the arrival

So, so far in this so-called winter, we've had rain and we've had wind.  And yes, sometimes we've had rain and wind together.  We've even had slush.

Yeah, that's right, I swear that one day, it rained slush.

MOUSES!

And we've also had snow that changed to rain, before changin' to more slush.

And the wind!  Did I mention the wind?  Boy-oh-boy have we had wind.

And sometimes it has been cold.  Not super-duper cold, but cold enough that I wanted to be inside all day where it was nice and toasty.  And sometimes it has been mild!  We broke a mildness record in January, I do believe, on account of it bein' so mild.

MOUSES!

But two days ago...

Two days ago, on Monday...

Winter officially arrived.

MOUSES!

It snowed and it snowed and it snowed.  Then it snowed again, some more.

Did I mention it snowed?

And this time, the snow stuck around.  Here it is, Wednesday, and there's still a whole whack of snow on the ground, with no sign of it meltin' and disappearin' any time soon.

MOUSES!

Now as a Canadian kitty, you'd think I'd be used to all of this snow.  Truth be told, I kinda am.  But the fact is, snow is snow, and it makes it awfully difficult to get around.

You have any idea how hard it is for a kitty to wade through a foot of snow?  I mean, I'm only like...  well, around a foot tall.  How the mouses am I supposed to lift my legs high enough to walk through that kinda snow?

MOUSES!

But luckily for me, Peepers went out first thing Tuesday and shovelled all around.  Oh sure, snowplow guy came late Monday, but he only plows the driveway.  I, Seville the Cat, was in need of some paths just for me.  And Saffy, of course.

But, you know...  Mainly for me.

MOUSES!

Well I've got my paths, now.  A kitty can now walk from the front door to the back, and back 'round to the front, once more; without havin' to wade through all that freezin' cold snow.  I can walk out to where Peepers feeds the birdies, too.  I can even walk over to the compost, if I want.  Which I really don't.  But if I want to, I can.

MOUSES!

And...

And Peepers managed to shovel all that snow without slippin' or slidin'.  Or trippin', for that matter.  She didn't fall down.  Not even once.  Not once!

And if I'm bein' totally honest, that was kinda disappointin'.  Her not slippin' and fallin', I mean.  'Cause let me tell you somethin', my friends...

Let me tell you...

Let me tell you somethin', my friends; when a kitty gets all comfy on the windowsill, EXPECTIN' a fun-filled humorous show, A KITTY EXPECTS TO SEE HIS PEEP SLIP, TRIP, AND EVENTUALLY, FALL DOWN.

At least one time.

Instead,  Peepers put on THE MOST BORIN' SHOW of all time.

THERE'LL BE NO EMMY FOR HER.

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.

blown off-course

THUMP!

"What the mouses?" cried Seville as he looked up from his computer. "Snowball hit my office window or something?  Is someone throwing snowballs at my window?"

The marmalade cat got up from his desk, hopped onto the window ledge, and peered outside. "Awww...  MOUSES!  It's a bird.  I can see a wing protruding out of the snow."

"Peepers!  OH PEEPERS!" Seville yelled.  "Bird down, outside.  You wanna do something about that?"

The cat's cries were met with silence.

"For mousin' out loud," Seville muttered under his breath.  "PEEPERS!  PEEPERS!  There's a bird outside needing your help.  Did you hear me?  Some stupid bird hit my office window and as I'm busy working on my blog post, you're gonna have to deal with him.  Okay?"

Settling back in at his desk, Seville started to type but after a few minutes, he realized that Peep #1 had not yet gone to the aid of the injured bird.  "MOUSES!  Boy-oh-boy I have a useless peep.  I can see I'm gonna have to go outside and help that bird myself."

Seville stomped across the office floor, toward the door.  Stepping outside, he made his way over to where he had spotted the bird earlier.  "Oh my mouses!" he gasped, stopping dead in his tracks. "Uhhh...  Ummm....  Excuse me but uh...  I'll be right back."

Racing back into the house, Seville yelled up to Peep #1 from the bottom of the stairs. "PEEPERS! We've got the weirdest looking bird out front.  He's pretty big for a normal bird and not at all pretty and I think he's wearing a diaper.  Seriously Peepers, you have got to go out there and deal with that uh... thing.  And could you get on that right away 'cause to be perfectly honest, he's kinda freaking me out.  Peepers!  PEEPERS!  You up there, Peepers?  Come on, I need your help down here.  PEEPERS!!!"

Met with silence once more, Seville threw his paws up in the air with frustration and stomped back outside.  "Diaper or no diaper, I can see I'm the only one capable of dealing with this stupid bird.  I have got to get myself some better staff.  MOUSES!"

"Hey, did you just call me a bird?" the bird asked.

"He wears a diaper and talks.  MOUSES!"

"I am not a bird, sir.  The name is Cupid and would you mind helping me out of this snow?  It's really cold."

Seville grabbed Cupid by the arms and pulled him to his feet.  Narrowing his eyes he asked, "Are you sure you're not a bird?  You have wings like a bird."

