I'm BEGGING you here!

MOUSES!  MOUSES!!  MOUSES!!!

Hmmm...   Did I happen to mention, MOUSES?

You're probably wonderin' what has got my fur all ruffled especially, since as a short-haired kitty, my fur very rarely ruffles.

Well last Saturday morning, Ol' Peepers here went to hang out her laundry.  As a peep, she does her laundry usin' soap and water unlike us cats who use spit and polish but I digress...

Peep #1 was all set to hang up her laundry when she discovered that someone in our neighbourhood was burnin' brush.  BURNIN' BRUSH ON LAUNDRY DAY?  Well let me tell you, I had one cranky peep on my paws, for sure.

There was my peep, tryin' to do the right thing by hangin' her laundry on the line instead of usin' a power-suckin' and carbon-emittin' clothes dryer, bein' thwarted by some other peep who decided to burn yard waste instead of compostin' it.  So what was my peep gonna do?  Was she gonna hang out her laundry on the line?  No way!  She wasn't gonna hang it out and have it come in stinkin' of smoke.  It's a pretty sad thing when your laundry is dirtier and stinkier AFTER bein' washed, you know.  Yes, a pretty sad thing, indeed.

Had the peep hung out her laundry, she would have had to have re-washed it when it came in to get rid of the stench of the smoke.  That would have used more water and even more electricity and then, in the end, she would have ended up puttin' it in the dryer after all.  MOUSES!

DOES NO ONE CARE ABOUT OUR PLANET?

Of course, bein' a considerate cat, I allowed the peep to give me some chin tickles and tummy rubs until she calmed down and felt better.

After calmin' the peep, I went to work investigatin' the crime at paw.  You heard me correctly... CRIME.  'Cause what I had just witnessed was a crime against nature and the environment, for sure. It's no wonder Mother Nature has been dishin' out such nasty weather lately.  She's probably feelin' pretty cranky, too.  Just like my peep.  MOUSES!

Turns out, the people down the street who were burnin' brush last Saturday mornin' were doin' so illegally.  Turns out, NO DOMESTIC BURNIN' is allowed anywhere in the Province of Nova Scotia durin' the hours of 8am and 2pm.  Nowhere, not under any circumstances.  I have to admit, I was quite proud of my province after findin' out about that.

But then I got to thinkin'...  Why can they burn brush in the afternoons?  Hmmm...  This required more investigatin' on my part, for sure.

No one really needs to burn brush or leaves.  It's simply not necessary.  Leaves, of course, can be composted.  They should be composted.  No doubt about that.  My peep composts leaves all the time and uses them as mulch, too.  They make great mulch for the primroses and whatnot growin' in my garden.

As for brush, there are other ways to get rid of it. Peep #1 has never in her life burned brush.  She has two little brush piles for the wildlife that appreciates such things and when she needs to get rid of stuff that can't go in those piles - like the bramble canes that scratched her to bits last week - she puts it in the green bin where it'll be taken away for composting.  Sure, she's limited by what she can fit into the bin but what doesn't fit one week, will surely fit the next time around.  Kind of goes without sayin', I should think.

Now I know, some peeps out there just like to burn things.  Strange but true, unfortunately.

But why do they have to burn stuff in the afternoon? Why can't they burn stuff startin' in the evening? When it won't interfere with peeps tryin' to do laundry or openin' their windows to let fresh air into the house or just enjoyin' the great outdoors?

It seems to me that it would be far better to PROHIBIT ALL DOMESTIC BURNIN' during the hours of 8am to to 7pm, no matter what the weather.  As it is, dependin' on the weather and the forest fire probability, there are already some days when this occurs.  Why not every day?  Then, if peeps have their hearts set on lighting a fire, they can do so in the evenin' and throughout the night.  They can still burn their brush - no matter how unnecessarily - but do so without interferin' with everyone else.

