not again

Not again, I say.  I SAY, NOT AGAIN!

Oh for the love of mouses...

MOUSES!

Hey Peepers!  PEEPERS!  Saffy is at the back door, again.  I SAY, SAFFY IS AT THE BACK DOOR!

I say...

Yeah, that's what I said.  Saffy Saffron Sassifras is sittin' at the back door.  Wanted back in, I suppose.

MOUSES!

I know, I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You thinkin' that Saffy has every right to come inside.  After all, this is his house, too.

And I suppose you could be right.

The thing is, though...

The thing is...

The thing is, Saffy just went outside.

'Bout five minutes ago.

Give or take a few seconds.

MOUSES!

Did you not hear me, Peepers?  Did you hear me, ol' peep of mine?  Saffy is sittin' out there at the back door, wanted inside.

MOUSES!

Now, what you - my dear and wonderful pals - might not know is that when Saffy comes inside, he's gonna be expectin' a helpin' of treats.

MOUSES!

I know, I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin', Saffy Saffron Sassifras has every right to expect a helpin' of treats.

But the thing is...

The thing is...

The thing is, Saffy had a helpin' of treats about fifteen minutes ago.

WHICH WAS THE LAST TIME HE CAME BACK INSIDE.

And fifteen minutes before that?  Yeah, he came in then, too, and had a helpin' of treats that time, as well.

And fifteen minutes before that?

Well, you get the picture, I am sure.

MOUSES!

Oh good.  Peepers has let my brother back in.

And here come, of course, the helpings of treats.

Excuse me a mo, my dear and wonderful pals, for I'm gonna make sure I get a helpin' as well.

*munch, munch, crunch, crunch*

*BURP!*

*ahhh...*

Hey Peepers!  PEEPERS!  Peepers, Saffy is now at the FRONT door, wantin' to go outside.

And in about ten minutes, he'll prolly be back at the back, wantin' back in.

For another helpin' of treats.

Like the twenty other times already, today.

MOUSES!

we'll gather at dawn

You're gonna have to do somethin' about that, Peepers.

I SAID, you're gonna have to do somethin' about that!

PEEPERS!  Like I said, you're gonna have to do SOMETHIN' about that.

That.

THAT!

Okay, THOSE.  You're gonna have to do somethin' about those.

MOUSES!

Peepers, are you even listenin' to me?

Gosh darn it, all this time I've been talkin' to her, she was firmly sound asleep.

Should have known by the snorin'.

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, she might not have been asleep.

SHE MIGHT HAVE BEEN IGNORIN' ME.

So rude.

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, here's the thing: Peepers has a stash.  That's right, she has her very own stash.

Or is it a horde...

Huh, probably both.

MOUSES!

But it's like this: Peepers has a stash-slash-horde or horde-slash-stash of yarn.  All sorts of different yarns in all sorts of different colours.  It's embarrassing, really.  Embarrassing for her.

Not to mention me.

IMAGINE havin' more balls of yarn than a peep could ever even dream of knittin' up.

IMAGINE!

I mean, it's not like it's a stash of the nip..

A cat CAN ONLY DREAM of havin' so much nip in his stash that he couldn't possibly use it all up before next harvest season.

MOUSES!

But back to this hordelike stash of yarn the peep has.

It's big.  It's stupidly big.  It's BIGLY big, to be sure.  And it's takin' up space that could be put to much better use by bein' used as space for storin' catnip.  It is TOTALLY RIDICULOUS, for sure.

Which is why...

Which is why...

Which is why I have offered to help her out by takin' some of her stashlike horde, unravellin' it all, and thereby puttin' it to better use than just sittin' around, doin' nothin' but nothin', occupyin' space.

And once it's unravelled...

Once it's unravelled...

Well, once a ball of yarn is unravelled, it's time for kitties to do some major slobberin', before knottin' it up.  And THEN, once unravelled, slobbered upon, and knotted in knots, the best thing to do with said yarn is throw it right out!

MAKIN' SPACE FOR MY ANNUAL HARVEST OF NIP.

*purrs*

But Peepers, bein' a peep, is somewhat resistant to this idea.

MOUSES!

But fear not, my dear friends.  Fear not, not at all!  The plan is for Saffy and I to gather at dawn, dive into that stash, and have....

Well, have a ball!

Pun intended.

We'll gather at dawn and have a ball unravellin' those balls of stupid ol' yarn.

Best. Plan, EVER, for sure.

And when we're all done...

When we're all done...

Well, when we're all done, the empty totes that once held the stupid ol' yarn will be MINE.

Every. Single. One.

MOUSES!

crazy cat lady

Heeheeheeheehee...  What a dupe.

What a stupidy-dupidy POOP!

On the other paw...

On the other paw, maybe just poop.

Stupid, stinky, smelly ol' poop.

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, some stupidy-dupidy poop, on-line, called Peepers a crazy cat lady, the other day.

And he said it like...

Like...

Get this.

HAHAHAHAAAAA....

He said it like it was an insult, or somethin'.