"I am most definitely not a bird," Cupid scowled.  "A cat thinking I'm a bird.  Of all the...  Oh, it's absolutely FREEZING out here!" he cried, and beginning to shiver, he drew his arms close.  "How can you stand it?"

"Yeah, well welcome to Canada, buddy with wings but who's not a bird.  It's the middle of February so that kinda means there's gonna be snow and it's gonna be cold.  Maybe if you weren't flying around out here in nothing but a diaper..."

"It is NOT a diaper!" Cupid yelled.

Seville raised an eyebrow.  "Really?  'Cause uh...  'Cause it kinda looks like a diaper to me.  Hey! Watch where you're pointing that thing," and he pushed Cupid's bow and arrow away from him.  "You could hurt somebody with that."  Seville sat back on his haunches and stared at Cupid.  "Okay, so you're not a bird.  Not even a diaper-wearing bird.  But you do look pretty cold.  Why don't you come inside and warm up."

Cupid sat down at the kitchen table while Seville poured two mugs of hot nip tea.  "Get this into you and you'll feel a whole lot better," advised Seville.  "So tell me, how did you end up in my neck of the woods and crashing into my office window?"

"That last Nor'easter blew me off course.  I tried flying around it but got caught up in some tail winds and then when they turned..."

"You have a tail?  I didn't see any tail," and Seville tried to get a glimpse of the back of Cupid. Seeing nothing but wings he gave up and asked, "Cinnamon heart?" The cat pushed a candy dish across the table after grabbing a pawful of the candies himself and popping a couple in his mouth.

"But they're green," Cupid stated, staring at the heart-shaped candies.

"That's on account of the nip," explained Seville, crunching down on one.  "Nip makes 'em green."

Cupid picked up a candy and sniffed it.  "And they smell..."

"Nippy?  Of course they smell nippy.  That, too, is on account of the nip.  I get Peep #1 to make 'em for me using nip in place of the cinnamon.  Much better that way, for sure."

"But then why do you call them Cinnamon Hearts?" asked Cupid.

"Oh my mouses, Cupid.  They're called Cinnamon Hearts because today is Valentine's Day. Everyone knows you have to have Cinnamon Hearts for Valentine's Day.  Valentine's Day just wouldn't be the same without a few Cinnamon Hearts on the go.  You're not too up on this Valentine's Day business, are you?"

"Well actually," began Cupid, "Valentine's Day IS my business.  It's my busiest day of the year and I cannot believe, for the life of me, that I'm stuck here in a cold and snowy place, conversing with a marmalade cat at his kitchen table and eating catnip-flavoured, green Cinnamon Hearts that do not look or taste like real Cinnamon Hearts at all."

"And don't forget how you're doing all that while wearing a diaper," added Seville.

"It is NOT a diaper!" Cupid cried.  "Look Mr. Cat, I need to get out of here and fast.  Today is Valentine's Day and I have work to do."

"Work?  YOU GO TO WORK WEARING A DIAPER?  Just what kind of work do you do?"

Cupid opened his mouth to complain about the diaper comment again but thought better of it.  He needed Seville's help.  "Please...  I'm not sure that I'm up to flying on my own.  I hit that window pretty hard.  Maybe I could catch a last-minute flight.  Is there an airport nearby?"

"Not a commercial one, no.  Where is it that you need to go?"

"I needed to be in Paris hours ago.  Are you sure there are no International airports around here?" asked Cupid.

"Sorry kiddo but...  WAIT A MINUTE!" and Seville slapped a paw to his forehead.  "I can teleport you over to Paris in a jiffy.  You ever travelled before using eggbeater teleportation technology?"

Cupid screwed up his face.  "Eggbeater what?"

"Eggbeater teleportation technology," Seville repeated slowly, exaggerating every syllable. "Mouses, don't know why I didn't think of that before.  I can get you to Paris in mere minutes.  That would be Paris, France, I assume.  Or were you heading for Paris, Ontario?  Doesn't matter, really. All I need are the global teleportation co-ordinates and we'll be all set.  Well all set except for..."

"Except for what?" Cupid questioned.

"Well except for that stupid diaper you're wearing.  No way, no how, am I travelling all the way to either of those two Paris places with a bird or a baby or whatever you are, while you're wearing nothing but a diaper."

"But it's not a..."

"Yeah, yeah," Seville interrupted.  "You keep saying that and one day, someone might even believe you, but that someone is not gonna be me.  A diaper is a diaper is a diaper, for sure. Hmmm...  We're going to have to find you an outfit of some sort. Neighbours' dog over on the next street has an entire wardrobe of jackets and stuff and I think you and he are about the same size.  I'll pop over and ask if I can borrow one for you while you find this Paris place on a map.  Meet you back here in ten minutes for teleporation.  Okay?  Okay."

Seville was still muttering as he turned to leave for the neighbours' house.  "Gosh, some baby bird guy hits your office window and you try to help him out but all he does is argue about diapers and stuff.  Gotta get rid of him quickly so that I can get back to working on my blog and wish everyone a Happy Valentine's Day, for sure.  MOUSES!"

