my brother Rushton

And then there was one.

As some of you may remember, when my brother Nerissa started this blog a number of years ago, I was one of several cats.  There were twelve of us at one point.  Twelve.  TWELVE!

But now, there is only one.

Late Sunday night, while being held in Peepers' arms, my brother Rushton Tapio left this world for Heaven.  He's now up there with Nissy and Anderson, and Mason, and...  Well he's up in Heaven with all my fur-sibs who have gone before him.

As you can imagine, our house is a pretty sad house right now.  Sad and empty, and lonely, too.

But our loss is Heaven's gain, for I'm bettin' Rushy is havin' a wonderful time up there, meetin' up with fur-sibs he hasn't seen in years.  Nissy has probably already told him where he can get his paws on the best nip.  Bet there are whole big fields of the stuff growin' year 'round.  And butterflies!  My sister Constance loved chasin' butterflies, and I wouldn't be surprised if she has already taken Rushy on a butterfly chasin' expedition.  Chasing 'em through one of Nissy's catnip fields, perhaps?  What fun they must be having.

But the peeps and I, of course, are missing him terribly.

And we're very, very sad.

PURRS.

Even if I did tease Rushy a bit on my blog, I stilled loved him lots.  After all, he was my brother.

PURRS.

I've never been an only cat before, you know.  At least not since I came to live with the peeps back in 2008.  I've always had lots of fur-sibs about.


But now...

Now I am all alone.  It's just me.

And that, my friends, is not all it's cut out to be.

MOUSES!

Now, when the peeps need a cat to cuddle, it's all on me.

Now, when the peeps need a cat to tickle, it's all on me.

NOW, when the peeps need a cat to smother in kisses and harass to no end, it's all on me.

LITERALLY.  It's LITERALLY all on me.  Last night, I was cuddled and smothered in kisses and all those smotherin' kisses were ALL. ON. ME.

MOUSES!

And now, when someone knocks over a dish of kibble and said kibble ends up scattered all over the kitchen floor...

NOW, there's no one to blame...

BUT ME!

I'm tellin' ya, this sucks the big one, for sure.  I tried blamin' Peep #2 for the spilt kibble incident, but Peep #1 wasn't buyin' it for an instant, as apparently, when said event occurred, Peep #2 was still up in bed and therefore could not possibly have spilled said kibble all over the floor.

Or so the peep said.

MOUSES!

This, my friends, is not an ideal situation.  It's not an ideal situation at all!  I'm gonna have to go out and find myself a fur-sib or two.

Either that, or confine my mischief makin' to when both peeps are up and awake.

BUT EVERYONE KNOWS mischief makin' is best done in the middle of the night.

MOUSES!

However for now, I'm gonna just sit here and think about Rushton for a bit, and remember what a wonderful brother he was.  I was lucky to have him, you know.  I was very lucky, indeed.

PURRS.

the Santa Sack, part II

Previously on Nerissa's Life:  Seville leaned his head out of the phone booth.  "You three had better take my lantern and start lookin' for some more quarters.  This call might take a while.  Some stupid elf went and put me on hold.  MOUSES!"

Your call is important to us.  Please stay on the line to maintain your calling sequence priority.

"Oh for mousin' out loud," Seville groaned.  "This is ridiculous.  I wonder if...  Hmmm..." and he began to punch random numbers on the telephone keypad.

You have dialed an incorrect number.  Please try again.  You have dialed an incorrect number.  Please try again.  You have have dialed...

"Then how 'bout this?" and Seville dialed a seven.

"Can you hold on for a minute?" a high-pitched voice asked.  "Do you mind if I put you on hold?"

"NO!" Seville hollered, but the elf on the other end of the line had already gone.  He dialed seven again, and when the elf picked up the phone this time, Seville yelled, "DON'T PUT ME ON HOLD!"

Seville could hear a lot of noise in the background.  Basic background chatter.  Elves muttering about something being wrong.  Bells frantically ringing.  Elves scolding one another.  More bells ringing, more frantically than before.  Rudolf asking someone - probably an elf - if they could help him practise his pre-flight sequence.  EVEN MORE ringing bells, ringing EVEN MORE frantically than ever.  He could picture utter chaos up at the North Pole: parcels backing up on conveyor belts and bells indicating impending parcel backup disasters.  And then above all the noise and commotion; above all the accusatory elf voices and ringing bells; above all the chaos currently taking place at the North Pole, Seville heard...

"WELL YOU DON'T HAVE TO YELL.  Let me put you on hold."

Seville was sure he felt hot steam pouring out of his ears, and he punched in a zero followed by the star symbol, then the number sign, and then three nines.

"How did you get this number?" a deep voice half growled, half chuckled, on the other end of the line.

"Santa, is that you?"

"Seville, is that YOU?"

"YES!" Seville squealed, high-fiving the air.  "Oh thank goodness, I thought I'd never get through to you.  Your elves kept putting me on hold."

"Well they're mighty busy down in the workshop, right now.  To tell you a secret, we've hit a bit of a holiday snafu.  Nothing we can't clear up by Christmas Eve though, Seville.  Don't you worry, you'll definitely get those nip mice you asked for this year."

Seville paused, unsure how to broach the subject of not only his firstpaw knowledge of Santa's workshop problems, but also the fact he appeared to be in possession of Santa's magical sack, which was, he was sure, in fact Santa's workshop problem.

"Ummm...  Santa?  The problems you're havin' up at the North Pole..."  He pawed at the floor of the telephone booth.  "Those problems...  Do they have anythin' to do with your magical Santa sack bein' missin'?"

Santa didn't respond.

"It IS missin', isn't it," Seville continued.  He wasn't asking a question; just wanting confirmation.

"How do you know about my missing Santa sack, Seville?"

"Well uh...  Um...." and Seville proceeded to tell Santa all about the Santa suit he had ordered from some dude on e-Bay, and how it came with a sack - as expected - but that the sack was magic and now he and his three fur-sibs were trapped inside.

Seville could hear a clock ticking in the background.  Likely the clock Santa kept on his desk.  He remembered it from the picture he had taken of Santa in his office one year while visiting.

After what felt like an eternity, Santa spoke up.  "You've got yourself into a right pickle there, Seville, haven't you."  Again, not a question.  Santa was stating an obvious fact.

"I have," sighed Seville.  "My fur-sibs and I don't know how to get out of this here sack AND we don't know how to get the sack back to you in time for Christmas.  Have you got any ideas how to go 'bout doin' those things?"

Santa chuckled, "Luckily for you, little one, I do.  Now that I know where my sack is, resolving the issues..."

Seville heard a loud crash on the other end of the line.  The mountain of gifts that had been piling up at the end of the conveyor belt instead of being put into Santa's magical sack had collapsed under their own weight.  He knew the noise must have been extremely loud to be heard all the way into Santa's office.

"Er-hm...  Don't worry about that, Seville.  Nothing breakable," he chuckled, nervously.  "I hope.  But as I told you, now that I know where my sack is, getting it back here is really very simple."  Santa then explained exactly what he needed Seville and his fur-sibs to do."

"So that's it?" asked Mason.  "That's all we have to do?"

Seville nodded his head up and down.  "Yup, that's what Santa said."