MOUSES!

Little does he know...

Little does he know, Peepers took it as a complement.

Just as she should.

MOUSES!

So, why was some stupidy-dupidy, stinky ol' poop callin' MY Peepers a crazy cat lady, you ask?

Well...

Well, to tell you the truth, no one really knows.

I mean, she is a lady, of sorts.

No real title, of course.

But she does know her manners and uses 'em well.

Usually.

MOUSES!

And I think we can all agree, she isn't a cat.

If only she were so lucky.

MOUSES!

And as far as bein' crazy...

Well, as far as bein' crazy, she really isn't, you know.

I don't think.

MOUSES!

To tell you the truth, I just think this guy got mad 'cause he realised he was wrong 'bout somethin', and instead of admittin' it, he decided to double down and hurl a bunch of insults.

But as this guy doesn't know an insult from a complement, Peepers has a message for him:  THANK YOU!  THANK YOU VERY MUCH.  THANK YOU FOR THE COMPLEMENT, KIND...

Hmmm...

Sir?

Nah, that doesn't sound quite right.

Thank you for the complement, kind stupidy-dupidy, smelly ol' poop.

That sounds better, for sure.

MOUSES!

what happens in Vegas...

What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

Right?

Right.

MOUSES!

Okay, so this didn't happen in Vegas.  Happened right here at my house.  My house here in Nova Scotia, Canada, that is.

MOUSES!

But the same principle applies.

Right?

Right.

MOUSES!

But on the other paw...

On the other paw, that would be wrong.

MOUSES!

'Cause the fact is, if peeps do stupid stuff...

And if I, Seville the Cat, should happen to see them doin' stupid stuff...

I'M GONNA TELL EVERYONE I KNOW.

'Cause that's the kinda cat I am.

MOUSES!

'Cause nobody - AND I DO MEAN NOBODY - is gonna put a muzzle on me.

What do you think I am?  A dog of some sort?

MOUSES!

So here's what happened the other day:  Peepers, bein' a peep, was walkin' around the yard with a cup of tea in her paw.

I mean, hand.

But there she was, walkin' about the garden, lookin' this way and that, when...

When she walked right smack dab into the hangin' glass bird bath.

MOUSES!

Water, water...  There was water, everywhere!

Well, maybe not everywhere.  Her shirt seemed to catch most of it, in fact.  She was drenched right down her front.

I didn't even know a bird bath could hold that much water.

MOUSES!

And, I am told, the whole moused-up incident left her with a headache of sorts.

She SAYS it's 'cause the bird bath hit her in the forehead.

I SAY, the bird bath didn't hit her, but rather, she hit it.

I also say that that tea must have been laced with somethin' stronger than tea leaves.

SHE SAYS it was not.

And truth be told, she is a bit of a klutz.  So perhaps it was all down to klutziness and whatnot.  Human, peepish kutziness and stuff.

But you'll never catch a cat doin' somethin' stupid like that.

MOUSES!

unanswered questions

It's been a long time since I've done a post like this.  A long, long, L - O - N - G time, for sure.

So I figured it was probably time to do one again.  You know, keep my paw in.  That sorta thing.

MOUSES!

What kinda post do I mean?

Well...

Well, the kinda post where I answer all of life's unanswered questions.  You know the kind.  The kind like uh...

Um...

Well...

Well, like who let the dogs out, for one.

MOUSES!

Who DID let the dogs out, you ask?

Their PEEPS! of course.

What, did you think dogs were standin' up on their hind legs, openin' doors, and lettin' themselves outside, now?

Pshaw, of all the silly things.

MOUSES!

'Course, it could also have been aliens.

MOUSES!

And speakin' of aliens...

And speakin' of aliens, we all know it was aliens that built all those pyramids, right?

Right.

MOUSES!

And speakin' of pyramids, I sure am glad Peepers stopped buyin' those funny lookin' pyramid-shaped teabags.  They kinda freak me out, on account of their lookin' so weird.

Imagine usin' pyramids for tea.

MOUSES!

And speakin' of tea...

And speakin' of tea, why-oh-why would peeps wanna use MY catnip to make THEMSELVES tea?

That's right: some peep out there has been stealin' my nip.

At least, that's what I'm thinkin' happened to part of my nip bed.  I'm thinkin' someone went and stole a few stems of catnip.  I've been countin' my nip crop daily, you see -  'cause that's what I do - and I'm absolutely positively certain SOMEONE stole three stems of my nip.  I've got three stems missin', for sure.

MOUSES!

So who stole my catnip, you ask?  Who?

That's gotta be THE MOST IMPORTANT unanswered question of all time.  The most important unanswered question in the whole wide world, to be sure.

MOUSES!

Truth is, I'm thinkin' it was Peepers.  I'm THINKIN' she thought she'd try a few leaves in her tea.  I'M THINKIN'...

Well, I'm thinkin' it had to be Peepers, for sure.  'Cause who else would have come into my garden and done such an awful thing?

