not again

Not again, I say.  I SAY, NOT AGAIN!

Oh for the love of mouses...

MOUSES!

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

I say...

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

MOUSES!

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

And I suppose you could be right.

The thing is, though...

The thing is...

The thing is, Saffy just went outside.

'Bout five minutes ago.

Give or take a few seconds.

MOUSES!

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

MOUSES!

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

MOUSES!

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

But the thing is...

The thing is...

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

WHICH WAS THE LAST TIME HE CAME BACK INSIDE.

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

And fifteen minutes before that?

Well, you get the picture, I am sure.

MOUSES!

Oh good.  Peepers has let my brother back in.

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

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

*munch, munch, crunch, crunch*

*BURP!*

*ahhh...*

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

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

For another helpin' of treats.

Like the twenty other times already, today.

MOUSES!

we'll gather at dawn

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

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

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

That.

THAT!

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

MOUSES!

Peepers, are you even listenin' to me?

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

Should have known by the snorin'.

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, she might not have been asleep.

SHE MIGHT HAVE BEEN IGNORIN' ME.

So rude.

MOUSES!

So anyway...

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

Or is it a horde...

Huh, probably both.

MOUSES!

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

Not to mention me.

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

IMAGINE!

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

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

MOUSES!

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

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

Which is why...

Which is why...

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

And once it's unravelled...

Once it's unravelled...

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

MAKIN' SPACE FOR MY ANNUAL HARVEST OF NIP.

*purrs*

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

MOUSES!

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

Well, have a ball!

Pun intended.

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

Best. Plan, EVER, for sure.

And when we're all done...

When we're all done...

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

Every. Single. One.

MOUSES!

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!

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!

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!

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!

climb every mountain

Peepers!

Peepers!

HEY!  PEEPERS!!!  Get your sorry tail over here.

Please.

'Cause I'm nothin' if not polite.

MOUSES!

Peepers, just what the mouses are Saffy and I expected to with that?

That.

THAT.

Yeah, that.  That mountain of freshly-laundered laundry.  That.

MOUSES!

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

You want us to WHAT?

Of all the crazy, moused-up, mousin' things to suggest.

You been into the nip, there, ol' peep of mine?  The human nip, I mean.  You been drinkin' Crown Royal on the job, or somethin' like that?

Well I beg to differ, Peepers-be-jeepers.  The suggestion that Saffron and I should leave a mountain of freshly-laundered laundry alone has got to be the craziest, most moused-up, mousin' suggestion you've ever made.  And it's not like you've never come up with a stupid suggestion or two before.  It's just that THIS suggestion has got to be the most stupid, for sure.

MOUSES!

'Cause cats are drawn to piles of freshly-laundered laundry like cheese curds and gravy to fries, or Quebec maple syrup to Nova Scotian wild blueberry pancakes, or moths to a flame, or...  Or..  OR CATNIP TO A CHEESE CRACKER!  Nothin', and I do mean NOTHIN' - 'cept maybe the nip on a cracker thing - is as attractive to a cat than a mountain of freshly-laundered laundry.

NOTHIN'!

Peepers, the pile is like twenty-five thousand paws high.  How the mouses are we cats supposed to get up there?  Neither Saffy nor I can jump that high.  We could climb, I suppose, but the risk of it all fallin' down on top of us is...

On the other paw...

But on the other paw, if we were to climb up that mountain of freshly-laundered laundry, and said mountain were to fall down...

Well, then we'd have a much more reasonable vertically-challengin' pile of freshly-laundered laundry upon which to spend an afternoon snoozin'.

And nicely spread out, too.  Kinda like a king-sized bed for us cats.

Don't know why I didn't think about that before.

MOUSES!

don't do it

Don't do it, Saffy.  Don't do it!

I said, DON'T DO IT.

Gosh darn it, he went and did it, after all.

MOUSES!

Don't go lookin' all surprised and stuff that Peepers yelled at you, Saffy.  Besides, she didn't really yell.  It was actually more like a...

Umm...

Well...

Well, more like a squeal.  