"It sounds too good to be true," Mason scowled, "like your on-line ordering habits do."

Seville stuck his tongue out at his sister, then, remembering Christmas was almost upon them and that kitties who stuck their tongues out at their fur-sibs might land themselves on the Naughty List, he smiled, which only made him look like a grinning Cheshire Cat, or a kitty who might have swallowed a canary, or...  "Sorry, Mason," he muttered.

The four cats then held paws, closed their eyes, and as Santa had instructed Seville, they all thought as hard as they could about needing a map to the secret escape hatch.  Seville was the first to open his eyes.  There on the floor, in the middle of the circle the cats had formed, was a map, and on that map a large letter 'X' marked the spot.  "We've got it!" he squealed with delight, snatching it up with a paw.

"I'll take that," said Mason, grabbing the map from her brother.  "It looks like we need to head that way."

How Mason was able to navigate the map was beyond Seville.  To him, it had looked like nothing more than...  Than a blank piece of paper with two locations, but with nothing to show which way was up or down, or left or right, or...

"Are you boys coming or not?" Mason asked impatiently.

"Yes, Mason," they murmured in unison.

Before long, the four cats found what appeared to be a large trap door.  Mason grabbed hold of the handle and tried to pull.  "I could use a little help here, boys," she said, so Seville got hold of Mason's tail, and Rushy held onto his, with Andy holding onto Rushton's.  "One, two, three, PULL!" Mason cried, and this time, the trap door opened with ease.  The cats all looked down into the hole below, but saw nothing but darkness.

"I thought you said this was the way out," Rushy said to Seville.  "It looks like here, except it's...  There."  Mason and Andy nodded in agreement.

"Santa said this was the way out," Seville told his fur-sibs, "and if you can't trust Santa, who can you trust?  MOUSES!"  He took Rushton's paw in one of his, and Mason's in the other, and instructed Andy to hold paws with Rushy, and together, the four cats jumped into the abyss.

"Ooof!"

"Argh!"

"Watch where you're putting that tail."

"Was that your nose I whacked, Mason?"

"Oh for mousin' out loud..."

Moments later, the four cats tumbled out onto their living room floor with the Santa sack lying flat on the ground beside them.  Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer was waiting for them, just as Santa had told Seville he would be.  "Everyone out?" he asked the cats.

Seville looked about and seeing Mason, Rushy, and Andy all grooming themselves, attempting to make it look like they had INTENDED to come clumsily tumbling out of the sack as they had, all along, he nodded.  "All here."

"I'll be on my way then," said Rudolf, grabbing onto the sack.  "Need to get this back to the North Pole, ASAP.  Let me tell you, Little Jackson is going to be on the Naughty List for the next fifty years after selling you this sack."

"Little Jackson?" asked Seville.  "You mean Jack F. from E-Bay?"

Rudolf nodded, "Jack Frost's great, great grandson.  No...  Great, great, GREAT grandson.  He's a bit of a rascal, as they say.  Far worse than his great great great grandfather ever was."

Rudolf turned to leave but Seville had one more question.  "Rudolf, how come the sack even has a built-in escape hatch?"  Seville thought he saw a blush creep across Rudolf's face, although it IS hard to tell when a reindeer with a bright red nose is blushing.

"Way back when, when I was a very young reindeer, I managed to get myself stuck in that sack," Rudolf explained, pawing at the floor with a hoof.  "It was humiliating.  After that, Santa asked Mrs Claus to sew in a pocket on the sack to be used as an escape route if anyone else should get trapped inside."

Seville could tell Rudolf was embarrassed about having been caught in the Santa sack, so he slapped the reindeer on the back in a friendly manner and smiled.  "Well I, for one, am pretty darned happy that happened to you back then.  Had it not, Mrs Claus would never have sewn in that pocket and my fur-sibs and I would still be trapped in that there sack.  That escape hatch sure did save our furry tails today."

Rudolf smiled back.  "Merry Christmas, you four," he said, before heading out the front door.  "See you Christmas Eve!" and with that, he took flight.

"Merry Christmas!" Seville, Mason, Rushy, and Andy cried, waving to Rudolf as he flew higher and higher into the air, finally disappearing out of sight.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

the Santa Sack, part I

This particular adventure actually happened last year, in December of 2018.  I started writin' about it then, but never got the chance to publish it, and in January, my brother Anderson succumbed to cancer, and then my sister, Mason, soon after that.  But a couple weeks ago, I read what I had written last year, when Mason and Andy were still with us, and my heart filled with joy.  It brought back all the memories of the fun we had together, and how much I loved them both.  So I thought to myself;  maybe my pals might enjoy reading 'bout our last adventure together, too.  Enjoy!  PURRS.

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

"Jingle bells, Santa smells, jingle all the way..." Seville sang to himself while wrapping up presents.

"That's not very nice, you know," Mason said as she entered the room.  "Santa doesn't smell."

"Hmmm....  You might be right there, ol' sister of mine.  He probably doesn't.  Let's see...  Got it!" he squealed, snapping his claws.  "Jingle bells, Mason smells..."

"And THAT'S not very nice, either."

"Meh...  Perhaps not, but it most definitely IS factual."

"It is not!" cried Mason, her front paws now on her hips.

"Obviously you've never used the litter box after yourself.  MOUSES!"

Mason growled.  "Seville, I came to tell you there's someone at the door looking for you.  A delivery guy says he needs your pawnature."

"Oohhh...  I bet that's the parcel I've been expectin'.  Wait 'til you see what I ordered, Mason.  Be right back."

Seville returned moments later, dragging a large box behind him.  He used a claw to tear through the tape holding the box together, then pushed up the lid.  A wide grin grew across his face as he stared at the plush red fabric, within.

Andy and Rushton poked their heads into the living room.  "Did someone send you a prezzie, Sivvers?" Andy asked.

"Nope.  I ordered this myself," and he held up the red jacket to admire it.  "What a beaut!  I'm gonna be the best dressed cat in town this Christmas, for sure."

"You bought yourself a Santa Suit?" Rushy asked in awe.

"From whom?" asked Mason, a tone of suspicion evident in her voice.

Seville rolled his eyes.  "Some guy on e-Bay, of course.  Where else would I get something like this?"

"You have to be careful when buying things on-line, Seville," Mason said, her lips pursed together in  a know-it-all, sisterly smirk.  "There are all sorts of scammers out there.  That outfit will likely fall apart the first time you wear it.  It was probably made in China," she muttered.

"Don't be so negative, Mason.  I ordered this suit from a reputable dealer.  PLUS, I know a guy, who knows a guy, who knows a guy who kinda knows this other guy; the one who was sellin' the suit."

"And I know a guy who knows a guy who knows a GAL who kinda knows a guy needing a smacky-paw behind his ears."

Seville looked up.  "Who?"  He paused.  "Oh.  Never mind.  MOUSES!"

As Seville was donning the jacket, Rushy reached into the box.  "There's more stuff in here, Seville.  More than just the suit."

"The jacket is supposed to come with a Santa hat and sack," Seville answered.  "I think that there is the sack."

Rushton pulled it out of the box.  "It feels like there might be something inside."