Yup, had to be Peepers.  Absolutely HAD to be her.  Either her or some neighbourhood kitty who found him or herself in dire need of the nip.

Either that, or...

Well...

Well, it could have been aliens, I guess.  Nipped up aliens, sippin' on nip tea made from MY catnip - on account of their havin' run out of their own stuff in the little pyramidal teabags - while restin' after a hard day's work buildin' stone pyramids, and takin' a break before havin' to let all the dogs out for their nightly walks.

MOUSES!

Hmmm...

Can aliens even get nipped, do you suppose?

Huh.

Just another one of life's unanswered questions, I guess.  Another question for another post.

MOUSES!

about time

Well it's about time, Peepers.  It's about time.  You've been promising to make me...

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

YES I KNOW you started makin' me my blankie ages ago.  But then you set it aside.  You stopped knittin'.  And then...

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

YES I KNOW that for a while it was really too hot for for me to need a blankie, at all.  But there were nights that were cooler, too, you know.  I could have used a blankie on those nights, for sure.  PLUS, I can always sleep ON the blankie, even in warm weather, and...

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

YES I KNOW the first stitch you experimented with turned out to be a pain in the tail to knit, but...

WHAT?

Peepers, are you sayin' your first attempt to knit me a blankie was an experiment?

Peepers, ARE YOU SAYIN' you were EXPERIMENTIN'?

Experimentin' on ME?

Of all the moused up, stupid things for a peep to do.

MOUSES!

Peepers, if you wanna be experimentin' with knittin', you should stick to experimentin' on things you happen to be knittin' for yourself.

Or Saffy.

He'll never know.

But not for me.

MOUSES!

YOU HAVE A HECK OF A LOT OF NERVE thinkin' you can possibly get away with experimentin' on knittin' somethin' that you're supposed to be knittin' for me.

MOUSES!

Thank goodness you scrapped that experiment and decided to use a stitch you're more familiar with.  One you know will turn out all cushiony soft.  Thank goodness you decided to use that ol' Bamboo stitch just like the blankie you made for yourself.  Thank goodness you...

Wait a minute.

Peepers, now that I'm lookin' at your knittin' progress a little more closely, I must ask: what's with all the different colours?  How come you're usin' four different colours of yarn to knit up the blankie for me?  

And she's not yet finished.  There might end up bein' more!

What was that, Peepers?  I DIDN'T HEAR YOU.  You didn't answer my question.  Why are you usin' so many different colours when knittin' MY blankie.  YOUR blankie had just the one.

Colour, I mean.

And why the mouses are those the colours you chose?  I mean, the paprika and dusty peach are okay, BUT THE ROSE?  Are you unaware I am a cat who is orange?  Orange with rose?

Really?

MOUSES!

WHAT?

YOU'RE SAYIN' YOU'RE MAKIN' MY BLANKIE USIN' UP OLD SCRAPS?  Scraps of yarn you no longer need?  Scraps of yarn not even worth keepin' in your stash?

You're usin' LEFTOVERS to make a blankie for me?

MOUSES!

Of all the nerve.

I've never been so insulted in all my nine lives.

MOUSES!

Happy Birthday!

Happy Birthday to me.  Happy Birthday to me.  Happy Birthday dear me........

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

What do you MEAN it's not my birthday?  What do you MEAN?

Oh yeah.  Never mind.  You happen to right, there, Peepers.  For once.  Today is not, in fact, my birthday.  My birthday happens to be this Tuesday.

MOUSES!

Happy Early Birthday, to me.  Happy Early Birthday, to me.  Happy Early Birthday dear me...

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

What do you MEAN Tuesday is not my birthday?  What do you MEAN?

And more to the point, how would you even know?

MOUSES!

'CAUSE YOU DIDN'T KNOW ME when I was born, that's why.  You didn't know me when I was an eensy teensy weensy little kitty.  You didn't meet me 'til I was well and truly grown.  So even though you know the date of my Gotcha Day, when it comes to birthdays, you know nothin' but your own.

And maybe a few other peeps.

MOUSES!

BUT MY POINT IS, you have no idea when my actual birthday is, and for all you know, it could easily be this Tuesday.

Tuesday, July the 1st.

MOUSES!

And what's more...

Hmmm...

Nope, I got nothin' to add to that.

Wait a minute!  It just so happens, I do.

Fact is, Peepers, this Tuesday - Tuesday, July the 1st - is gonna be an absolutely huge birthday celebratory blast.  Yup, there are picnics and Q's - that's short for BBQs, in case ya didn't know - and parades, and all sorts of things planned.  Prince Edward is even in town!  Okay, so maybe not in my particular town, for reasons I simply cannot fathom but I'm thinkin' it has somethin' to do with a faulty GPS or somethin' like that, but um...  But anyway, my point is, Prince Edward is here in Canada for MY birthday blast.  Now, I can pass on the fireworks they're plannin', as I'm not too keen on those, but hey, if peeps wanna have fireworks to celebrate my birthday, who am I to scold 'em for interruptin' my late evenin' nap, and...