Yeah, liked a high-pitched, piglet-like kinda squeal, indicatin' her experiencing some sorta sharp and sudden pain.

MOUSES!

Quit your gripin', woman.  I said, like.  Piglet-LIKE.  I didn't say...

Oh, never mind.

MOUSES!

And stop listenin' in on Saffron and my conversations.

MOUSES!

Saffy, Saffy, Saffy...

Saffy Saffron Sassifras...

It's not like I didn't warn you.

MOUSES!

What?

Hmmm....  Well that puts a whole different perspective on things.  I shall inform the peep, at once.

Yes, Peepers.  Yes.  Yes, I am now talkin' to you.  NOW.  Now, you may listen in.

MOUSES!

So it turns out, Peepers, Saffron didn't grab hold of your hand with his claws and go to bite you out of anger or annoyance or anythin' like that.  No, he actually did it out of love.

Don't give me that look, Peepers.  I'm just repeatin' what Saffy has said, and to tell you the truth, it makes total sense.

AGAIN, quit it with the stupid looks, there, Peepers.  You keep that up and your face is gonna stick like that, forever.  You'll end up lookin' like one of those peeps we see on the news, with perma-scowls glued onto their face.

And we wouldn't want that now, would we.

I'm not lookin' at a face like that, day in and day out.

MOUSES!

But back to what I was sayin', ol' peep of mine.  Saffy grabbed hold of your hand with his claws and went to bite you out of love.  He was treatin' your hand just like he treats his nip mice and biff bags and stuff.  And we all know how much he loves his toys filled with the nip.

If anythin', Peepers, you should take it as a complement of sorts.  And you should be grateful, too.  Extremely grateful, for sure.  Why, you should be grateful that...

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

Yes, GRATEFUL.  That is what I said.  You should be grateful that although Saffron loves you as much as he loves his biff bags, which is a lot, he still has the ability to show restraint and not turn his hind legs on that arm of yours, too.

'CAUSE WE ALL KNOW HOW DESTRUCTIVE THOSE HIND LEGS CAN BE.

Which reminds me, Peepers, there's some catnip spillage upstairs.  Catnip spillage, just outside the sewin' room.  Torn cotton fabric, frayed beyond repair.  Catnip pretty much everywhere.

You might wanna get that cleaned up before there's nip scattered through the rest of the  house.

MOUSES!

princess and the pea

You've heard of the princess and the pea, right?

Well...

Well, that would be me.

MOUSES!

Okay, so maybe not me.  For starters, I'd be a prince rather than a princess...

...if I weren't already a King.

MOUSES!

And it wasn't actually a pea.

NO, it wasn't PEE, either.

What kinda cat do you think I am?

MOUSES!

It was ACTUALLY a piece of my kibble.

MOUSES!

And I believe I already mentioned how it wasn't me.

It was ACTUALLY, the peep!

And no, she's not a princess, either.

I don't think.

MOUSES!

Perhaps I should start from the beginnin'.  Peepers was out and about doin' shoppin' and errands and stuff, when all of a sudden...

All of a sudden...

All of a sudden, one of her boots became awfully uncomfortable to wear.

MOUSES!

Yup, that's right.  That ol' boot was so uncomfortable, Peepers was tempted to sit down in the middle of the grocery store aisle and take off the questionable boot, and...

And then she thought, no, she didn't wanna hear over the loudspeaker, "CLEANUP IN AISLE THREE!"

Heeheeheehee...

MOUSES!

So instead, Peepers hobbled around in the grocery store for a bit, gatherin' up the stuff she was gatherin', paid for it all, and then went outside.

Where she sat down in the parkin' lot, and...

Nah, hearin' CLEANUP IN THE PARKIN' LOT! would be 'bout as bad as that ol' aisle three.

MOUSES!

So instead, Peepers hobbled out to the car, sat down inside it, and drove right back home.  But before bringin' the groceries into the house, the first thing she did was take off that offendin' ol' boot; and lo and behold...

Lo and behold...

