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!

what?

What?

I said, WHAT?

Who the mousie mousin' mouses does she think she...

Oh, for mousin' out loud.

MOUSES!

So get this: Peepers has this stupid idea that she is in charge.

Yup, you heard me correctly.  Peepers thinks SHE is in charge.

In charge of Saffy and me.

Can you believe it?

MOUSES!

So last night, Saffron was wantin' to go outside.  Oh sure, it was around 11pm and already dark - obviously - but Saffy was still wantin' outside.  So he waltzed over to the peep and very politely asked her to follow him to the front door and let him out.

Okay, so it was more of an impolite stare followed by a rather loud meow, but still...  The cat was really wantin' outside!

Peepers, bein' a peep, said no.  She said, "No, Saffron, it's late.  It's dark.  You're in for the night."

Of all the nerve.

Who the mouses does she think she is?

MOUSES!

Well, Saffy wasn't takin' no for an answer.  So as he couldn't open the front door himself, he did the next best thing: he went and asked Peep #2.

SUCCESS.

Yup, Peep #2 let Saffy outside.

MOUSES!

Well, this mornin', all h's and e's and double hockey sticks broke out.  Peepers let it be known that she was none too pleased 'bout havin' to be up 'til well past midnight, in order to get Saffron back in.

That's right, she said "MOUSES!" and  everythin'.

MOUSES!

But all this brings me back to the topic at paw: WHO THE MOUSES DOES THAT PEEP THINK SHE IS?  Why the mouses does she think she's in charge?  Who gave her that idea?  Who told her that she was?

Certainly not Saffron nor me.

Peepers thinks she'll all that just 'cause she can walk about on two paws.

Well, I can walk about on two paws, too.

If I try.

If I WANTED to try, that is.

For at least twenty seconds, or so.

Maybe.

For two seconds, for sure.

MOUSES!

But it just goes to show you, doesn't it.  It just goes to show you that when you teach a baby peep to walk, the next thing you know, they go and grow up and think they're actually in charge.

Stupidest thing I've ever heard.

MOUSES!

wearin' the green

Hey Peepers!  PEEPERS!  PEEPERS!

Yeah, I was talkin' to you.

MOUSES!

So anyway, Peepers, I'm not sure if you were aware of this or not, but tomorrow is St. Patrick's Day.

You know, the day celebratin' everythin' green.

MOUSES!

OF COURSE I KNOW St. Patrick's Day is about more than just wearin' green.  Which, by the way, does not apply to us cats.  Us cats - specifically Saffron and I - have no intention of wearin' anythin' green.

Not that we're opposed to wearin' green, of course.  There's nothin' wrong with wearin' green.  Nothin' wrong with it, at all.  What we're opposed to is the idea of wearin' clothes of any kind.

Us cats prefer to go nekkid, you see.

MOUSES!

But back to the business of St. Patrick's Day.

You and Peep #2 should wear somethin' green to celebrate the day.  Green sweaters.  Green pants.  Green whatever you have.  But most important of all, make sure you're wearin' SOMETHIN', okay?

Cats prefer non-nekkid peeps, you see.

MOUSES!

And besides wearin' the green, we should go all out with the green fuds and stuff.  A little grass added to our dins-dins would go over quite well.  Oh, and a sprig of catnip on the side, would be especially nice.

And along with the fuds, we need to think 'bout what we should drink.  Drinkin' is an important part of celebratin' St. Patrick's Day, you see.  Irish pubs are gonna be filled to brim.

NO, I'm not plannin' on gettin' drunk.

Gettin' NIPPED, on the other paw...

Never you mind that I get nipped every day of the year.  On St. Patrick's Day, I should be sure to get nipped, more than once.

So nip tea should be served from dawn until dusk, and...

And yes, make sure that nip tea is really good and green.

Not to mention strong.

MOUSES!

And one other thing, Peepers.  Just one other thing you should do.

Since it's a special occasion...

Since tomorrow is a special occasion, a bouquet of shamrocks should be sittin' right there in the centre of the table.  Not for eatin', of course.  Just for display.