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

What do you MEAN Prince Edward, Duke of Edinburgh, is in Canada to celebrate CANADA'S birthday and not mine?

WHAT THE MOUSIE MOUSIN' MOUSES CAN YOU POSSIBLY MEAN?

Oh.

That.

Hmmm...

But I thought...

Oh, for mousin' out loud.  And there I was, thinkin' forty million or so Canadians were plannin' a big ol' birthday bash for little ol' me, Seville the Cat.

But then again....

But then again, maybe everyone is plannin' on celebratin' both!

EVER THINK ABOUT THAT?

And it's not like I'm incapable of sharin'.

Just as long as nobody is wantin' a share of my nip.

'Cept, of course, for Prince Edward.  Prince Edward, Duke of Edinburgh, that is.  'CAUSE EVERYONE KNOWS, sharin' a nip mouse with a member of the Royal Family is a true honour, for sure

Note to self: don't slobber on any nip mice I plan on sharin' with Royals as that would be frowned upon, I believe.

Maybe.

Well...  Probably.

Yeah, I'm bettin' it would.

MOUSES!

are you in there?

Hey Peepers, are you in there?

Hey Peepers!

PEEPERS!

PEEPERS!  ARE YOU IN THERE?

Oh good, I was just checkin' you were there.

MOUSES!

But uh...  But how come you didn't answer me the first time?

I DON'T CARE that you were in the bathroom, takin' a shower.  You still could have answered.

Which would have saved me from havin' to yell.

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, now that I know you're in there, you can go back to doin' whatever, although you might wanna first take the time to mop up the water you dripped all over the floor.

What?

DON'T BLAME ME 'cause you got out of the shower to answer my calls and ended up drippin' water all over the floor.  I didn't tell you to get all soppin' wet in the first place.  AND I CERTAINLY didn't tell you to stand at the door drippin' water all over....

What?

Well...

Well, had you told me you were gonna take a shower BEFORE you took said shower, I would have known where you were.  I would have known you were in the shower and I wouldn't have had to sing the song of my people over and over AND OVER again outside the bathroom door, tryin' to figure out if you were in there or not and...

What?

SO WHAT if I heard the water runnin'.  You suggestin' the water isn't ever runnin' when no one is takin' a shower?

Well, yeah.  Yeah, maybe not at our house.  But I'm sure that if you look long and hard enough, you'll find some plumber, somewhere, who had to make an emergency visit to somebody's house 'cause water was runnin' when it wasn't supposed to be runnin' and ended up runnin' all over the place, when no one was takin' a shower.

MOUSES!

But like I said, Peepers, now that I know you're actually in there...  Now that I know where you are....  Now that I know, you can go back in there and finish up with your shower.  

I just needed to know.

'CAUSE I'M A CAT, THAT'S WHY.  We cats like to be kept informed.

MOUSES!

Boy-oh-boy, explain' stuff to peeps can be so difficult, at times.

For mousin' out loud, all I wanted to know was where she was.

It's not like I was askin' for state secrets, or anythin' like that.

I get those on Signal chat.

MOUSES!

Hmmm...  You know, it's been at least two minutes since I heard from her last.  I should probably do something 'bout that.

Hey Peepers, are you still in there?

Hey Peepers!

PEEPERS!

PEEPERS!  ARE YOU STILL IN THERE?

Yup, she must be.  Just heard the water bein' turned off and I'm pretty sure it doesn't do that all on its own.

And now the door handle is turnin'.

And now...

DON'T LOOK at me like that, Peepers.  I was just wonderin' if you were still in the shower.

You know, you really should have told me just how long you would be.  That would have saved me from havin' to check on you again, and all that.

MOUSES!

AND DON'T FORGET TO MOP UP ALL THAT WATER YOU'VE DRIPPED ALL OVER THE FLOOR.

AGAIN.

Good gosh, a kitty could get his paws wet walkin' into the bathroom after you've been in there, havin' your stupid shower.

MOUSES!

chewin' your cud?

Whatcha chewin' on there, Saffy, my man?  Are you chewin' your cud?

Bwahahahahahahahahaha...

MOUSES!

Yes, Saffy, it is. It is too funny, for sure.  It's funny 'cause...

Well...

Oh, never mind.

Take too long to explain.

MOUSES!

But as I was sayin' - or askin', rather - whatcha chewin' on?  I didn't see Peepers dishin' out any extra treats.

MOUSES!

You WHAT?

MOUSES!

Saffy, Saffy, Saffron...   Skeeters are not for eatin'.

Okay, so maybe they are.  Maybe they ARE annoyin' little things that can into the house, flittin' this way and that, tryin' to bite our kitty noses; and maybe eatin' one might very well give a kitty a little satisfaction.

But they're way, way, way too small to chew.

'Cause when I say little, I mean LITTLE, 'cause skeeters are so teeny tiny, they're...

Well...

Oh, never mind.

Take too long to explain.

MOUSES!

And who let that skeeter in the house in the first place?  Peepers?  Prolly.  Prolly was Peepers, 'cause she's always leavin' doors open here and there, and when you leave a door open in skeeter season, a skeeter is likely to get in.