Lo and behold, when turned upside down, out dropped a piece of cats' kibble.  Apparently, it had been wedged between her foot and the sole of the boot and that's why said boot had been so darned uncomfortable.

MOUSES!

Now where that piece of kibble came from, no one actually knows.  No one at all.  No one I know of knows anythin' about it!

'CAUSE THAT'S MY STORY AND I'M STICKIN' TO IT.

MOUSES!

gotcha day

Last week, we had a bit of a celebration.  Yup, we had a bit of a celebration, for sure.  January 7th was Saffron's Gotcha Day, you see.

MOUSES!

And all this Gotcha Day stuff got me to thinkin'.

And you all know what happens when I think.

Don't say it, Peepers.  Don't even THINK it.

MOUSES!

But anyway...

But anyway, what I was thinkin' was that Saffy's Gotcha Day might explain how he's gettin' a little...

Well...

Uh.

Umm.

Now how do I say this without bein' mean?

Hmmm...

Okay, so I won't actually SAY it.  I'll just happen to elude to his middle-age spread.

MOUSES!

 Yes, Saffy.  YES.  We call that middle-age spread.

What?

You are NOT ONLY three-years-old.

MOUSES!

No, Saffy.  NO.  Tuesday may have been your third Gotcha Day, but you did NOT turn three.  You're probably more like about um...  Seven.

MOUSES!

It's true!  Saffy, Peepers and I sat down and we figured it all out.  Three years ago, Tuesday, you came into the house.  That much is true.  But you'd been livin' outside, resistin' the peeps' attempts to get you inside, for a whole year-and-a-half, before that.  

So three plus one-and-a-half is FOUR-and-a-half.

Which, of course, is way more than three.

PLUS, when Peepers first saw you outside, you were already fully grown.  Like, FULLY grown.  Lengthwise and everythin'.  We think you were at least two.

So four-and-a-half plus two is SIX-and-a-half.

Way, way, way more than three.

And although possible, you probably WEREN'T born in July.  More likely spring.  So let's tack three or four months onto that.

Six-and-a-half years plus three or four months is umm...

Well, it's practically seven!

MOUSES!

Good grief, Saffy, my man, you're like really, REALLY old.  A senior, in fact.  You could probably get the seniors' discount at Shoppers!  And that silvery halo all over your charcoal grey fur, you're always braggin' about?  THAT'S PROBABLY JUST GREY HAIR.  If you were a peep, it would be needin' to be coloured.  And...

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

WHAT?

Oh yeah.

Hmmm....

MOUSES!

Okay, Saffron, so as explained to me by the peep, I'm technically older than you.

Way older, in fact.

SO THERE'LL BE NO MORE JOKIN' ABOUT ANYONE BEIN' OLD.

Even those who are developin' middle-age spread.

'Cause maybe it's just from bein' inside.  I mean, it's hard to climb trees when it's icy and cold.  And indoor zoomin' doesn't burn calories like front yard track events.

So we'll put aside all the gettin' older jokes.

And we'll have well-deserved Gotcha Day wishes, instead.

And maybe a cake.

'Cause everyone knows, Gotcha Day cake NEVER contributes to middle-age spread.

MOUSES!

I'm back!

Okay, so I wasn't actually gone.

I just took a day off, you see.

You know, on account of my regular postin' day bein' on Christmas, this year.

MOUSES!

Truth be told, I was plannin' on postin' the very next day instead of waiting until now, but...

But the thing is...

The thing is, the day after Christmas was Boxing Day, and...

Well...

Well Boxin' Day is important, too.

Boxing Day: the day of the box.

Did I happen to mention it involves boxes?

MOUSES!

But back to the business at paw.  I hope everyone had a great Christmas.  Everyone who celebrates Christmas, of course.  And for anyone who doesn't, I hope you had a good day, too.

And as for the ol' Boxing Day...

WHO THE MOUSES DOESN'T CELEBRATE THAT?

Again, did I happen to mention it involves boxes?

MOUSES!

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

WHAT?

Oh, for the love of mouses.

