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!

private line

Now let me get this straight.

So you're sayin'...

What I think you're tellin' me is...

I'm sure I've got this right.

I HAVE MY OWN PRIVATE PHONE LINE, NOW?

Sweet.

MOUSES!

I know, I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin' that I, Seville the Cat...

Oh why don't I just tell you.  I, Seville the Cat, now have my very own, private phone line.

Just as it should be.

MOUSES!

That's right, and I shall fill you in on all the details.  Months and months and months ago - maybe even years - the peeps started gettin' calls for this guy named...  Hmmm...  Well, we'll call him Mr X, so as to maintain his privacy.

MOUSES!

But anyway...

But anyway, some legal office in Ontario kept callin' for Mr X over and over and over again.  But there was no Mr X livin' here.  And I would know, on account of MY livin' here and knowin' all the names of all the peeps who have ever so much as stepped paw in my house, not to mention lived in it.

MOUSES!

So after ascertainin' that I, Seville the Cat, had not at some point gone by the name of Mr X, myself - which I hadn't - Peepers got on the blower to this office to tell 'em that not only did Mr X not live here, but she didn't even know anyone goin' by that name.  And she told 'em not to phone here anymore.

But they kept on phonin'!

Thing is, they weren't actually callin' our number.  They were callin' some OTHER number but the calls were all comin' here.

So a month or two ago, it was finally suggested that Mr X was forwardin' his calls to our number, but that didn't make all that much sense on account of our only gettin' SOME of his calls.  You'd think we'd get 'em all, if that were the case.  Right?  Right.

MOUSES!

But yesterday, when the calls started up once more, the guy at the law office gave Peepers the actual number they've been dialin'.  This was perhaps kinda by accident as by this time Peepers was not only annoyed, but was also bein' super annoyin'.  And sure enough, the number he gave her wasn't ours.

Or was it...

Duh duh duh DUH....

MOUSES!

Well after waitin' on hold - for what seemed like at least one of a cat's lifetimes - to speak with our phone service provider's customer service, only to be referred to technical support where she waited on hold again, only to MYSTERIOUSLY lose the connection once she finally got through...  And after callin' once more and waitin' on hold AGAIN to speak with technical support, she was able to get a few answers.  A few answers, but not all.

She had to phone customer service again.

*sighs*

But now it's all sorted!

We hope.

Got my paws crossed, for sure.

Apparently, the number the law office has for this Mr X is an INACTIVE number that has been reserved for my peeps in case they might, at some future date, wanna use it, even though no one ever, ever, EVER said anythin' about it to any of us.  Weird, right?  Yeah, most definitely weird.  And in the meantime, if anyone does dial the number, it goes straight through to our real one.  Our real number, I mean, but with a different soundin' ring.

So the bottom line is, our phone service provider has RESERVED a number for...

ME.

At least that's how I see it.

So now, the next time Santa wants to call me, he can call me at my new number.  I'll know it's from him on account of it havin' a very special double ring.  And only I, Seville the Cat, will be allowed to answer.

Again, that's how I see it.

Now I just have to write to Santa and tell him 'bout my new private line.  No need for him to have to keep leavin' messages with the peeps.

'Cause they're really not very good at writin' said messages down, correctly.

MOUSES!

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

And remember:

IF IN DOUBT,

DON'T. GO. OUT.

Continue to practice SOCIAL DISTANCIN' measures

AND KEEP WASHIN' YOUR PAWS.

MOUSES!

Remember to mask up, too.

the mysterious list

So there I was, TOTALLY MINDIN' MY OWN BUSINESS, pokin' my nose into cupboards and drawers and those types of things, when I came across a mysterious list.  The list was a list of...

Now what was that word that they used?

Oh yeah, the list was a list of "TRANSGRESSIONS."

Now I, bein' a cat who has never transgressed anyone in all his nine lives, knew the mysterious list could absolutely, NOT POSSIBLY pertain to me.

MOUSES!

But upon further inspection of the mysterious list, I realised there were a number of things on said list, that I, Seville the Cat, had been known to do.

AND WHOMEVER WROTE SAID MYSTERIOUS LIST, WAS CALLING MY ACTIONS, TRANSGRESSIONS!

Well that was just stupid, I thought to myself.  Stupid as stupid could be.  Imagine bein' so stupid as to think that doin' somethin' like bein' all judgemental-like and callin' his peeps stupid was a transgression.

Okay, so when I put it like that, it does actually sound kinda transgression-like, doesn't it.

Even if it is true.

MOUSES!