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

               HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY EVERYBODY!
             Love you!  Love you lots!  Love you always and forever.  Purrs, Seville.

puddle water

I enjoy a good puddle as well as the best of 'em.  I LOVE a good puddle! Nothin' beats a good puddle, if you know what I mean.  A good puddle of an excellent vintage just can't be beaten.  But this past weekend, the puddle situation was gettin' a little ridiculous.

Let me start at the beginning...

A week ago today, we had the blizzard.  Yup, the Great Blizzard of 2014, it was.

Okay, maybe it wasn't all that great.  To be honest, it really wasn't great in any kind of way. Certainly not great as in good and not even great as in size but it did dump about a foot of snow on us and knock out the power for several hours.  That, and the fact that it arrived when we were all gettin' anxious for spring, earned it the name, The Great Blizzard of 2014.  At least, it did at my house.

Anywho...  No sooner was the blizzard over but the weatherpeeps were warnin' us of another storm. "Another one!" I cried but to no avail.  The weatherpeeps totally ignored my cries and sent it anyway.

Late Friday afternoon, it began with a little smatterin' of rain, here and there.  By sometime on Saturday, the raindrops were all fully present and accounted for.  It rained Saturday night and then all day Sunday.  It rained and it rained and it rained.  "Enough already!" cried I but again, to no avail. It just kept on rainin'.

Because of the rain, there were puddles EVERYWHERE.  Now like I said before, I love a good puddle.  I do.  I really, really do but the best time to enjoy a fine puddle of water is immediately after you've been enjoyin' a sunpuddle.  You get up from your nap in the sunpuddle and walk over for a sip or two of puddle water.  But the thing is, it's pretty hard to have a nap in a sunpuddle when the sun has been driven off by all the rain and all the sunpuddles are filled with water and really, are nothin' more than puddles.

Ahhh...  the sweet taste of puddle water.  Cool and refreshing with just a hint of outdoorsy flavour.  Like a fine, vintage wine.  EXCELLENT.

One day, I'm gonna find a way to bottle up puddle water and sell it on E-Bay or somethin'.  I've been tryin' to figure out how to do it but so far, I've been stuck at the bottling stage. You see, the best part of puddle water is the fact that it comes in a puddle.  You put it in a bottle and you've got bottled water.  Not the same thing.  Not the same thing at all.  Not nearly as good.  Back to the drawing board for the puddle water factory for me, I should think.  MOUSES!

But I digress....

It was still rainin'.  Yup, it rained all day and it rained all night and then on Monday, it rained some more.  I seriously expected the peeps to start buildin' an arc or somethin', it was rainin' that much.

But the peeps were too worried to be buildin' arcs and whatnot.  The peeps were worried about tables.

Remember that ol' water table that lurks underneath my house?  I blogged all about it in my post, "tables of water," when it was threatenin' to rear its ugly head a little while ago.

So the hole in the basement was lookin' a little damp early on in the weekend but by Sunday night, it was containin' some water.  The water table was makin' an appearance.  By Monday, it was gainin' strength.  Higher and higher it crept until by Monday night, it was only three inches from the basement floor.

I gave it a full inspection as only a cat like myself can do.  I waved a paw over the hole in the floor and allowed the aroma of the water to waft toward my nose.  "MOUSES!" I cried. "This water has no aroma at all.  It's nothin' but water.  No puddle aspect to it, whatsoever.  What good is that?" I asked the peep but she ignored me.  Rude, I know, but I'm givin' her the benefit of the doubt 'cause I think she was worried we might be in for an indoor swimmin' pool... AGAIN.

But by late Monday night, somethin' miraculous happened. The rain, durin' the day, had been goin' back and forth between rain and freezin' rain and ice pellets and whatnot but by Monday night, it was lookin' like snow.  SNOW!

Yesterday mornin' I awoke and the ground was covered in white stuff as far as the eye could see. Not a lot of it.  Not enough for any sort of shovellin' to be required but it was...  EVERYWHERE.

Personally, I was not overly impressed with the arrival of the white stuff.  I figured it was some sort of cruel April Fool's Day joke on the part of Mother Nature.  Don't mess with Mother Nature, they say. DON'T MESS WITH NERISSA THE CAT, is what they should say.  The white stuff was interferin' with the spring programming of my Bird TV, not to mention the complete and utter lack of sunpuddles for nappin'.

But believe it or not, the peeps were happy about the white stuff.  The fact that the weather had turned colder and the rain was now snow meant that the table of water was no longer bein' fed from above and would be able to sink back into the underbelly of the Earth and leave my house alone.  Of course, it also meant that there would be no indoor swimmin' pool for this year but really, I think that's sort of a good thing.

I am now currently awaitin' the return of the sun and some sunpuddles.  Perhaps if I have a nice little nap in a sunpuddle or two, inspiration will strike and I'll be able to figure out how to bottle up those puddles 'cause I just know that when all that snow melts, there will be puddles galore.

After I figure out the bottlin' aspect, I'll be lookin' for investors. Any takers?  My bottled puddle water is gonna be the best thing since sliced bread, for sure.  Maybe even better 'cause you know...  cats don't eat bread and I, Nerissa the Cat, am a cat and that, my friends, is a fact.