So apparently, accordin' to Peepers (if she is to be believed), Boxing Day ISN'T celebrated by EVERYONE, all around the world.  Really only in the UK, and a number of Commonwealth nations, such as Canada.

But it most definitely does involve the givin' of boxes to cats.

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

THE LEAST YOU CAN DO IS GIVE US CATS THE BOXES.

MOUSES!

So apparently, accordin' to Peepers (although I really don't think she is to be believed), the origins of Boxin' Day do not revolve around the givin' of boxes to cats.

Proof positive that Peepers is definitely NOT to be believed.

MOUSES!

But all that nonsense Peepers is spoutin' aside, Saffron and I spent most of Boxin' Day, this year, hangin' out in some really lovely boxes.

AS ANY SELF-RESPECTIN' CANADIAN KITTY WOULD.

MOUSES!

And word of warnin', as this comin' Wednesday is New Year's Day, I'll be takin' the day off then, as well.  First day of the year is a very important day for us kitties, you see.  It's the day when we start the year as we mean to go on, which involves assertin' ourselves as the true rulers of the world, and...

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

FINE.

Peepers says the best I can do is assert myself as the true ruler of my own kingdom: my house.

PEEPERS,THE LEAST YOU CAN DO IS GIVE ME ABSOLUTE CONTROL OF MY OWN HOUSE!

And as you can see, I'm gonna be pretty darned busy New Year's Day, catsplaining the way of the world to my peeps.

MOUSES!

And don't forget to spend some time on New Year's Eve or New Year's Day readin' about my adventure, way back when, when Nissy and I were summoned to London, England, to save the brinin' in of the New Year.  You can read all 'bout it in "Like Clockwork" by clickin' right here:  HERE

And in case we don't chat between now and January 1st...

May you all have a joyful and prosperous 2025.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

one of those days

You ever have one of those days...

One of those days, when...

Well, when you feel like you should be apologisin' for somethin' but you're not exactly sure what that somethin' might be?

Yeah, me neither.

'CAUSE AS A CAT, I DON'T NEED TO APOLOGISE TO ANYONE, YOU SEE. 

MOUSES! 

So I woke up this mornin' to Peepers givin' Saffy and me dirty looks.  Oh sure, she fed us and wished us a good mornin' and gave us both scritches on the backs of our heads, but there was also that look.

And I didn't appreciate said look, one bit.

MOUSES!

And for the nine lives of me, I have ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA what it is she thinks one of us did.

MOUSES!

Yeah, yeah, there was some kibble scattered all over the kitchen floor.  So I guess it might have been that.

Nah, the scatterin' of kibble is quite commonplace around here.  There's no need for dirty looks because of that.

And there was some stuff knocked off the ol' kitchen table.  Guess it MIGHT have been that.

Nah, that stuff was in Saffy's way.  I know that for a fact.  If Peepers didn't want said stuff knocked down, it shouldn't have been left on the table.

Oh, and then there was the compost bowl thingy found lyin' on the floor.

Nah, it COULDN'T have been that.  The bowl was completely empty, you see.  And anyway, do I look like a cat who would knock a bunch of compost onto the kitchen floor?

Okay, so maybe I do, but regardless, LIKE I SAID, the bowl was empty when it hit the floor.

All on its own.

Without ANY help.

Except for gravity, of course.

Besides, bowls shouldn't be left on counters so close to the edge.  That's just askin' for trouble, that is.  Peepers should really be more careful where she leaves things like that.

MOUSES!

But you know, EVEN THOUGH I CAN'T THINK OF A SINGLE THING that would cause Peepers to give Saffy and me dirty looks, I'm still feelin' this weird need to apologise.

And I'm not likin' that feelin', one bit.

Why, what if Santa were to hear 'bout this nasty affair and think that if I'm thinkin' I should be apologisin', maybe I should? 

You know what they say 'bout where there's smoke, there is fire, and all that stuff like that.

And what if, all because of Peepers' stupid dirty looks, Saffron and I land on Santa's Naughty List and get nothin' but lumps of coal instead of the nip?