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

Yeah, yeah...  So MAYBE you did have the door open lettin' one of us kitties in or out - or in AND out - 'cause we kitties do kinda like to sit there on the doorstep for a while, decidin' if we want to go out.  Or stay in.  Or come back in.  Or go back out.

You get the picture, I am sure.

BUT MY POINT IS...  My point is, it was YOU who opened the door.  So ergo ispso defacto, it was YOU who let that darned mosquito inside.

MOUSES!

AND BECAUSE YOU LET THAT SKEETER INSIDE, Saffron was bein' bothered by it and had to take matters into his own paws and deal with that skeeter, himself!

He ate it, you know.  Yup, that's right, Peepers: Saffron ate the skeeter.

As little as it was.

By gosh and by golly, you'd think you were starvin' us kitties!  IMAGINE us kitties havin' to resort to eatin' mosquitoes.

They're not even big enough to chew.

MOUSES!

And what's more...

Saffy, look!  Look at that, Saffy, my man.  Peepers is so annoyed 'bout havin' to listen to my Saffy-ate-a-skeeter-'cause-you're-starvin'-us rant, she's doling out the most temptin' of the really temptin' treats!!!

And just LOOK at the number she's doling.

By gosh and by golly, had I known a rant like this would get us more treats...

I'D HAVE BEEN RANTIN' ON ABOUT SKEETER EATIN' ALL ALONG.

Saffy, make sure you find and eat another skeeter later today, okay?  I'm thinkin' I might like some more treats 'round about four-thirty.  So start the skeeter hunt around four.  That should give me enough time to prepare a good rant.

MOUSES!

four minute mile

Yup, you heard that right.  You heard that definitely right, for sure.  Saffy and Peepers have beaten their own record.  Those two have gone and run a four minute mile!

MOUSES!

Hmmm...

Did I say minute?  

That's not correct.

Nope, what I SHOULD have said is that Saffy and Peepers have bested their record and run a four HOUR mile.

MOUSES!

Hmmm...

Did I say run?

That's not correct.

Nope, what I SHOULD have said is that Saffy and Peepers have bested their record and uh...

Ummm...

Hmmm...

Well...

Well truth be told, I don't know what you'd call what they were doin', but I do know one thing for sure: Whatever it was, it was nothin' like runnin', at all.

MOUSES!

 It was more like uh...

Ummm...

Hmmm...

Well...

Well like I said, it was more like somethin' totally unlike runnin'.  Totally unlike anythin' even resemblin' anythin' that knows how to run.  It was more like a...

Ummm...

Hmmm...

Like a crawl.

'Cept without any knees bein' involved.

MOUSES!

Oh, I know!

Okay, so you know when figure skaters do those figure eights, over and over again?

It was kinda like that.

'Cept no one was wearin' skates.

But Saffy was, in fact, doin' figure eights 'round and 'round and 'round Peepers' feet with Every. Single. Step. she did take.

Which is why...

Which is why it took like four hours for Peepers to get from the backyard into the kitchen which is actually nothin' like a mile, but I think everyone was feelin' like it was, on account of it takin' so long to get from there to here, and...

Good gosh, I was exhausted just watching 'em run.

I mean, crawl.

I mean...

Whatever it was.

MOUSES!

duh

Duh.  Of COURSE I do, Peepers.  Of course!

Kinda goes without sayin', you know.

MOUSES!

Umm...  That's not a few.

NO.  No, it isn't.  Two is not a few.  Two is a couple.  Everyone knows a few is more than a couple.  A few is more than two.

Don't you know anythin' about treats?

MOUSES!

Okay, so TECHNICALLY, I suppose, three might be a few.  Three is more than two.

Barely.

But techno mumbo jumbo aside, three will simply not do.

MOUSES!

Yeah, yeah...  Yeah, that's right, Peepers.  When Saffy and I ask for a few treats, we're thinkin' more along the lines of seven, eight, nine...  Maybe two dozen.  

You know, that sorta thing.

So three doesn't cut it, you see.

MOUSES!

I DON'T CARE what the package says is a serving size.  Packages can be wrong.

PLUS, I've seen YOU eatin' cookies.  

Okay, so I've never actually seen you eat two dozen mint-chocolate cookies, Peepers.  You do have me there.

BUT...

BUT IF I DID see you sit down and eat two dozen mint-chocolate cookies, I wouldn't give you a hard time about it.  Nope, I wouldn't do that, at all.  I, Seville the Cat, would NEVER give you a hard time 'bout eatin' two dozen mint-chocolate cookies all in one go.

'Cause that would be stupid.  Givin' you a hard time 'bout eatin' so many mint-chocolate cookies, I mean.  Nope, I'd be far better off takin' notes, gatherin' proof, and usin' said proof to my advantage when the need arises, and...

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

OF COURSE I WOULD USE proof of your mint-chocolate cookie-eatin' habits to my advantage.  What kinda cat do you think I am?