Seville's ears perked up.  "A gift with purchase, perhaps?  I didn't even know about that.  What fun!  See what's inside, would ya?  I'm still tryin' to...  ARGH!" he growled with frustration.  "I'm still tryin' to get my other front paw into the sleeve of this here jacket."

Mason shook her head and turned to leave the room, but the sight of Rushton's tail protruding from the Santa sack made her pause.  Something didn't look right.  "Rushy, that bag isn't big enough for you to fit inside it."

"Is too..." Rushton called back, his voice sounding eerily distant.

Andy approached and lifted up the edge of the Santa sack, causing Rushy's tail to disappear inside.  He poked his head in it, too, and then back out.  "Uh, Sivvers...  Mason?  Rushton isn't in there, but I know I saw his tail disappear into that sack."

"Oh for crying out loud," Mason snapped, grabbing the edge of the sack from Andy.  "He is too in there, he..."  She looked over at Seville.  "Seville, Andy is right."

Seville nearly fell backwards from shock.  (You know, on account of Andy being right.)  With the jacket now on, he padded over to the Santa sack and lifted it up.  It was as light as a feather.  "He's not in there, Sis.  I couldn't pick up the sack if there was a long-haired freak of a brother inside.  Rushy's not as heavy as Andy," and he looked skeptically at his brother, "but still..."

"But I saw him go inside it!" Andy exclaimed.

"I did, too," said Mason.

Seville rolled his eyes.  "For mousin' out loud.  I'll prove it to you," and with that, Seville crawled inside the sack himself.

"WHERE DID HE GO?" Mason and Andy cried in unison.  The sack was lying flat on the floor.  There were no bulges.  No bumps.  No trace of Seville, even though both cats saw their brother crawl inside it.

Mason lifted up the bag and peered in, but it still appeared to be empty.  She looked back out at Andy.  "He isn't in there.  Nor is Rushy."

"Let ME see!" Andy cried, but in his haste to take a peek, Andy tripped over his front paws and bumped into Mason, and before either cat knew it, they were both tumbling head over paws into the depths of a large, dark cavern.  Finally coming to a stop, they looked about but could see nothing but darkness all around them.

"FINALLY," exclaimed Seville.  "I thought you two would never get here."  He padded over to his fur-sibs, carrying a lantern.

"WHO did you say sold you that Santa outfit, Seville?" Mason asked, her voice very wary, now.

"I told you, some dude on-line.  He did say the outfit was special..."  Seville's voice trailed off.

"Stolen property is more like it," scowled Mason.  "Do you think this could actually be Santa's sack?  Santa must use magic like this to fit in it all the nip mice and feather wand toys he delivers every Christmas to all the kitties around the world."

"Not to mention treats," added Andy.  "Santa brings lots and lots of treats."

Seville sat back on his haunches to think.

"Look what I found!" cried out Rushton, suddenly appearing at Seville's side.  "Mason mentioned nip mice and I thought to myself, boy would I ever like a nip mouse right about now, and the next thing I knew, there was a nip mouse right there by my paws!"

Seville's jaw dropped.  "The sack IS magic, and I bet it's Santa's sack, for sure.  We need to get it back to him, pronto.  We need to get it back to him before Christmas Eve!  We should call him up, and..."

"And WHAT?" demanded Mason.  "How are you going to call Santa?  We're stuck inside this darned thing with no way out."

Andy tugged on Seville's tail.  "You could use that telephone over there," he suggested.  "To call Santa, I mean," and he pointed to a telephone booth standing a few feet away.

"Sounds like a plan," Seville agreed, never questioning the sudden appearance of a telephone booth inside the Santa sack.  He looked about, "Anyone have a quarter?"

"There's one over here."  Rushton pointed to a quarter lying on the ground, sparkling as the light from Seville's lantern bounced off it.

Seville headed to the phone booth to make the call to the North Pole, and Mason turned to Rushton.  "Where did Seville get that lantern?" she hissed in a low whisper.

"He found it when he arrived here, wherever this place is.  When I first got here, it was pitch black, but then Seville appeared.  Now I didn't actually see him appear, because it was so dark, but I could hear him, and I heard him say something about his needing some light, and the next thing we knew, there was a lantern just sitting there, all ready to use."

"ANYONE KNOW THE AREA CODE FOR THE NORTH POLE?" Seville hollered from the phone booth.

"Eight, six, seven," answered Andy.

Everyone looked at him.

"What?  I read," he shrugged, "and sometimes I read the phone book."

Seville leaned his head out of the phone booth.  "You three had better take my lantern and start lookin' for some more quarters.  This call might take a while.  Some stupid elf went and put me on hold.  MOUSES!"

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

Be sure to tune in on Christmas Day for the conclusion to my VERY SPECIAL Christmas adventure.  PURRS

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

   

last smack in

I'm sorry, but I...

Actually, I'm not sorry at all.  It had to be done, you see.

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, yesterday, I was out and about in the garden, inspectin' this and that, and that and this, not to mention a number of other things, when...

When all of a sudden, seemingly out of nowhere, that long-haired freak of a brother of mine appeared before me.

Well we stood there, he and I, sizing each other up.  We stood there for a good long time.  He was lookin' at me.  I was lookin' at him.  Basically we were just lookin' at each another.

But then...

But then Rushton took a step back, and kinda struck a pose, so to speak.

No, not a dance pose.  Although truth be told, with these modern-type dances these days, I suppose it could have been a dance pose, with Rushy pretendin' to be twinkle toes.

MOUSES!

But with this particular pose came a low growl so I, OF COURSE, replied with a pose of my own.

MOUSES!

Blah, blah, blah...  Blah, blah, blah...  BLAH, BLAH, BLAH...

Yup, that's just what I heard.  That's when Peepers arrived on the scene, blatherin' on 'bout something 'bout nothin', like she always does.

Be good you two.  Love another.  And if you can't love one another, leave each other alone.

Yeah, yeah, Peepers.  Can't you see I'm busy over here?  Rushy and I are havin' a discussion.

Yeah, that's what we'll call it: A discussion.

MOUSES!

Well next thing I knew, the fur was flyin' like only my fur can do.

Okay, so Rushy's was, too.

Then Peepers flew in like a bat outta hell, screechin' like a crazy ol' banshee.

Suddenly I was up in her arms, while Rushy sat there on the driveway glaring at me.  So I stuck my tongue out at him and gave him a hiss.  Of course, there was nothin' he could do 'bout that as Peepers was right there watchin' us.

And that, my friends, was that.

Until yesterday evenin'...

Picture it:  Me in my nightcap...

Sorry, wrong story.  MOUSES!

Picture it:  There I was lyin' on the family room floor under the pink chair - which to tell you the truth, kinda clashes with my orange fur, but so far, no matter how much I scratch that chair to death, the peeps haven't splurged on a better colour of upholstery.

But I digress.

So there I was, lyin' under the pink chair, when into the room waltzed Rushy.  Yup, Mr. Twinkle Toes himself.  Waltzin' and struttin', and struttin' and waltzin', and basically makin' a FOOL of himself.  I watched him closely, keepin' an eye on my foe, as he trotted toward Peepers as if he were in the know.  Then after gettin' some scritches from ol' Peepers, he dared to waltz over to me.

