken to lyin' on his back a lot.  When someone passes him, peep or cat, he'll lift up his head to see who it is.  I'm pretty sure he's tryin' to do sit-ups although he hasn't quite mastered the sittin' part of those sit-ups yet.  More of a head-up, really.  Yeah, his neck seems to be gettin' a good workout, for sure.  MOUSES!

Peep #1 should take him for walks or somethin' but that will have to wait 'til all the white stuff disappears.  Gonna be a while, I should think.

Actually, we cats all like goin' for walks with the peep.  In the better weather months, we'll walk around the house with Peep #1 and when I say around, I quite literally mean around.  We go outside with her and follow her around and around and around the house, in circles.  I'm pretty sure anyone watchin' thinks it's weird but we just ignore that.  Walkin' around the house is just as good as walkin' around the block, to be sure.

But our little walkabouts will have to wait until spring. Currently, walkin' around the house would be an impossibility on account of all that moused-up white stuff stuff, you see.

Some cats will walk on a harness but my fur-fam and I aren't into that.  Peep #1 once tried puttin' me on a harness to go for a walk.  Basically, she ended up walkin' about with me in her arms.  Well she had a walk, at least.  I simply refused.

Peep #1 says she wishes that the marmie boys would walk on harnesses so that she could take 'em all in for their doctor's appointments, together.  She wants to walk into the clinic with 'em on leads.  She says it would be quite the sight and I have to agree. It really would be quite the sight to see Peep #1 tryin' to carry forty-five plus pounds of squirmin' marmie cats in her arms 'cause that's exactly how it would be.  None of us are into walkin' when wearin' a harness.  We'll put 'em on but after that, you're gonna have to carry us, for sure.

And speakin' of carryin', you should have seen Peep #1 carryin' in the groceries the other day.  She has gotten a bit lax 'bout the shovelling and the paths are not quite up to snuff, you see.  Truth be told, it was just the one day that she didn't do a good job shovellin' the path to the back door but that one day was all it took.  The ground is pretty uneven now and when the peeps walk on it, there's some slippin' and slidin' goin' on.  It's okay for us cats but the peeps seem to havin' some difficulties in keepin' their balance.  MOUSES!

And speakin' of balance...  Awww...  MOUSES!  I've got nothin' for that.

No wait a minute.  Maybe I do.

I'm tryin' to create a little more balance in my life.  Tryin' to not work day in and day out, leavin' no time for play.  I'm thinkin' that I should let Peep #1 have a little more computer time and I, Nerissa the Cat, will use that time to nap and enjoy the nip.  I think I can let the peep have at least one hour at the computer a day.

I allowed the peep to use the computer yesterday and she managed to write a whole page of her book.  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin', one page isn't very much.  Well truth be told, you'd be right about that.  But for her, that's actually pretty good 'cause she's not as prolific writer as I.  MOUSES!

You know, I'm lookin' out that big ol' bay window right now and seein' that the white stuff is still fallin'.  In fact, it's fallin' quite heavily, for sure.  Will it ever end?  And exactly when might that be?  The piles of snow are gettin' bigger and bigger and we're seriously runnin' out of places to put it.

When winter does eventually end - and believe you me, I'm crossin' my paws, hopin' it does - then I'll have some breakin' news, for sure.  The fact that it is snowin' might not be newsworthy but when the snow finally stops, I'll have the story of the year.  Can't wait for that to happen although, I guess I'll have to.  Have to wait, that is.  Not much I can do to speed up the process, if you know what I mean.

On the other paw, I heard that in Boston they had machines that can melt snow.  That might speed up things a bit.  Hmmm...   Can't remember the last time Peep #1 used her blow dryer.  It's just sittin' there, doin' nothin'.  I wonder if it would melt snow.  I think it just might.

Now where do the peeps keep the outdoor extension cords?  Inquirin' minds wanna know. MOUSES!