Fact is, when I, Seville the Cat, judge my ridiculously stupid peeps, it's because I know that that's exactly what they happen to be.

Do they seriously expect me to LIE?

MOUSES!

And speakin' of lyin'....

Well of course, I, Seville the Cat, HAVE NEVER, EVER, EVER done anythin' like lyin'.  Not even once.  Not in all my nine lives.

MOUSES!

But before I read any further, I decided it was of the utmost importance to discover just who had been stupid and foolish enough to have written the list.

Hmmm...  Anonymouse.  Anonymouse?  That's not even a word.

Clearly, the list had been written by either a non-speller or...  Or someone who thinks they're capable of the inventin' of words.  Someone super smart and creative and stuff.

Who does this someone think he or she is?  SOMEONE LIKE ME?

MOUSES!

Hmmm...  Bragging 'bout ones own self-worth and havin' delusions of grandeur was listed as another transgression that had been committed.

BUT SURELY IT DOESN'T COUNT WHEN YOU ACTUALLY ARE AS SMART AND CREATIVE AS YOU'RE CLAIMIN' TO BE.

That's not delusional at all.

MOUSES!

And then...

What's this, now?  What's this underneath this ol' list?

An envelope addressed to Santa.

AN ENVELOPE ADDRESSED TO SANTA?

MOUSES!

Oh my gosh and my golly, someone out there has it out for me, for sure.  SOMEONE is thinkin' they can tell Santa lies about me, tellin' him I've been goin' around committin' transgressions.  SOMEONE is hopin' to get me in trouble.  And with only one week left before Christmas!

Which is bad, if you didn't already know, 'cause it's really hard to get your name removed from the Naughty List in only a week.

Believe me, I know.

MOUSES!

I'M GONNA FIGURE OUT WHO WROTE THIS LIST IF IT'S THE LAST THING I DO.  AND WHEN I DO FIGURE IT OUT, WHOMEVER IT WAS IS GONNA REGRET IT, FOR SURE..  AND...

Gosh darn it.  Apparently the seekin' of revenge is considered a transgression as well.

MOUSES!

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

And remember:

IF IN DOUBT,

DON'T. GO. OUT.

Continue to practice SOCIAL DISTANCIN' measures

AND KEEP WASHIN' YOUR PAWS.

MOUSES!

Remember to mask up, too.

typical peep

So here we are in the final ten days before Christmas, and once again...

Once again...

Once again, Peepers is behind schedule on pretty much everythin'.  Cards haven't yet been sent out.  She's still bakin'.  She's still knittin'.   She's still doin' pretty much everythin' that should have been done before.

Typical peep.

MOUSES!

I, on the other paw, have done everythin' I need to do.

'Course, the fact that I don't actually HAVE anythin' to do to prepare for Christmas, helps.

But that's beside the point.  The point is: I, Seville the Cat, am one hundred percent ready for the 25th.  BRING IT ON, I say.  BRING IT ON!  I'm good to go.  I'm organised and whatnot.  I'm...

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

I ALREADY ADMITTED I didn't actually have anythin' to do to prepare for Christmas.  Fact is, though, preparations to do or not, I'M all ready for the big day.

Unlike you.

MOUSES!

But wait a minute!  I did have one thing to do.  I had my letter to write to Santa, and I wrote that weeks and weeks ago.  Well, two weeks ago, to be exact.  I wrote it on December 1st as I always do; and then I put it in an envelope which I gave to you to take to the post office.  You remember that, Peepers?  Huh?  HUH?  So you see?  I DID have somethin' to do to prepare for Christmas and I, Seville the Cat, bein' an exceptionally well-organised kitty, managed to get that all done on time, and...

Peepers, what's that funny look on your face?  You eat a bad mouse or somethin' like that?

Yeah, I know, you don't eat mice.  So uh...  So did you get into a bad batch of the nip?

Not that catnip is ever bad but sometimes it gets adulterated with mint or lavender or - Heaven help us - citrus.

MOUSES!

So anyway, Peepers, why do you have that funny look on your face?  Maybe you're constipated.  Need more fibre in your diet?  You really should eat a mouse, then, fur and all.  That'll get your insides movin', for sure.

Okay, so now your face is turnin' kinda green.

MOUSES!

Peepers, if you're gonna cough up a hairball or somethin', DON'T DO IT ANYWHERE NEAR ME.

'Cause that would make ME queasy, for sure.

MOUSES!

What?  What's that, Peepers?  Speak up there, would ya?  I know you're babblin' on about somethin' but I can't make heads nor tails of....