Okay, so he wasn't so much waltzin' over to me as he was attempting to waltz right past.  But it annoyed me, 'cause EVEN THOUGH I WAS RIGHT THERE, he was gonna waltz right past me like I didn't exist!

So I watched, and I waited, and I waited and watched, and then...

Just as he passed me...

I SMACKY-PAWED HIM IN THE REAR

Next thing I knew, the flyin' cryin' screamin' banshee was back.

Yeah, Peepers got up of the couch.

Then came the talk of apologies owed.  And I do admit, it WOULD be nice for Rushy to apologise, but for some strange reason, the peep appeared to be directin' her apology talk to me.

MOUSES!

But you know somethin', my friends?  Even though Peepers is a tad upset - goodness knows why - 'bout my smacky-pawin' Rushy as I did, I'm not the least bit sorry, at all.  Nope.  No sirree.  'Cause after the fur flying incident of the mornin', my smacky-pawin' had to be done.  Some cats like to get the last word in.  I, however, prefer to get the last smack in.  Besides, with all that long freaky fur of his, I bet Rushy never even felt a thing.

MOUSES!

woe is me

*sighs*

*sighs*

*SIGHS*

Oh hello there, my friends.  What's wrong, you ask?  Nothin'.

*sighs*

Okay, so maybe there is a little somethin' upsetting me today.  It's so observant of you to notice, and very kind of you to ask.

*sighs*

So it's like this, my friends.  It's like this:  I have a Dilemma.  A dilemma with a capital D.  A Dilemma of potentially catastrophic proportions, you see.

But...  But I don't wanna bother you with my problems.  I'm sure you have your own troubles to worry about.  I don't want to add my troubles to yours.

*SIGHS*

OH WOE IS ME!!!

Okay, if you insist.  If you ABSOLUTELY INSIST I tell you, I will.

*sighs*

So I was lookin' for my favourite nip mouse this mornin'.  You know, the nip mouse I keep hidden from Rushton in order to prevent freaky-long-hair-marmie-slobber contamination, when...

Oh my mouses, I don't know if I can continue.  My paws are shaking even as I think about what happened.

BUT DON'T YOU BE GOIN' ANYWHERE!

Oh, you weren't about to get up and leave the room?  Sorry 'bout that.  This is the part of my story when the peep usually gets up and leaves the room, but then, she IS just a peep.

MOUSES!

Okay, so like I was sayin', I was lookin' for my slobber-free favourite nip mouse this mornin'.  Now when I say I was lookin', I was REALLY LOOKIN'.   I looked practically everywhere!  All my usual hiding spots and everythin'.  I have quite a few, you know.  It's wise to have at least two hiding spots in every room; one really good spot, and then a back-up, in case the good spot is discovered by other cats or peeps.

But I digress.  The point is, I looked in every single one of my hiding spots in every single room for my favourite nip mouse, but do you know what?  My favourite mousie was nowhere to be found!

Of course, I immediately jumped onto the kitchen counter to call 9-1-1, as any concerned kitty would do.

But the peep, bein' a peep, put paid to that.  Apparently, missing nip mice aren't police emergencies, she says.

MOUSES!

Well after the ensuing heated discussion between the peep and I about what does and what does not constitute a police emergency...

And after the peep calmed down...

Yeah, yeah, I probably shouldn't have told her, her mornin' hairdo would qualify as one.  A police emergency, I mean.  And maybe I shouldn't have brought up her recent attempt to LITERALLY STARVE ME TO DEATH by making the ridiculous claim that after breakky - before lunch, mid-morning snacks are not supposed to be three-course meals...

CAN YOU BELIEVE HER NERVE?

MOUSES!

But again, I digress.

So anyway, after bein' prevented from callin' the police, I asked the peep if she had perhaps seen my favourite freaky-long-hair-marmie-slobber-FREE nip mouse, lying about.

Not that it would be lyin' about just anywhere.  It would have been in one of my hidin' spots, of course, but the possibility did exist ol' Peepers might have stumbled upon one of those spots in her travels...

Travels...  Attempts to tidy...  WHATEVER.

MOUSES!

Well just as the peep and I were gettin' into another heated discussion; this one 'bout her lack of tidying skills...

Into...

INTO...

INTO THE ROOM WALKED RUSHY.

WITH MY FAVOURITE - previously slobber free, but now obviously contaminated -  NIP MOUSE IN HIS MOUTH!

THE HORROR!!!

MOUSES!

And in related news:  I, Seville the Cat, am in desperate need of a new nip mouse.

And that is my Dilemma, you see.

*SIGHS*

built-in straight jacket

It's not fair, I tell you.  It's not fair!

PEEPERS!  IT ISN'T FAIR!!!

*sighs*

I'm tellin' ya, it's simply not fair.

*sighs again, this time louder*

Peepers, it's like this.  Yesterday...

I think it was yesterday, but on the other paw, it could have been the day before.  On the OTHER paw - after all, I do have four paws - it could have been both yesterday and the day before.  Or...

Yeah, yeah...  I'm gettin' to my point.  Hold on to your horses there, Peepers.

MOUSES!

So it's like this.  One day in the recent past...

Yeah, that sounds good.

One day in recent past, Rushy came after me like a bat out of double hockey sticks, and...

What?

Oh, that.

To tell you the truth, my bats out of h e double hockey sticks comment did sound better in my head before I actually said it out loud.

MOUSES!

But anyway, the other day, Rushy came after me out on the deck, and he cornered me over there in that corner.  See the corner over there?  You know, that corner.  That corner out on the deck.  And then...

Well that's when you intervened, Peepers.  And by the way, thanks for doin' that.  I appreciate it a lot.

MOUSES!

But back to this business that isn't fair.

The thing is...

The thing is, I can't fight back.  Rushy KNOWS he has an advantage.  He knows he has an advantage and he takes full advantage of it, too.

He knows...

I'M GETTIN' TO THAT!

For mousin' out loud, woman.  Have some patience.

MOUSES!

The thing is, Rushy knows that I know that if he takes a swipe at me, it's gonna hurt.  Been there; done that; all I need now is the t-shirt.

MOUSES!

But Rushy also knows that I know that if I take a swipe at him, all I get is a paw full of fur.  You know, on account of that freakishly thick coat of his.  He doesn't feel my swiping at him one bit!

Seriously, it's like he's wearin' a built-in straight jacket or somethin', and...

What's that, Peepers?  What did you say?

No...  No.  Nope, straight jacket is what I meant to say, for sure.

If the paw fits....

MOUSES!

So the thing is, due to my luxurious but PERFECTLY NORMAL thickness of fur, I'm at an unfair advantage when it comes to that Rushy, so I was thinkin'...

I was thinkin'....

Peepers, I was thinkin', how do you feel 'bout shavin' off all of Rushy's fur?

What?

WHY NOT?

Gosh darn it, IT JUST ISN'T FAIR.

MOUSES!

stuck on his butt

Bwahahahahaha!

Bwahahahahaha!!

BWHAHAHAHAHA!!!

Excuse me, my friends, while I guffaw a little more.

Oh my mouses!  GUFFAW!  That's a mousin' funny word, for sure.

BWHAHAHAHAHA!!!