Don't answer that.

I'll give you an answer to use.

Smart, Peepers.  Smart is the word for which you're lookin'.  A smart kitty like me gathers proof and sets it aside to use at a later date, and...

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

It. Is. NOT. Blackmail.  It's uh...

Well um...

Hmm...

Okay, so blackmail it is.

MOUSES!

And now that we're on the same page...

Kinda.

So now that we're on the same page, Peepers, let's just assume I have hard evidence of your mint-chocolate cookie-eatin' habits.  

NOW PAW OVER MY TREATS.

And don't you dare stop at a few.

MOUSES!

you're welcome

I said, you're welcome.

You're welcome!

Yup, that's exactly what I said. 

MOUSES!

For what are you welcome, you ask?

Well...

Well, due to my scathing blog post, the other day, 'bout Mother Nature not workin' hard enough in the spring weather department, Ol' Mama N has finally decided to shape up before we cats all got together and shipped her right out; which is why...

Which is why...

Which is why, you have me, Seville the Cat, to thank for the lovely warm sunny days you are currently experiencing.

MOUSES!

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

IT IS TOO because of me that we're finally havin' good weather.  It's as obvious as obvious can be.  The evidence is there for everyone to see.  It was cold and rainy and raw, as you remember.  Then I wrote my blog post.  My SCATHING blog post, I might add.  And now it's all sunny and warm.  See?

IT WAS OBVSIOUSLY BECAUSE OF ME.

MOUSES!

It just goes to show you what a bloggin' kitty can do.  

MOUSES!

And now that I've fixed the ol' weather...

Well, now that I've fixed the ol' weather, I've got some extra time on my paws.

What to do..  What to do...

Hmmm...

Hey Peepers!  YOU HAVE ANY OTHER PROBLEMS YOU NEED ME TO SOLVE?

Actually, never mind.  Don't bother answerin'.  You'll probably want me to fix somethin' stupid like sweepin' up the litter 'round the litter box.  A job which is obviously yours.

Of course...

Of course, I could solve that problem by remindin' you to get in there and start sweepin'.

Hmmm...

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

You think I could solve the ol' litter 'round the litter box problem by not scatterin' said litter about in the first place?

BUT WHAT WOULD BE THE FUN IN THAT?

Plus, you'd be out of a job, and that, my dear peep, will simply not do.

MOUSES!

But since I'm now thinkin' about it...

HEY PEEPERS!  GET YOUR SORRY REAR UP OFF THAT CHAIR AND GO SWEEP UP THE LITTER SCATTERED ALL OVER THE FLOOR!

Please.

I'm sayin' please on account of my bein' polite, of course.

'CAUSE IF I, SEVILLE THE CAT, AM ANYTHIN', I AM ALWAYS VERY POLITE.

'Cause I'm a Canadian kitty, you see, and we Canadians are known for bein' polite.  

Politeness, which is exceeded only by our good looks.  And perhaps our humble modesty, too.

PEEPERS, I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO GET UP OFF YOUR SORRY OL' REAR!

The effort I have to make to get peeps to do some work around here.

MOUSES!

not even tryin'

I swear, it's like she's not even tryin'.

MOUSES!

I know, I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin' that Peepers has gone and messed somethin' all up, due to a lack of her tryin'.

Again.

MOUSES!

Well, to tell you the truth...

To tell you the truth, she has messed everythin' up.

And there is a distinct possibility it's 'cause she wasn't really tryin'.

But truth be told, I'm not talking 'bout her.

This time.

MOUSES!

Nope, THIS TIME, I'm talking 'bout ol' Mother Nature.  Ol' Mother Nature is not even tryin'.

MOUSES!

I shall explain.

So it's May, right?

Hold on.  Let me go check.

Yup, I just looked on the calendar and it is, in fact, May.

It's hard to tell sometimes, on account of the weather.

MOUSES!

Okay, okay...  Okay, so yesterday was nice.  Yesterday was spring-like and everythin'.

As was the day before.

But the day before that?  The day before that was chilly enough that Peepers had to put on a sweater.

MOUSES!

And for a while, there, it felt like we had nothin' but rain.

Which might have been fine durin' April, what with April showers and all that, but it was SUPPOSED to be May.

Which is SUPPOSED to have flowers.

MOUSES!

Okay, so the daffodils are bloomin'.

But those daffies are daffy, and they'll show off when it's cold.

Without even botherin' to put on a sweater.

MOUSES!

But my point 'bout this is...

My point 'bout this is, Mother Nature is slackin', regardin' spring weather.

I SWEAR, IT'S LIKE SHE'S NOT EVEN TRYIN'.

MOUSES!

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

Tomorrow is supposed to be 17C and sunny, you say?

Hmmm...

Well sure, yeah, NOW Mother Nature is makin' an effort.  NOW she's bringin' us spring.

BUT THAT'S JUST 'CAUSE I, SEVILLE THE CAT, CALLED OUT HER SLACKINESS AND PUT HER ON NOTICE.

So in a way, if the weather gets spring-like, it is ME you should thank.