But what about camp fires?  Could you roast veggie dogs and tofu burgers on a camp fire for lunch if burnin' was prohibited durin' the day?  Peeps are gonna wanna know 'bout that.

Unfortunately, the answer to that question would be no but...  BUT THERE'S A WAY TO FIX THAT. Seriously, when makin' these regulations someone should have consulted a cat.  You know, to work out the kinks and whatnot.

Currently, a camp fire is considered an open fire just like a burnin' pile of brush.  Why not EXCLUDE camp fires bein' used for the purpose of cookin' food?  All it takes is a simple little clause statin' that during the hours of 2pm and 7pm, camp fires used for cookin' food can be lit providing that it's a day where burnin' will be allowed after 7pm.  MOUSES that was easy.  Why can't peeps think of stuff like that?

But back to the peep's dirty laundry and the welfare of the planet.

When someone burns brush, they pollute the air.  The burnin' of brush sends carbon emissions up the wazoo and into the atmosphere.  You're thinkin', it's just one little brush fire but no, it's not.  It's not 'cause rest assured, if one person is burnin' brush, so is another one on the next street over and another on the street beyond that.  All those little brush fires add up to one monstrously big one. MOUSES!

If an ocean is made up of tiny drops of water, the mother of all mother-carbon-emitting brush fires is made up of small little fires scattered around the neighbourhood.  Again I say...  MOUSES!

What's more, as a result of one person burnin' brush, a whole lot of other people are gonna be puttin' their wet clothes in the dryer instead of using a clothes line.  And instead of openin' their windows to allow fresh breezes to cool down their houses, they're gonna keep those windows closed 'cause of the smoke and instead, turn on their air conditioners.  With all those clothes dryers and air conditioners runnin' on high, the carbon emissions are addin' up even more.  They're addin' up EXPONENTIALLY!

It seems to me that the issue at paw is this.  Currently, the burnin' of brush is bein' handled solely by the Department of Natural Resources and it's all about forest safety.  But burnin' brush shouldn't just concern them.  There's more at stake here than the forests.  THERE'S THE PLANET!

The peeps workin' in the Department of Natural Resources are tryin' to keep our forests safe from wildfires.  That's their job but it's high time that the Department of Environment weighed in on this matter to keep the planet safe, too.

I, Nerissa the Cat, am personally imploring the Nova Scotia Minister of Environment to put his head together with the Minister of Natural Resources and to come up with a plan - TOGETHER - that will keep both our forests and our planet safe.  I'm BEGGING you here and as a cat, I very rarely beg.  What do you think I am?  A dog???

It seems to me that all the little bits we can do to help the environment add up to one big bit.  Remember those oceans.  One drop at a time, does an ocean make.  One drop at a time...

Ban all burnin' of brush from 8am 'til 7pm every day with the exception of allowin' small, open fires for the purpose of cookin' food between select hours.  Easy peasy, if you ask me but then, I'm a cat and you know...  cats are smart.  Certainly smarter than your average peep.

'Nough said.  MOUSES!

operation FLEA

Nerissa the Cat here with breaking news...

Election results are pourin' in.  The guessers have all guessed and the predictors have finished their predictin'.  The voters of Nova Scotia have voted and they have decided who will be the next Premier of our fair province.  Stephen McNeil has been elected as the next Premier of Nova Scotia.  When I last looked, the Liberals had won thirty-three of the fifty-one available seats, winning a majority government with Premier Elect Stephen McNeil as its leader.

As you might suspect, this came as a bit of a surprise to me.  I thought for sure that my pal, Earl Grey, was gonna win in a landslide.  I thought for sure that my pal, Earl Grey, was gonna be the next Premier.  I thought that for the first time in history, a Canadian province would be able to boast that they had a cat as Premier.  Unfortunately, that is not what happened.  MOUSES!