Oh my gosh, usin' the word guffaw to describe my laughter, made me laugh even more.

MOUSES!

Hmmm...  Now what was I laughin' about again?

Oh yeah.  Rushy.

MOUSES!

Hey Rushy!  You've got a leaf stuck on your butt!

MOUSES!

You should have seen it, my friends.  There was my brother Rushton, struttin' down the path leadin' to the back door, tail held up high - practically pointin' to the sky - on account of his bein' a pretty confident cat, I suppose.

Even if he is a long-haired marmie freak.

But you can't win 'em all, I guess.  I mean, not EVERY cat can look like me.

MOUSES!

So anyway, there he was, struttin' down the path, when I happened to notice...

Now I should explain somethin', here.  It's not like I spend my days lookin' at other cats' butts.  I DON'T!  But in this case, what I was seein' was too difficult to not notice.

I mean...

Well there it was, right there in my face.

Not RIGHT in my face, of course.  There were a good few feet between Rushy's butt and my face.  That kinda goes without sayin'.

AND THANK GOODNESS FOR THAT.

MOUSES!

But nevertheless, I couldn't help but notice...

Right there...

Stuck on his butt....

Was a leaf the size of Australia.

MOUSES!

Oh my gosh, it was funny.  Made me laugh and laugh and laugh.

Then laugh again, some more.

It even made me guffaw.

MOUSES!

I'm tellin' ya, if I were a coffee-drinkin' cat - which I'm not, on account of coffee bein' very bad for cats.  BUT IF I WERE a coffee-drinkin' cat, and had I been takin' a sip of coffee right there when I saw what I saw...

I WOULD HAVE SNORTED THAT COFFEE RIGHT OUTTA MY NOSE.

MOUSES!

Yup, it was that funny a sight.

So funny, in fact...

So funny I can't even write 'bout anythin' else 'til I get all this laughin' and guffawin' out of my system, so that I can think about somethin' else.

HEY RUSHY!  YOU STILL HAVE A LEAF STUCK ON YOUR BUTT!

HEY RUSHY!  IS THAT LEAF SOME KINDA PRIVACY SCREEN, OR A NEW KINDA BIKINI?

HEY RUSHY!  DID YOU SIT IN A PILE OF LEAVES, OR DID MOTHER NATURE JUST SLAP A BIG ONE THERE, RIGHT ONTO YOUR BUTT?

MOUSES!

BWAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!

Oh my gosh, my friends, you should see it.  And you still CAN see it, in fact, 'cause that ol' leaf is STILL stuck on Rushton's butt.

MOUSES!

Hey Peepers!  Come see this.  Funniest thing ever.  You're gonna laugh so hard you'll snort that coffee you're drinkin', right outta your nose.  I can practically guarantee it.

MOUSES!

atten... SHUN!

"Mason?"

"Here."

"Rushton?"

"Here."

"Andy?"

"ANDY?"

"ANDY?"

"Sorry," he yawned.  "Yeah, I'm here."

I gave Andy the ol' stink eye on account of his takin' so long to answer me, then went back to the business at paw.

"Okay, so now that I have everyone's attention - FINALLY - I'm lookin' for a volunteer."

*silence*

"Anyone?"

"ANYONE?"

"ANYONE?"

*silence, once more*

"Oh for mousin' out loud, will NO ONE volunteer?"

"Uh..."  Andy drew a circle in the dirt with his paw.  "A volunteer for what, Seville?  Treats?  Are you wanting a volunteer treat taste tester or something similar?  Because if you do, I'll definitely volunteer for that," and my long-haired freak of a brother smiled from ear to ear.

"For the love of mouses.  No, Andy, I'm not lookin' for volunteer treat taste testers.  Unless...  Hmmm...  Unless you want to taste...."

"I'LL VOLUNTEER FOR THAT!" and my other long-haired freaky brother, Rushton, raised a paw.

"It's not a treat taste-testin' mission, I informed the freaks.  It's a mission requiring speed and stealth and..."

"OUT WITH IT!" Mason cried.  "Seville, I haven't got all day here, you know.  The Crow Show is starting in less than an hour.

"FINE."  I crossed my front paws and scowled at my fur-sibs.  "Okay, I need a volunteer to go into the garage and catch the enemy within."

My fur-sibs just stared at me, clearly not comprehendin' the task at paw.

"THERE'S A MOUSE IN THE HOUSE!" I yelled.  "I mean, there's a mouse in the garage.  Peep #1 spotted it this morning."

Mason pulled a pen and notebook out from underneath her...  butt.  "Describe this mouse, please.  Any identifying markings or characteristics?"

I stared at my sister, tryin' to figure out just where she had been hidin' that notebook and pen.  "It's a mouse, Sis.  A mouse.  Looks like a mouse, squeaks like a mouse, drops you-know-whats like a mouse.  It's a mouse."

"A mouse," my sister wrote down in her notebook.  "A run of the mill, ordinary mouse, with no identifying markings or characteristics."

"Like I said," I scowled.  "IT'S A MOUSE."

"And it's in the garage?" Mason asked.

I narrowed my eyes.  "LIKE I SAID BEFORE, yes, it's in the garage.  Spotted there 'bout eight o'clock this mornin', I believe."

Mason looked up from the notebook in which she was writing.  "Spotted by the peep?" she asked.

"YES.  YES!  Spotted in the garage by Peep #1.  JUST LIKE I SAID.  MOUSES!"

My sister wrote, "One witness: Peep #1," in her notebook, before slowly returnin' it, and her pencil, back under her...  butt.

"So...  Anyone wantin' to volunteer?"

"To do what?" asked Andy.  "To taste-test the mouse?"

I buried my head in my paws and took a moment to pull myself together before answerin'.  "NO TASTE-TESTIN' IS REQUIRED!" I hollered.  Calming down, I continued.  "I need a volunteer to go into the garage and catch that ol' mouse."

"So the mouse is old," Mason said, pullin' out her notebook and pencil once more.  "Exactly how old is the mouse?"

I bit my lower lip and growled, "I have no idea how old the mouse is.  The peep did not ask him."

"It's a male mouse, then," and Mason added that to her notes.

"OR HER.  The peep didn't specify," I told my sister.

"And how, exactly, are we to find this mouse, when given such a poor description?" Mason asked.

"BECAUSE IT'S THE ONLY MOUSE IN THE HOUSE!" I yelled.  "I mean, garage.  IT'S THE ONLY MOUSE IN THE GARAGE.  Male, female.  Big, little.  Old, young.  I DON'T CARE!  There's only one mouse hidin' in there, and that mouse is the one I need someone to find.  And catch!  And take out of the garage."

Rushy raised a paw.  "Yes, Rushton?  You have a question?" I asked.

"How did the mouse get inside the garage?"

"That I can answer," I replied.  "The peep, bein' a peep, went and left the garage door open all day yesterday."

"Ahhh..." my three fur-sibs said in unison, noddin' their heads, knowingly.

"Why?" asked Andy.

"Why what?" I asked him.

"Why did she do that?" he answered.

"Because she's a peep," I replied.

"AHHH..." and my three fur-sibs nodded their heads knowingly, once more.

"So..." I began.  "So which one of you is gonna volunteer?"