Feel free to send treats.

MOUSES!

you probably remember

You probably remember...

If you're good at rememberin' things...

How I told you 'bout the annexation of part of the peep's garden, for the expansion of my catnip plantation, earlier this year.

MOUSES!

Well, the thing is...

I know, I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin' Peepers has gone and done the unthinkable and dug up my nip plants, for sure.

But thankfully, if that's what you're thinkin'...

You would be wrong.

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, Saffy and I were out in the garden yesterday, with Peep #1.  Peepers was busyin' herself, plantin' stupid flowers and whatnot, whilst I supervised.  Then all of a sudden...

All of a sudden...

All of a sudden, Saffy wandered off and started goin' all kinda weird and definitely wild.

I'm tellin' you, my pals, that cat was goin' bonkers, for sure.

MOUSES!

Of course, when I realised he was over by my nip plantation expansion annexation, I started goin' a bit bonkers, myself.  Had Peepers killed my nip babies with kindness?  Had I killed 'em with neglect?

'Cause truth be told, I had sorta forgotten 'bout that new bed of catnip plants I was growin' out there.  

Had somethin' or other - or someone - come along and dug 'em all up?

Had...

Had...

HAD THE WEASEL SYNDICATE STARTED AN ILLEGAL HARVESTATION AND DESCIMATED THE BED?

My mind was runnin' in circles.  Runnin' in circles like a cat chasin' his tail.

MOUSES!

I know...   I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin', "I wish Seville would get to the point and stop keepin' us in all this horrible suspense."

Well, I'm gettin' there.

Keep your tails on, my friends.

MOUSES!

So off I went to check out the nip plants, my heart full of fear, panic, and dread.

AND THAT'S WHEN I DISCOVERED the real reason Saffy was behavin' like a cat...

Well...

Well, like a cat nipped as nipped as a cat can possibly get.

MOUSES!

That's right, my dear friends.  That's right!  Saffy wasn't behavin' wildly 'cause he was upset or anythin' like that.  He was gettin' all wild 'cause all that nip had really gone to his head!

My newly annexed expansion to my nip plantation is an absolute TOTAL success.  The ENTIRE BED is filled to the brim with nip plants, spreadin' like butter on hot bread.  The soil is almost invisible, my friends.  INVISIBLE, to be sure!  This year's crop is gonna be the best harvest this cat has seen in all his nine lives, yet.

And there'll be none of those pesky chamomile or borage or calendula plants the peep grew in there last year, my friends.  Nothin' but nip plants in my new sixteen square foot bed.  It's gonna be the bestest in the westest - actually, north-easted -  most glorious garden any peep or cat could possibly get.

MOUSES!

And don't tell anyone, but I'm thinkin' of expandin' my plantation once more.  I see the peep has a raised bed next to mine, filled with stupid poppies and stuff, and I'm thinkin'...

I'm thinkin'...

I'm thinkin', a few nip seeds strategically planted in that bed, this fall, and I can annex that one, as well.

I'M EXPANDIN' MY EMPIRE, for sure.

As ONLY A CAT, with previously negotiated cat-peep property rights, can legally and ethically do.

MOUSES!

good work, Saffy

Good work, Saffy.  Good work.

Now THAT'S how you do it, for sure.

MOUSES!

Saffy really has got the hang of this stuff.

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, it was rainin' today.  Not pourin', mind you, but rainin' enough so that if a kitty were to go outside for a bit, a kitty might get some rain on his furs.

And, of course, Saffron went out.

*sighs*

MOUSES!

But a little while later...

A little while later, Saffron came back in.

And he was all covered in rain.

MOUSES!

I know, I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin' it was really silly of Saffron to go out in the rain.

And truthfully, I was kinda thinkin' the same.

MOUSES!

But you remember how I said it wasn't actually pouring out there?

Well...

Well, that is totally true.  It was rainin' but not pourin', so...

So although Saffy was covered in rain, the water was sorta kinda in-a-weird-but-wonderful-way just lyin' there on the surface of his furs.

Cat probably didn't even realise he was wet.

MOUSES!

But once he was inside, Peepers - bein' a peep - went and told him how wet his fur was, and...

And then, of course...

He knew.

MOUSES!

Now in a situation like this, I, myself, enjoy a good rub down with a pillowy soft towel, but Saffy?

Nope, Saffy took a more immediate route.

He wasn't waitin' for no towel.

MOUSES!

Saffy, Saffron, Sassisfras - INSTEAD OF USIN' A TOWEL - decided to rub himself dry on the legs of Peepers' dry pants.

As well as the sleeves of her top.

And who knows, whilst I wasn't lookin', maybe even her shoes.

MOUSES!

And once Saffy had managed to dry himself off...

Peepers had to go change all of her clothes.

'Cause then PEEPERS was the one who was totally wet.

MOUSES!

Oh my mouses, my friends, what fun ol' Saffy did have.  And I had some fun, too.  It's fun listenin' to peeps mumble and grumble...