Why, if somethin' like that were to happen, it would be Peepers who would need to be apologisin'.  Yup, it would be Peepers who should be apologisin' to ME.

And Saffy, I guess.

But mainly to me.

'Cause I have a reputation to uphold.

So really, that feelin' I've felt since this mornin' is probably just my catlike ability to read the emotions of others and empathise, and...

AND WHAT I'M REALLY FEELIN' IS PEEPERS' FEELIN' OF HER NEEDIN' TO APOLOGISE TO ME.

And now it all makes total sense, to be sure.

MOUSES!

Oh Peeeee-perrrrrrrrrrssssssssssss...

You have somethin' you need to be sayin' to me?

MOUSES!

play stupid games...

Not my fault.

I said, it's not my fault.

And I repeat myself once more: IT'S NOT MY FAULT.

MOUSES!

I know, I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin', it's never my fault.  And you know somethin', my friends?

YOU WOULD BE RIGHT.

'Cause bad stuff never is my fault.  And as for when good stuff happens, believe-you-me, you'll hear me takin' credit for it before you even know it's happened.

MOUSES!

But anyway...

But anyway, methinks I should explain.

Okay, so last night, Peepers came into my office without botherin' to turn on the light.  I wasn't in the office at the time but moments after her intrusion, I did hear her cry out, "MOUSES!"

Or somethin' like that.

Then the next thing I knew, the lights were all on and she had brought out the broom.

'Cause you see...

'Cause you see, about a week or so back, Peepers had filled a couple plant trays with pottin' mix and set 'em on the floor next to where she plants seeds and pots up stuff and whatnot.  She was gonna use 'em later that day.  But when later that day arrived, she changed her mind, decidin' to plant what she was plantin' in proper pots, instead.  The trays were pushed aside, and left on the floor.

Her new plan was to empty out the trays with the pottin' mix into the compost bin, but it's been kinda rainy and wet all week, sometimes pretty chilly, and sometimes milder but still miserable, so... 

So said trays of pottin' mix stayed on the floor.

Like I said, she had pushed 'em to the side, outta the way.  But then yesterday mornin', Peepers needed somethin' or other outta the cupboard behind where those trays had been sittin'.  So she moved 'em over a bit.

Well!

Well surprise, surprise, Peepers: Play stupid games and you know what you get.

MOUSES!

That's right, Peepers was playin' stupid peep games when walkin' into my office without turnin' on the light.  It's not like she's a cat, you know.  We cats have superior night time vision.  Peeps don't.

So...

So the one tray that was sittin' on top of the other, got knocked over when she practically stepped on 'em both, and pottin' soil - 'cause after a week it had all dried out - got scattered all over the floor.

MOUSES!

Luckily for the peep, the part of the floor where it all landed was the uncarpeted bit.  Then out came the broom, and before anyone knew it, everythin' was swept right up.

Into a nice little pile.

Kinda in the middle of the room.

Now as late as it was, and totally dark outside, Peepers knew she had to get rid of that mess the next mornin'.  I mean, it wouldn't do for her to get lost out in the dark, headin' over to the compost bin.  Remember, as a peep, she has inferior night vision.

MOUSES!

But sometime overnight...

Sometime overnight, either Saffron or me, mightta kinda walked right through that ol' pile of dried up pottin' mix.

Walked...  Ran...  Jumped up and about in...  Whatever.

MOUSES!

Bottom line is, this mornin' there was dried up pottin' mix ALL OVER the place, includin' the carpet on the other side of the room.

But like I said before, IT'S NOT MY FAULT.

First of all, I'm not even sayin' they were my paws that messed everythin' up.  I really do think it was Saffron.  But secondly, neither one of US left the pile of dirt just sittin' there, ASKIN' to be tossed all about.

That, my dear pals, was Peepers.

So ipso, facto, defuncto:  THE FAULT IS ALL HERS.

MOUSES!

And remember, you can now find me on Bluesky, where the skies are friendly, sunny, and blue.  Just search for Seville the Cat or @nerissathecat 'cause that, my friends, is where I'm now at.

MOUSES!