Everyone looked at each other.

No one volunteered.

"SO WHICH ONE OF YOU IS GONNA VOLUNTEER?" I asked once more.

*silence*

Finally, Mason spoke up.  "Might I make a suggestion?" she mewed.  "I suggest that Peep #1 should go into the garage and catch that mouse, herself.  After all, she IS the one who left the door open in the first place.  She, and only she, is responsible for that mouse."

My long-haired freaky brothers both nodded in agreement.

I thought about what my sister was suggestin'.  I thought about it long and hard.  For at least a full forty-two seconds.  "WORKS WELL FOR ME!" I cried aloud, smackin' my front paws together.  "Peep #1 shall be responsible for catchin' the perpetratin' mouse and puttin' him - or her - back outside."

My fur-sibs smiled with satisfaction.

"You think the peep is a good mouser?" Anderson asked.

"Probably not," I sighed.  "After all, she is MERELY a peep.  MOUSES!"

the enforcer

He thinks he's the enforcer.

He thinks HE'S the enforcer.

HA!

Everyone who knows ANYTHIN', knows I'M the enforcer 'round here.

MOUSES!

I'm tellin' ya, that long-haired marmie freak of a brother of mine, Andy, had best be rethinkin' what he has been thinkin', and he had best start rethinkin' his thinkin', RIGHT NOW.

MOUSES!

So this mornin', Peep #1 put her stupid little lettuce plants and stuff outside, to get some sun.

And DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED 'bout the fact she's growin' stupid lettuce plants in the first place, and not nip.  Of course, she CAN'T grow the nip.  This, my friends, is a known fact, so I guess she has to settle for stupid plants like lettuce and stuff.  Well it's HER loss, not mine, as I'm currently growin' MY VERY OWN NIP PLANTS all by MY VERY OWN SELF, but further details 'bout that endeavour will have to wait to be reported in another blog post, another day.  MOUSES!

Anyway, before I digress even further, bottom line is, the peep put her plants outside.

You know, the stupid ones.

To get some sun.

MOUSES!

Well the next thing she knew, Andy was out there, sniffin' around those plants.

Now had Andy been out there sniffin' around MY NIP PLANTS, it would have been cause for concern, but Andy, bein' Andy, was sniffin' around the lettuces.

Like a cat wants anythin' to do with lettuce.

MOUSES!

Well the peep was out there in a shot, tellin' Andy off for sniffing 'round her plants.  Why she was so concerned, I have no idea.  Like I said before, it's not like he was sniffing 'round plants of importance.  Important plants like my nip.  Now THAT would have been a travesty, for sure.

Andy, BEIN' ANDY, just looked up at her and said, "Wha?"

MOUSES!

Now before anyone twists their knickers into knots, lettuce is perfectly harmless to cats.

But back to my story.

I mean, REPORTIN'.

MOUSES!

So Andy grumbled, and he mumbled, then headed back into the house.

So anyway...

So anyway, a little while later, Peep #1 spotted Rushy outside, nosin' around those stupid ol' lettuce plants.  Up like a flash she was, headin' out to save her precious little stupidy dupidy plants.

Again, I have no idea why she was even botherin'.  I mean, IT'S NOT LIKE they were important.  It's not like they were nip, or somethin' wonderful like that.

What am I sayin'?  NOTHIN' is wonderful like nip.

MOUSES!

But before the peep could even get to Rushy, Andy was right there.  Like he had lurkin' about in hiding, somewhere.

Yeah, that's right.  Andy.  Andy, the very same cat who half an hour earlier, had been nosin' around those very same plants.

MOUSES!

"Take that!" Andy cried.  "TAKE THAT!"  And he swung at Rushy with his right, then his left - missin' the target, BOTH times - but nevertheless...

Then Rushy was down on his side, gettin' ready to bunnykick his long-haired freak of a brother.

Which, of course, made Andy think he had won.

But just at that moment, the peep arrived on the scene.  She scooped Rushy up into her arms and scolded Andy for bein' so mean.

"But I was...  But...  BUT..."

"He said BUTT!" I laughed from inside.  "THE LONG-HAIRED MARMIE BUTT-HEAD SAID BUTT!  BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"

"ENOUGH!" the peep cried.  "Andy, don't be so mean to your brother.  Rushy, you come inside.  AND SEVILLE...."

"What?  What did I do?" I asked, truly perplexed.

The peep scowled.

"WHAT?"

And the peep scowled even more.

"You keep scowlin' like that, Peepers, and that face is gonna stick," I warned.  "And if you don't believe me, have you SEEN the guy at the end of the street?  Yeah, I know.  Not a pretty sight.  Not pretty at all.  That thing on his face?  That's a Permascowl.  It's just like permafreeze.  Or frost.  You know...  Whatever.  Anyway, thing is, he scowled one time too many, and it stuck.  MOUSES!"

Then the peep's scowl turned into a questioning look as she asked, "What are you talking about, Seville?"

"Stuff."

"But lookie here," I continued, "that brother of mine - ANDY - is thinkin' he's the enforcer, in this here house.  He's thinkin' that HE'S the one layin' down the law.  That HE'S the one who should be punishin' Rushy for doin' the same thing you had scolded him for doin', just moments before.  And that, dear peep, must come to a stop.  MOUSES!"

The peep's face went blank.

"Yeah, that blank stare is a good one for you.  You won't get wrinkles like that, UNLIKE when you scowl.  But anyway, the thing is, I need you to explain to Andy how I'M the enforcer in this here house."

No response from the peep.

"Did you hear what I said, Peepers?  DID YOU HEAR WHAT I SAID?"

Again, no response.

And just at that moment - that VERY moment, my friends - my sister, Mason, arrived on the scene.  "Someone call for The Enforcer?" she asked.  "I.  AM.  HERE."

MOUSES!

fake news!

"Rushton, keep your whirrin' to yourself, would ya?  I'm tryin' to get my early mid-mornin' nap in BEFORE it's time for my late mid-mornin' nap.  Okay?"

"But Seville, I'm hungry.  I'm starving!  I haven't eaten in days."

I looked my brother up and down, makin' note of his girth.  "Uh...  Yeah.  The peep gave you breakfast, not all that long ago.  I saw her doin' it, and everythin'."

"Breakfast?  Today?  No, that can't be true.  It has been ages and ages since I've had anything to eat.  I'm pretty sure the peeps are slowly starving us to death, Sivvers.  I'm pretty sure I heard it on the news."

"Hmmm...  I don't think you can starve to death in forty-five minutes, Rushy.  MOUSES!"

"Seville, it has been WAY LONGER than forty-five minutes since I last ate."

"Forty-SIX minutes, then?  MOUSES!"

Rushy looked down at the floor.  Liftin' one paw, he started to count his claws.  Realizin' he didn't have enough claws to count all the way up to forty-six, he gave up.  "That's FAKE NEWS, that is.  FAKE NEWS!" he cried, stampin' a paw for emphasis.

"What's fake news?  That you had brekkies only forty-six minutes ago?"

"Yeah, that.  NO!  No...  Um, wait a minute.  I know!  My havin' had brekkies today is what's fake news.  I'm telling you, Sivvers, the peep is STARVIN' US CATS TO DEATH!"