YOU WHAT?  YOU WHAT?  YOU FORGOT TO MAIL MY LETTER TO SANTA?

Of all the no-good, good-for-nothin' peeps.

If a kitty wants somethin' done, a kitty needs to do it himself.

DON'T BLAME ME if the phone bill is extra big this month.  Not my fault I have to go and phone Santa instead of writin'.  And it's not my fault I'll probably be put on hold for like an hour or two and then, when I finally do get through, I'll need to have a chat with my pal Rudolph 'cause we haven't had a good chat in ages.  And I'll probably need to chat with Mrs Claus, too, on account of her enjoyin' chattin' with me so very much.  Don't go blamin' me, Peepers.  I'M not the one who forgot to go to the post office.

Typical peep.

MOUSES!

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

And remember:

IF IN DOUBT,

DON'T. GO. OUT.

Continue to practice SOCIAL DISTANCIN' measures

AND KEEP WASHIN' YOUR PAWS.

MOUSES!

Remember to mask up, too.

'twas the post before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas...

Nah, that's not right.  Christmas isn't 'til Saturday and today is just Wednesday.

MOUSES!

'Twas the POST before Christmas, and all through the house...

...not a creature was stirrin',

NOT EVEN A MOUSE!

The mousies were hung by the chimney with care...

...which is why they weren't stirrin',

And kept outta my hair.

I mean fur, of course.

MOUSES!

The peeps were nestled all snug in their beds while visions of sugar plums...

Nah, that's not right, either.  I don't think Peepers has ever dreamt of sugar plums.  She's more a dreamin' of peach cobbler kinda gal, for sure.

I don't even know if she knows what a sugar plum is.

MOUSES!

And Mama in her 'kerchief, and I in my...

Okay, that right there has gotta make this little poem come to an end.  If I were to see Peepers with a hankie wrapped 'round her head, I'd be thinkin' she'd gone 'round the bend!

And me wearin' a cap?  A CAP?  I don't wear no caps, 'cause I, Seville the Cat, am a cat, and cats don't wear no stupid caps.

Need I say it?

MOUSES!

So enough with my failed attempt at poetry.

MOUSES!

Here's the thing: Christmas is right 'round the corner and I've got my paws filled with wrappin' prezzies...

I mean, UNwrappin' prezzies.

I MEAN, playin' with the wrappin' paper when Peepers isn't about.

THING IS, I've got my paws busy doin' stuff I should or should not be doin'.

Yeah, that's about right.

BUT I KNOW peeps and cats...

Dogs, too, of course.

...out there are gonna wanna reread some of my Christmas adventures from years past, so...

So...

So I'm gonna paw over all the links for all those adventures right here in this here blog post, puttin' them all in one place, nice and convenient like for your purrsonal purrusal.

And if I don't see you between now and Christmas...

Here are those links I told you 'bout.

2014:  The Naughty List

2015:  The Mysterious Christmas Ornament

2016:  Reindeer Dust

2016:  Seville Saves Christmas

2017:  Santa's Mail Train

2017:  Mason to the Rescue

2017:  The Shelf Elf

2018:  'Twas the Night Before Christmas

2019:  The Santa Sack, part I

2019:  The Santa Sack, part II

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

And remember:

IF IN DOUBT,

DON'T. GO. OUT.

Continue to practice SOCIAL DISTANCIN' measures

AND KEEP WASHIN' YOUR PAWS.

MOUSES!

Remember to mask up, too.

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!

   

Santa's mail train

"Ho-Ho!  Look at this, Mason.  Peep #1 set up a Christmas village for us, right here in the livin' room.  This is gonna be super fun, for sure."

Mason narrowed her eyes.  "I doubt she put it up for us, Seville.  The peeps usually discourage us from playing with the Christmas decorations."

"Yeah, yeah...  But I never pay any attention to 'em when they do that," Seville explained to his sister.  "They say No and I say, What-was-that-you-said-again? or somethin' like that.  Personally, I don't even bother pretending to listen when they scold us, anymore.  The peep and I have come to an understandin'."

"Oh really?" Mason asked, somewhat doubtfully.

"Oh yeah," Seville nodded.  "I no longer pretend to listen, and the peep no longer expects me to pretend.  Or to listen.  Or any variation, thereof.  And do you know what?  Our understandin' appears to be workin', for sure."

Mason rolled her eyes.

"Oohhh...  Mason.  IT'S A TRAIN!  The village the peep put up for us has its very own train."  Seville watched as the train approached him, chugging along the tracks.  Chugga-chugga-chugga-chugga...  Chugga-chugga-chugga-chugga...  "I wonder where the train goes."