I knew by mid-afternoon that there was trouble brewing for Earl Grey's campaign.  I knew something was up.  I knew something was wrong.  I knew my pal didn't stand a chance.  You see, when the peeps arrived home after voting, they broke the news to me.  Apparently, nowhere - and I mean absolutely nowhere and without a trace - on their ballots was the name, Earl Grey.  No one could vote for my pal 'cause my pal's name was not on the ballot.  MOUSES!

I immediately went into action.  To be truthful, I first had a little cry and then I imbibed in a biff bag full of nip.  But even I will admit that catnip can do only so much for a cat so I, Nerissa the Cat, pulled myself together and implemented Operation FLEA.   That's right, FLEA as in Feline...  well...  actually...  actually the other three letters don't stand for anything.  I just thought Operation FLEA sounded really good.

Basically, I needed to infiltrate Stephen McNeil's party headquarters.  I needed a man on the ground right there in the midst of their celebratin' when the results came in.  Who to send...  who to send...

Obviously, I wasn't going to send me.  I don't like the car.  Then I thought to myself, Plush Nissy!  Plush Nissy will be the perfect infiltrator.  I've taught him everything I know.

Clearly, Plush Nissy is a cat.  This could pose a problem.  Everyone who is anyone knows that all cats in the province support the Tuxedo Party of Canada and their candidate, Earl Grey.  Plush Nissy needed a disguise.  So I grabbed a Stephen McNeil campaign button for him and tied it around his neck.  "That should do the trick!" I told the plush version of me.  "No one will ever recognise you as a Tuxedo Party supporter when you're wearin' that."  The plush me crawled into the peep's purse for transport and he and the peep were off.

They arrived at the building hosting the party to find big television news vans sportin' all sorts of satellite equipment and whatnot.  Those were pretty fancy-schmancy set-ups those television crews had but Plush Nissy and I weren't fazed.  We weren't intimidated at all.  A little jealous, perhaps.  All I had was a plush me in the peep's purse.  MOUSES!

Once inside the campaign headquarters, Plush Nissy and I kept in constant communication with one another.  I had placed a wire in the campaign button for just that purpose.  I told the plush me to have a look around and see what he could see without being too conspicuous.  "Listen in to what the crowds are saying," I told him.  "See if anyone is talking 'bout our Earl Grey."

It wasn't long before the plush me came across a man named Robert Thibault.  The name sounded familiar and I did a quick background check on him.  At times like this, it sure is handy to be a member of the FBI...   Feline Bureau of Investigation.  Sure enough, my search discovered that he was someone pretty famous.  A former Member of Parliament or something like that.  I told Plush Nissy to get a picture of him and that's just what the plush me did.

Unfortunately, that was the beginning of the end for my fabric counterpart's good behaviour.  Plush Nissy took one look at the table set up with food and made a run for it.  I knew I should have sent him with snacks.

Apparently, the food assortment was a disappointment.  No Fancy Feast...  no Treat Temptations...  no NIP!  What kind of party has no nip?  I bet Earl Grey had nip at his end of campaign party.  Clearly, Stephen McNeil was not expecting any cats to attend his event.

"It's okay," stated the plush me.  "I've got a nip mouse here at the bottom of the peep's purse.  I snuck it in when you weren't looking.  I'll just crawl down and have a sniff or two."

"Careful of the nip!" I cried but it was too late.  The plush me was already down at the bottom of the purse.

For what seemed like an eternity, all I could hear through the communications button was Plush Nissy enjoyin' that nip mouse.   He was clearly enjoyin' himself a little too much.

Plush Nissy finally emerged from the bottom of the purse to do some investigating.  He listened in on the conversations around him.  There were so many conversations.  Peeps all over were talking 'bout the elections but quite a few were talking 'bout other stuff, too. 

Through the communications button I heard one man say that this guy and that guy had always supported other parties before this election.  They had switched sides.  I wondered if any Tuxedo Party supporters had switched sides.  "Look for cats," I instructed the plush me.  He said there were none.  He appeared to be the only cat at the party.