I gave my brother a good eye roll and shook my head.  "Your sayin' the peep is starvin' us, is what's fake news, brother dear.  The peep gave you brekkies less than an hour ago, and I should know, on account of her givin' me my brekkies at the very same time.  We sat there in the kitchen, eatin' our brekkies together!  MOUSES!"

My brother screwed up his face in deep thought.

"Rushy, you keep screwin' your face up like that, and it's gonna stick.  MOUSES!"

He narrowed his eyes and looked me up and down before sayin', "Is that what happened to you?"

"You take that back, Rushy.  My face is as handsome as handsome can be.  EVERYONE says so, so it must be true.  Besides, you're just deflectin'."

"Deflectin'?  Is that like when the air escapes from a balloon?"

"Oh for the love of mouses."  I let out a big sigh.  "Rushy, you're tryin' to make me forget you had your brekkies not that long ago, but you did, so therefore, you can't possibly be starvin'."

"FAKE NEWS!"

"You're goin' on about this fake news stuff again?  Mouses Rushy, you keep talkin' like that and the police are gonna come take us all away from the peeps and make us live in a household with a bunch of dogs or somethin'."

"They are?"

"Or worse," and I solemnly nodded.

Rushy's eyes grew as big as flyin' saucers.

I lowered my voice and asked, "You ever live with a family of weasels, Rushy?"

"But.."

"But nothin'.  Peep #1 fed you when she fed me, LESS THAN AN HOUR AGO, and your tellin' the world she hasn't fed you in days is gonna cause nothin' but trouble.  NOTHIN' BUT TROUBLE, I say!  It's gonna cause nothin' but trouble for all of us cats, for sure.  MOUSES!"

"It is?"

"Oh, most definitely so.  Sometimes I really wonder 'bout you, mon frere."

"You do?"

"I do," I told him.  "Hate to admit it, but yeah, I do."

"And do you worry about me, too?"

"On occasion, I suppose.  I mean, long-haired and freaky you might be, but you're still my brother, although how that ever happened I will never know."

Rushy looked thoughtful for a moment.  "Do you love me, Sivvers?" he asked.

I thought 'bout Rushy's question for a bit.  "Hmmm...  I guess so.  But don't go tellin' anyone that, okay?  Let's keep it between ourselves.  I don't need stuff like that going 'round the neighbourhood."

Rushy nodded his agreement before breaking into a wide smile, and then...  Then he started runnin' around the kitchen yellin', "Seville loves me!  SEVILLE LOVES ME!  SEVILLE LOVES ME LIKE BROTHERS DO!"

"Shh!  I told you to keep that between you and me!"

Rushy ignored me, as he usually does, and tore out of the room, continuing to yell 'bout my lovin' my brother to anyone and everyone who would listen.

"Oh for the love of mouses."  Letting out a big sigh, I ran after my brother, yellin', "That's not true, Peepers!  Don't listen to him!  He's fibbin' like no long-haired marmie freak of a brother of mine has ever fibbed before!  Rushy is spreadin' the FAKE NEWS, for sure.  MOUSES!"

the pawdicure

What did she THINK was gonna happen?  Did she really believe we were all gonna line up, hold out our paws, and allow her to give us all pawdicures?

Huh.  Apparently, she did.

OBVIOUSLY, the woman is nuts.

MOUSES!

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

He is?

He did?

MOUSES!

CLEARLY, Peepers, that doesn't count.

Uh....  'Cause I said so?

Yeah, I didn't think that was the answer you were wantin' to hear, even if it was - OBVIOUSLY - the correct answer for me to give.

Okay, just for you, Peepers, just because you're havin' difficulty understandin', I shall elaborate.  It's like this:  Rushy allowin' you to give him a pawdicure, doesn't count on account of the reasons behind his doin' so.

Aren't they obvious?  The reasons, I mean.  Are the reasons not obvious to you?

Oh my mouses, I have to explain EVERYTHIN' to the peep.

Lookie here, Peepers, I know, and YOU SHOULD know, the only reason Rushton allowed you to give him a pawdicure, was to make the rest of us cats look bad.

MOUSES!

It was too.

It was.

TOO!

MOUSES!

Peepers, do you think that long-haired marmie freak of a brother of mine actually wanted you to clip his claws?  OF COURSE NOT.  None of us cats want you to be messin' with our paws or our claws.  Our claws are not to be messed with, for sure.

MOUSES!

Because.

Because is too an answer.

Oh yes it is.

'Cause you asked me a question, and I answered it with BECAUSE.  That's why.

I'm tellin' ya, the woman knows less than nothin', minus a whole whack of somethings.  MOUSES!

But back to the topic at paw.  The topic of Rushton's paws, that is.

Peepers, Rushy only let you clip his claws 'cause he knew I didn't let you clip mine, and that Mason gave you a hard time with hers, and Andy threatened to smacky-paw you, even though it wasn't much of a threat to be honest, on account of his tryin' to squeeze under the chesterfield to hide, while simultaneously makin' said so-called threat.

And by the way Peepers, in case you hadn't noticed, Andy doesn't fit under the chesterfield, at all.

You knew that, did you?  Huh.  I just thought I'd mention it on account of your not knowing 'bout so many other things.

MOUSES!

How did I know, you ask?

Well...

Well I looked over at Andy hidin' - or attemptin' to hide, that is - and saw that the only part of Andy that was actually hidden was his head.  The rest of him was stickin' out all over the place.

MOUSES!

But never mind that, Peepers.  Fact is, Rushton DELIBERATELY pawed over his paws, allowin' you to clip his claws, KNOWIN' FULL WELL that none of us other cats had done the same, and that, Ol' Peepers, was nothin' more than an attempt to make the rest of us look bad.

And let me tell you somethin' else, Peepers.  Have you forgotten WHY you went on your little rabid pawdicure quest in the first place?  Huh?  HUH?  WELL HAVE YA?

Just as I thought.

MOUSES!

Might I remind you, Peepers, that this mornin', moments prior to your little rabid rampage, you were combin' Rushy's freakishly long fur, and...

AND Rushy decided he wanted to play with the comb, and...

AND he reached out a paw, with an unsheathed claw, and...

AND GOT YOU IN THE FINGER, FOR SURE.  MOUSES!

Yeah, that's what sent you off on your little EVERYONE-NEEDS-A-PAWDICURE-TODAY-WHETHER-THEY-NEED-IT-OR-NOT-AND-BY-TODAY-I-MEAN-RIGHT-NOW hysterics.

REMEMBER?


So basically, Peepers, you fell right into his trap.  BASICALLY, he played you for the fool that you are.  BASICALLY...

Well long story, short:  Long-haired marmie freak brother draws blood with one claw, gets EVERYONE ELSE into trouble, and comes out smellin' like a pair of mister goody two shoes stuffed with stinky feet scented Valerian Root and roses.

And might I remind you, Peepers, that brother of mine doesn't even WEAR shoes.

MOUSES!

right in the keister

So there I was sittin' in the kitchen, waitin' for some treats, when...

When I happened to see my brother, Rushton, walkin' past my other brother, Andy.

MOUSES!

I know, I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin', what's the big deal about that?

