"Oohhh boy." I scratched behind an ear with a hind leg before repeatin', a little more loudly this time,
"Oohhh boy."
Peepers gave me that narrow lookin' stare of hers. You know the one. The one where she narrows her eyes while starin', lettin' me know she's not about to believe whatever it is I'm gonna say.
But a cat has got to defend himself, so I flung my front paws in the air and said, "Don't look at me. I didn't make that mess. MOUSES!"
I then joined in in the staring contest with the peep. Fearing she might out stare me - which would, of course, be embarrassing - I decided to cut the contest short and concede. "Have you asked that long-haired freak of a brother of mine about that mess? Have you asked Rushton Tapio? Have you?"
And with that, ol' Peepers spun on her paws... I mean, feet, and walked out of the room.
MOUSES!
"YOU'RE HEADIN' IN THE WRONG DIRECTION!" I called after her, for I knew for a fact that Rushy was currently in the family room watchin' television, but the peep was makin' for upstairs.
Silly peep.
MOUSES!
Takin' matters into my own paws, I decided to ask Rushy 'bout the mess, myself. "Hey Rushy!" I called, entering the family room. "You know anything 'bout the mess in the litter boxes?"
Rushy looked up at me, all innocent like.
Innocent. Yeah. Right.
MOUSES!
"I said, you know anything 'bout that mess in the litter box?" I asked once again. "Peepers is all hot under the collar 'bout one of us cats goin' to town to with the litter."
"I may have used one of the boxes earlier this morning," Rushton replied. "Why do you ask?"
"Did you not hear me the first time?
I said, Peepers is all hot under the collar 'bout one of us cats goin' to town with the litter."
Rushton held up a claw. "Firstly, the peep doesn't wear a collar."
I was about to explain to my long-haired freak of a brother that
hot under the collar is merely an expression, and doesn't mean Peepers actually wears tags with her name and address or flea repellents 'round her neck, when Rushton held up a second claw.
"And secondly, a cat cannot go to town in a litter box. Litter boxes have no wheels. They cannot be used as a carriage."
I stared at my brother in disbelief. Obviously, with the cooler weather encouraging him to stay indoors more, Rushton had been watchin' way too much so-called educational TV.
"Mouses, Rushy," I began. "The peep wasn't talkin' about one of us hittin' the road in a litter box. SHE WAS TALKIN' about one of us dumping at least half the kitty litter out of a litter box, onto the floor."
"She was exhAHHgerrrting, I am sure," was Rushy's response, which made me laugh, 'cause
exaggerating is a pretty big - unknown prior to educational TV - word for that brother of mine, and when he pronounced it, it sounded kinda funny. MOUSES!
Swallowing a chuckle I said, "Nope, not exaggerating at all. I saw the mess myself. There was kitty litter ALL OVER the floor. It was behind the box, in front of the box, on both sides of the box... My gosh, I didn't actually look, but I wouldn't be surprised if there was kitty litter underneath the box, too! And the peep, by the way, was not pleased."
"But was she
amused?"
I rolled my eyes. "Have you been watchin' that show 'bout Queen Victoria again? Never mind," and I waved him off. "Don't bother answerin'. I know for a fact you have."
Rushy let out a loud sigh. "Sometimes a cat must kick up a little litter when..."
"DID YOU HAVE TO EVEN USE THE BOX?" I yelled at my brother.
"Why do you ask?"
"I ask on account of my seein' that mess you left back there, and even though there was litter all over the place, none of it had actually been used. It all looked like clean litter. It
looked like some cat went into the box, kicked up litter all over the place just for fun or somethin', then immediately left the room."
"I didn't immediately leave the room," Rushy answered. "I went into the box thinking I needed to pee, but when I realised I didn't, I dug around for a bit to see if digging might make me pee, which it didn't, so I dug around a bit more, but I still didn't need to pee, so..."
"So what?" and I glared at my brother.
"It's a lot harder to get the litter back into the box than it is to kick it all out."
I shook my head in disgust.
"Excuse me," said Rushton, jumping down from the chesterfield onto the floor. Tail held high, he walked right past me. "I believe I require the lavatory."
"The what?" I asked, screwing up my face as I tried to figure out what that darned, moused-up brother of mine was goin' on about now.
Hearing the distinctive sound of kitty litter bein' tossed about in the hallway outside the bathroom, I grumbled, "Oh for mousin' out loud. He's makin' another mess with that litter and I'll probably get blamed for THIS ONE by the peep, too."
I scrambled after my brother and turning the corner, heard the sound of... Uh... Well... You know, the sound of what we kitties do when in the litter box. Or lavatory. Or whatever Rushy was callin' it now.
I looked at the floor. Once again there was litter all over the place, but this time, no more so than usual. I breathed a sigh of relief, realising ol' Peepers would take THIS mess in stride.
And speakin' of strides...
That was about when Rushy brushed past me, again with his tail held high. After havin' used the ol' litter box, he was obviously on his way to watch more of his supposedly
educational TV.
MOUSES!