People everywhere were watching big television screens and every now and then they would let out loud hoots and hollers.  There would be clapping and cheering every time the television screen showed one of their candidates winning a riding.  The excitement was rising.  Soon Stephen McNeil would appear. 

Tip-toeing through the crowd, Plush Nissy discovered that absolutely no one was mentioning the Tuxedo Party or Earl Grey.  No one at all.  He crept up to one of the large television screens to see if they were anywhere on the board.  Nothing.  No trace.  MOUSES!

But it was okay, I realised, for Stephen McNeil himself had signed Earl Grey's Pledge of Compassion.  Stephen McNeil himself had made a promise to the cats of this province...  not to mention the many thousands of peeps who care about cats, too.  Everything was gonna be okay even if Earl Grey wasn't gonna be Premier.

"Nissy," said the plush me.   "It's super loud in here and I've gotta give my ears a break.  I think I'll just head down to the bottom of the peep's purse and sniff a little of that nip mouse."

"Careful of the nip!" I cried but again, I was too late.  The plush me had disappeared into the purse once more.

An hour or more later, Plush Nissy emerged from the purse.  Clearly, he had been nappin' down there.  And what a sight he was.  What a dishevelled looking mess was the plush me.  His ribbon had come undone and his communications button was all askew.  That was just about the time when Premier Elect Stephen McNeil picked him up for a photo op.  I held my head in my paws and shook it in dismay.  There was the plush me - REPRESENTING ME - and lookin' like a complete mess.  What would my readers think?  The camera flash went off and it was too late.  Oh yeah, sure...  Stephen McNeil came out lookin' great but what about the plush me?


And the plush me totally forgot to thank Premier McNeil for signing the Pledge of Compassion.  He totally forgot to do that and it was so very, very important. 

That Plush Nissy simply cannot hold his nip.  I suppose, though, it's not entirely his fault.  He was enjoying that nip mouse on an empty stomach.  Had there been some Fancy Feast or Treat Temptations available, the plush me would have handled the nip far better.  Hmmm...  there should have been some cat snacks available.  I mean...  once they figured out that Earl Grey's name had been omitted from the ballot, they should have realised a cat or two might switch sides.  Not that the plush me and I were switching sides or anything.  We're still loyal to the Tuxedo Party of Canada.  After all, we're still cats. 

because neglect STILL isn't workin'!

...and that's why Earl Grey has my vote for Premier.  'Nough said.

Last autumn, something wonderful and miraculous happened in the Province of Nova Scotia.  What was wonderful was the fact that a tuxedo cat named Stan ran for Mayor of the largest city in this fair province.   What was miraculous was that the politicians of the province sat up and took notice.  We feline Nova Scotian residents finally had a voice and were bein' heard.  Amazin'.

I blogged all about Stan and his run for Mayor, last autumn.  Other news outlets picked up the story too but let's face it, as a Nova Scotian feline reporter, I sort of had the inside scoop.  You can read all about Stan's run for Mayor in my blog post, Stan is your man!

Although Stan was runnin' for Mayor of HRM, his name was suspiciously left off the ballot.  MOUSES!  Conspiracy theorists have come up with several theories as to why however so far, none have been proven.  On the other paw, none have been disproven, either.

Undeterred, we cats all knew what the autumn of 2013 would bring.  We Nova Scotian kitties were plannin' the biggest electoral upset in the history of Canadian politics.  October 2013 would bring a provincial election and our man Stan would run for Premier.

Then the unthinkable happened.  The day after the provincial election was called, Stan had to make his journey to the Rainbow Bridge.  What a terribly sad day it was for kitties all around the world when my pal Stan succumbed to cancer just a few short weeks ago. 

But Stan didn't leave us on our own.  He passed the political torch to his brother, Earl Grey, who is now running for Premier of Nova Scotia.  That's right...  in the upcoming provincial election, the number one, best-looking and most charming candidate is a cat.  Yoo-hoo!  YOO-HOO!  Excuse my exuberance but I just can't help but be enthusiastic at a time like this.  We have a cat running for Premier.  FINALLY!