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

Yes, that is what you heard.  On the table.  On the dinin' room table.  Right there in the middle.  'Cause on special occasions, it's customary for us cats to eat at the table with you and Peep #2, and...

WELL IT'S CUSTOMARY NOW, OL' PEEPERS OF MINE.  So lump it or leave it.  If you two peeps don't wanna eat at the table with us, you can eat on the floor.

Just don't look at Saffron and me to help you back up.

Back up off the floor.

'Cause with peeps, gettin' down is quite easy but sometimes gettin' back up is an entirely different story, you see.

MOUSES!

Oh, and after our celebratory din-dins, we can all read 'bout the various St. Patrick's Day adventures, I've had over the years.

2014:  Seville's Four-Leaved Clovers

2015:  Catnip and Fairy Dust

2016:  Finders Keepers...  Maybe

2018:  The Infestation

HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY, EVERYBODY!

changing times

Don't complain to me, Peepers.  I like it, myself.

Got to have my brekkies a whole hour earlier, today.

MOUSES!

What?  What's that, Peepers?  You're NOT complainin', you say?

Hmmm...

Then what's with all the moanin' and groanin' I was hearin' you do?  I know I heard you complaining 'bout SOMETHIN'.  Complaining 'bout somethin' 'bout somethin', for sure.

And durin' all that complainin', I'm sure I heard the mention of clocks bein' changed.

MOUSES!

What?  What's that, Peepers?  What's that you're complainin' about now?

Hmmm...

OH....

Oh.

Okay, so you actually WERE complaining 'bout the clocks bein' changed.

Literally.

You were LITERALLY complaining 'bout changin' the time on the clocks.

That somethin' you don't know how to do?

Don't bother answerin', ol' peep of mine.  That was a rhetorical question of sorts.  I think I've figured it out.

Unlike you, who took almost fifteen minutes to change the one stupid clock on the stove.

MOUSES!

No, no.  No, I'm not sayin' I know how to change the time on the clocks.

If I tell her I do know, she'll designate me the official clock changer of the house.

And I've already got enough work to do.

MOUSES!

So let me get this straight, there, ol' Peepers of mine.  You, like me, actually quite like the start of Daylight Saving Time.  You like havin' an extra hour of light at night, to enjoy the ol' great outdoors.  And you're quite happy that the sun doesn't rise at 4:30 in the morning durin' the height of summer.  And most importantly, you enjoyed givin' me my brekkies a whole hour earlier today.

But the actual changin' of the clocks...

The actual physical changin' of clocks part...

Well, when it comes to actually physically changin' the time on all the clocks all through the house, it drives you nuts 'cause every clock has to be done slightly differently, and you have to get each one just right.  And as the one on the stove has a couple buttons to press after changin' the time - you know,  those buttons you kept forgettin' to press - well, that's why it took like fifteen minutes to change the time on only that one stupid clock.

Which, by the way - although perhaps I shouldn't say - is not yet correctly set.

'CAUSE YOU SET IT AN HOUR AHEAD OF WHEN YOU FIRST STARTED CHANGIN' THE TIME, is why. 

So now it's 'bout fifteen minutes off.

MOUSES!

Well I hear you, Peepers.  I understand your dilemma.  I'm feelin' your pain, to be sure.  But what I don't understand...

What I don't understand, is why you don't just do the same thing you do with the clock in the car.

You know.

Oh, sure you do.

Yeah, that's right, Peepers.  That's EXACTLY what you do.

That's what I'm sayin', Peepers.  Do that.  Do what you do with the clock in the car.  You never bother changin' that clock at all.  And because you didn't change its time back in November, you don't have to change it now!  You just had to mentally change the time in your head, for a bit.  So what?  It was only four or five months.  And mentally changin' the time didn't involve pressin' any buttons or spinnin' tiny clock hands.  All you had to do was subtract one from any given number between one and twelve.

And if subtractin' one from the time was too hard to do...

You could always look at your phone.

That's right, the phone clock elves went and changed the phone clock for you.

And I didn't hear them complaining 'bout a little manual labour, at all.

MOUSES!