'BOUT SOMEBODY ELSE, and not you.

MOUSES!

Bottom line is: Saffy got dry, I had some fun, and...

And Peepers had extra laundry to do.

MOUSES!

group chat

Shush, Peepers. *waves the peep off with a paw*  Shush.

I said, SHUSH!

Oops!  That was a little loud.

Shush.

Gosh darn it, I missed what Rover said.  Bet it was good, too.  Rover says the funniest stuff.

Oh yeah, Peppers, he really does.  Rover says some super funny stuff.  Last week, he called Mitzie a...  Well, you know.  He used the B word and everythin'.

Don't look so shocked, Peepers.  It's not as bad as it sounds.  I mean, Mitzie is a female dog so the B word actually kinda applies.  But it was still funny to hear Rover say it, you know?  'Cause that's a word no one at our house would ever dare use.

MOUSES!

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

What am I doin'?  To whom am I talkin'?  Is this some kinda Internet group I have joined?

Well...

Well, it's not a group, per se.  It's more of a chat.  It's what we-in-the-know call a group chat.  And you have to be invited.  You can't just join.  Someone already in the group has to invite you in.

Oh yeah, I got added a few weeks ago.  I didn't tell you 'cause...  Well, 'cause it's a SECRET group chat, and all that.

Funny story, actually.  One day, I was messagin' back and forth with Fifi, you see.  You know Fifi, she's the French Poodle over on Pine.  Anyway, I was bragging 'bout how you had finally arranged for me to get my top security clearance, even though you-know-who doesn't have his yet.  And we laughed and laughed and laughed.  Then we laughed some more.  And a little more after that.  I was rollin' on the floor, in here, I was laughin' so hard.  I'm surprised you didn't hear me, my laughter was so loud.

MOUSES!

What?  Oh, never mind that, Peepers.  What's a little top security clearance claim here or there?  I was tryin' to impress the ladies, you see.  Well, I was tryin' to impress Fifi, anyway.

Even if she is a dog.

MOUSES!

Anyway...

Anyway, Blondie, bein' his usual not-so-intelligent self, overheard Fifi laughin', I guess, and started readin' her messages, and...

What?  No, I'm not makin' blonde jokes.  That's his name.  Blondie.  It's his actual name.  Apparently, it's a name often given to Golden Labs.

You know, Peepers, they say Golden Labs are smart, but I just don't see it.

Why?  'Cause Blondie over there, read my messages to Fifi.  And I was workin' on my French - tryin' to impress her, you see - when I must have referred to myself as Seville le chat.  'Cause as you know, in Messenger you're writing, right?  So I must have written somethin' like, Bonjour Fifi.  C'est moi, Seville le chat.

And Blondie, bein' Blondie, must have mistaken that for meanin'  that I was askin' for an invite to their little secret group chat.  

The rest is history, and uh...

Well...

Well, get this:  Le chat is now in on the chat.

MOUSES!

Funniest part is, it's a group chat for dogs.  Dogs and only dogs.  No cats are allowed.  

Which is why I'm tryin' to keep a low profile.  I'm the only cat in the group, and like I said, I'm really not supposed to be there.  I'm not even sure Fifi realises I've been listenin' in.

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

LOTS of stuff.  There's lots and lots of stuff to hear about in there.  Gossip, galore.  And more!

Peepers, did you know...

Of course you don't know.  You're not in the group chat.

But anyway, Peepers, did you know Buster over on Beech got busted?  Yup, it's true.  Buster got busted, diggin' in old man Johnson's backyard.  I believe he pooped in there, too.

MOUSES!

And Ziggy, over on Poplar?  Apparently, Ziggy can't catch a frisbee to save his own life.  Everyone is sayin' it so it absolutely must be true.

Oh, and Chester?  Yeah, Chester on Hemlock.  That's the guy.  Now, this rumour is particularly bad.  Chester's peep never scoops up his poop, and it's givin' the rest of the dogs in the neighbourhood a really bad reputation.  Givin' the rest of the dogs' peeps in the neighbourhood bad reps, too.

NO, it's not his peep's poop.

I don't think.

No, it's definitely not his peep's poop.

I hope.

Yeah, definitely Chester's.  Definitely Chester's poop.  Chester's peep takes Chester for walks in order for Chester to...  You know...  Relieve himself.  But after Chester has done his business, his peep never scoops.  SHOCKING, for sure.

Of course, Rex is keepin' track of all the Chester-poopin'-without-scoopin' incidents.  As a German Shepherd, Rex takes law enforcement very seriously, you see.

MOUSES!

Peepers, you know, if you want in on this group chat, I'm pretty sure I can add you.  Now that I'm in, I think can invite others, too.  I know it's a dogs only group chat and you're not a dog, but then, neither am I.  Just don't do 'round tellin' everyone what you hear.  Remember, it's a SECRET group chat.

Wouldn't want this stuff to end up on CNN, or anythin' like that.

MOUSES!

But if anyone does ask, tell them Blondie added you.  Everyone in the group will believe that. 

MOUSES!