Earl Grey is goin' nose-to-nose and paw-to-paw with the leaders of those other political parties.  Watch out MLAs, Misters Dexter, Baillie and McNeil.  The leader of the Tuxedo Party of Canada has four paws to your every two and when it comes to noses, that cute little pink one of Earl Grey's is by far the best lookin'.  Politicians disagree on a lot of stuff but there's no way, no how, that they can disagree about that.  It's a fact.

Earl Grey's candidacy has even been noticed by federal politicians.  In his recent trip to our province, the leader of the Federal Liberal Party was spotted chatting it up with an Earl Grey minion.  Yes, Justin Trudeau took the opportunity for a photo op with Earl Grey's furry representative.  Clearly, this is an attempt on Member of Parliament Trudeau's part to further political relations between our province and Ottawa.  Either that or he's worried that Earl Grey might eventually make a run for Prime Minister.


There are those factions who see Earl Grey's run for Premier as a gimmick.   Nothing but a bit of fun.  Those people couldn't be more wrong.  They couldn't be further from the truth.  The plight of Nova Scotian kitties is no laughing matter.  It's not funny at all. 

In the Province of Nova Scotia, live a large number of abandoned, unwanted and feral cats.  These cats are usually unspayed and unneutered and through no fault of their own, contribute to the cat overpopulation. 

Imagine living through a Nova Scotian winter alone and homeless.  Nowhere to go.  Nowhere to turn.  No one to help you. 

When temperatures dip far below the freezing point, the very ground upon which you walk becomes a painful torture.  The pads of your paws redden.  They become inflamed and raw.  Every step hurts.  Your tummy is empty but long ago gave up growling for growling was futile.  There are no mice to catch.  No moles.  No squirrels.  The ground is covered in snow and the only food available is what you might manage to scrounge from someone's garbage can.

If you're lucky, you might find a kind-hearted soul who will leave out for a dish of food for you, now and then.  But not everyone has a kind heart.  For every caring person you come across, you'll find another who would think nothing of giving you a kick in your side with their boot or chase you away from their doorstep with a broom.  And those people who do try their best to help the homeless cats of this province often face the wrath and ire of the unkind.  They're labelled as being "bleeding hearts" and scorned. 

My opinion is that to have a heart that does not bleed, marks you as inhuman.

In Earl Grey's Campaign Platform, he makes several worthwhile recommendations for the Animal Protection Act.  Abandoning companion animals would be made illegal, affordable spaying and neutering clinics would become available and those investigating and prosecuting charges of animal cruelty would be able to do so without having all four paws tied behind their backs.

The current Animal Protection Act, although revised in April of this year, clearly lacks any bite when it comes to the plight of cats in this province.  Nowhere in the act does it even mention the word, cat.  MOUSES!

As stated in Earl Grey's Pledge of Compassion and Action, this province's animal protection legislation "is dated and inadequate."  He asks that all candidates from all parties sign his pledge, promising to "help animals in our province."  Although a number of candidates have signed Mr. Grey's pledge, there are still a number of them who have not.   It's not too late.  The campaign isn't over until it's over.  There is still time.  You can still sign on the dotted line.

Many of the voters of this province truly believe that it is the provincial government's responsibility to put things in place that will help homeless cats.  People are often shocked to find out that many shelters do not receive adequate government funding if they receive any at all.  They also complain when charges of animal cruelty are dropped or when those convicted are not punished severely enough.  These issues have been brushed under the carpet for far too long.  It is time for the provincial legislators to recognise that animal welfare is an extremely important issue to the people of Nova Scotia.  And if it takes what they believe to be a light-hearted joke to get them to listen, then so be it.  It's time for the message to be heard.

Earl Grey's message is clear.  NEGLECT ISN'T WORKING.

***  All photos were used with the kind permission of Earl Grey's campaign staff.