Well...

Well for starters, when Rushton walked past Andy, Andy gave him a smacky paw, right in the keister.

MOUSES!

Now seriously folks, I wouldn't be puttin' my paws anywhere near that long-haired marmie freak of a brother of mine's keister, for one never really knows where his keister may have recently been.

MOUSES!

But Andy, bein' Andy, can't resist smacky-pawin' anyone as they walk past.  Sometimes he gets you in the leg.  Sometimes the side.  And SOMETIMES, the keister.

MOUSES!

Well the next thing was, Rushy was rushin' over to me, complainin' about Andy.  "Did you see that?  Did you see what he did?  Did you see..."

I held up a paw in protest.  In protest of my havin' to listen to his complaints, that is.  "I, Seville the Cat, saw exactly what Anderson did," I told him.  "But to tell you the truth, Rushy, what one long-haired marmie freak of a brother does to another long-haired marmie freak of a brother, is of no interest to me.  MOUSES!"

"But, but, but..." Rushy began.

"But he got you in the BUTT, for sure," and I rolled on the floor, laughin'.

Seein' a pout beginnin' to form on my brother Rushton's face, I added, "But seriously, Rushy, it's not like you don't have protective paddin'.  Andy couldn't have hurt you.  I'm surprised you felt it at all.  MOUSES!"

'Is that some kind of fat joke?" Rushton asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Not at all, mon frere.  I am simply statin' the truth.  You have...  Well...  Well you have ample paddin', to be sure.  MOUSES!"

"Peep #1 says I'm just big boned," said Rushy, stampin' a paw.  "Plus, I do have a whole lot of floof."

I shook my head in dismay.  "Rushy, Rushy, Rushy...  You weigh in at twenty pounds.  There's no way that can all be accounted for by floof.  MOUSES!"

Rushton sat on his butt - or should I say, keister - and gave me the look a two-year-old child gives his mother immediately prior to startin' a tantrum.  "Don't complain to me," I told my long-haired marmie freak of a brother.  "Not my fault Andy can't keep his paws to himself.  Had I walked past him, he woulda smacky-pawed me in the keister, too.  MOUSES!"





Rushton looked slightly cheered up by my little pep talk, so I continued.

"Of course, I woulda felt it more, for my keister isn't as well padded as yours.  MOUSES!"

Well that did it.  No sooner had I uttered that last statement, Rushy was up and about, threatenin' to smacky-paw ME!"

"Don't you get any ideas, you long-haired marmie freak of a brother of mine.  I'm not the one who smacked you in the butt.  You wanna get back at someone for that, you need to get back at the smacky-pawer himself, and that, mon bizarre confiture frere, would be Andy.   MOUSES!"

Rushton sat back down for a moment, and mulled over what I had said.

Twenty. Minutes. Later...

Twenty minutes later, he had figured it out.  "You're absolutely right, Seville.  If I wanna get back at Andy for smackin' me, I need to deal with Andy himself."

"You got that right."

"I most certainly do!  And do you know what I'm gonna do about it?" my brother asked.

Takin' a wild guess, I said, "Uh...  Go talk to Andy, perhaps?"

"That's an even BETTER idea than what I was thinkin'," and Rushton squealed with delight.

Goodness knows what Rushy's original idea had been.  MOUSES!

I looked at my brother, just sittin' there, not makin' a move.  "Well uh...  If you're gonna go talk to Andy, you're gonna have to get up off that butt of yours, and approach him."


"Good plan there, Sivvers," and Rushy was up and crossin' the room.

Now what happened next was not unexpected.  Certainly not surprisin', in the least.

Rushton decided it would be best for him to talk to Andy, face to face, I suppose.  And as Andy had his back to Rushy, Rushy walked past him, plannin' to spin 'round in order to talk, but...

But just as Rushy walked past...

Andy smacky-pawed him right in the keister.

MOUSES!

for the love of mouses

Oh for the love of mouses.

No, seriously. SERIOUSLY.  It's not just an expression you know. My brother Rushton sure does love his mouses.

MOUSES!

As you may or may not have guessed, Rushy caught himself a mouse this mornin'.

The peep, bein' a peep, was not amused.

On the other paw, Andy was.

That's right, Andy was right in there, stickin' his nose where his nose didn't belong, tryin' to see what Rushy had caught.  And then, with great amusement, those two long-haired marmie freak brothers of mine, just sat there, lookin' at the wee mouse lyin' on the ground.

Of course, Peep #1 was right in there too, checkin' out what Rushy had caught; but as I said earlier, SHE was not amused.

MOUSES!

The other day, Tess caught a chippy.

Actually, she caught two.

Or maybe it was the same one, caught twice.  As chippies don't go around wearin' name tags, we'll really never know.  MOUSES!

Remember?  Remember way back when, when Nissy used to do that?

Catch chippies, I mean.  Nissy never wore a name tag and if he did, he didn't tell me, so I can't report about that.

Anyway...

So anyway, the other day, Tess came trottin' down the driveway with a chippy danglin' from her mouth. Well Peep #1 spotted her immediately, and was up and outside within minutes, encouraging Tess to let the chippy go.

And when I say encouragin', I REALLY mean that the peep beeped the car horn, which made Tess leap at least a foot into the air as she was walkin' right past the car at the time of the beepin' horn.  Once back on the ground, she spun 'round to face that ol' car, lifted a paw and shook it.  "YOU CRAZY DRIVER!" she yelled.  And that, my friends, was about when the chippy fell out of Tess' mouth, before scamperin' away.

Of course, the peep wasn't even in the car at the time, and the car wasn't even movin', so therefore, technically, there was no driver to yell at.   Realizin' this, Tess yelled again.  "CRAZY NON-EXISTENT DRIVER!" she cried, but by then, the chippy had managed his escape.

The peep, bein' a peep, tried to stifle a laugh but Tess spotted her smirkin', which caused her to stomp down the rest of the driveway, growlin' all the way.

Tess, I mean.  Not the peep.  MOUSES!

Then about half an hour later, it happened all over again.

And believe-you-me, the second time the peep beeped the car horn at Tess, Tess was wild with fury.  "YOU STUPID PEEP, BEEPING YOUR BEEPING HORN AT ME WHEN YOU'RE NOT EVEN IN THE BEEPIN' CAR!" she yelled.  "LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE.  YOU'VE MADE ME LOSE MY CHIPPY!  AGAIN!"

Talk about road rage.

I never even knew one could even have road rage on a driveway.  You know, without bein' on a road.

This, my friends, is one of the reasons Tess can't get her driver's licence.

That and the fact she can't reach the gas pedal and see out the window at the same time, on account of her bein'...  You know...  A cat.  MOUSES!

Of course, Tess is known for bein' enraged.  Why once, just the other day in fact, she was caught growlin' at herself.

No, seriously.  SERIOUSLY.  She really, really was.  She was the only one in the room at the time, and she was growlin' like no other kitty growls, so I'm figurin', Tess was growlin' at none other than..  Well...  Tess.

Some peeps talk to themselves, so I suppose it's reasonable to assume a cat might growl to herself.

Especially if the cat in question happens to be Tess.

Tess does enjoy growlin'.

And she does it really well.

MOUSES!