"In a circle, would be my guess," Mason sighed.  "In a circle, right around the Christmas tree."

"Nah, that's way too obvious," Seville scoffed.  "It can't be as simple as that."  He sat on his haunches and thought for a moment.  "I bet this particular train travels all the way up to the North Pole.  I bet this particular train makes daily trips to Santa's Workshop.  I bet the conductor of this particular train knows the Big Guy in Red, himself!  You think I could hitch a ride on the train and go visit Santa Claus, Mason?  I haven't seen him all year, you know."

"I think you're a little big for that particular train, Sivvers," said Mason, shaking her head.  "That is, even if it did go all the way to the North Pole, and not just around and around AND AROUND the Christmas tree, right here in our living room."

"But it DOES go to the North Pole," Seville insisted.  "I saw 'em sortin' mail in the mail car, and all the mail that was bein' sorted was addressed to Santa Claus!" and he stomped a paw for emphasis.

"You saw them what?" Mason's jaw dropped.  "Pshaw.  You, my brother, have been into the nip again.  I can tell."

"I am not nipped.  Well, no more nipped than usual, that is.  And I DID TOO see 'em sortin' mail in the mail car.  Look," and he grabbed his sister by the tail.  Watch as the train passes again.  Look in the third car from the back.  You'll see a postmaster and two elves, going through bags and bags of mail, and..."

"Well look at that," Mason whistled.  "I wonder how Peep #1 got those miniature animated toys inside that train.  The detail is really quite amazing."

"Detail, shmetail.  Those aren't toys.  Those are real, live elves and a postman in there.  They're miniature on account of needin' to fit inside the train, I suspect.  Probably usin' the same magic Santa uses when he has to fit himself down chimneys and stuff on Christmas Eve."

Wistfully, Seville watched the train pass him once more.  "THIS HERE TRAIN travels to the North Pole, for sure, Mason.  I can feel it in my whiskers," and he smiled, knowingly.

"Whatever you say," and Mason turned on her tail.  "Let me know if you figure out how to fit your big cat self into that teeny tiny train, okay?  I'll be in the kitchen, looking for treats."

"Will do!" Seville called, waving his sister off.  "Hmmm...  Now exactly how does one miniaturize oneself to fit inside a miniature train headin' for the North Pole?  HMMM..."

Mason returned a little while later with a bag of treats in her paw.  "Want some?" she asked her brother.

"I'm too busy thinkin' to be eatin' treats," Seville answered.  "Besides, I've come to the conclusion that in order to fit inside this here train, I might need to reduce my daily treat consumption."


Mason stared at her brother, not quite sure how to respond.

"I'VE GOT IT!" Seville yelled.  "I know how to get myself into that train."

"This should be good," his sister chuckled.

"Oh ye of little faith," and Seville dashed out of the living room.  Moments later, he returned with a gift tag and magic marker.  Using the marker, he wrote Santa's address, which thankfully, he knew by heart, on the gift tag.  He then took some ribbon from a gift under the tree, and used it to tie the tag around his neck.  "Wait and see, Mason.  Just WAIT AND SEE."

Seville and Mason sat quietly, watching the train as it approached.

Seville and Mason sat quietly, watching the train as it passed, leaving them both behind.

Mason yawned.  "Let me know when you figure this out, huh?  I'm going back to the kitchen to score another bag of treats," and with that, she turned on her tail and left the room once more.

"Awww...  MOUSES!"  Seville whimpered before sitting down, looking rather dejected.  "I thought that was gonna work, for sure."  He distractedly pawed at a large decorative box under the tree.  "This must be one of the boxes Peep #1 uses to store the tree decorations and stuff when it's not Christmas time," he murmured.  He lifted the lid.  "Yup, there's a whole bunch of crumpled up tissue paper in here.  Probably the paper she wraps the glass ornaments in."

Seville watched as the train chugged its way around the tree once more.  "Guess I'm not gettin' to visit Santa today," he sighed.  "Maybe I'll go check out the treat situation in the kitchen," and he stood to leave.  "On the other paw, maybe I'll have a nice little nap in this here storage box.  Silly to let a good box like this go to waste.  It's even filled with tissue paper.  I love tissue paper.  Comfy for lyin' on AND fun for shreddin', too," and he hopped into the box.

"OUCH!"  With a paw, Seville dug around under the tissue.  Finding the solid object he had landed upon, he pulled it out for examination.  "What the mouses is this?" he asked himself, holding up a glass jar.  "It's not an ornament.  At least I don't think it is.  But there's something sparkly inside.  Looks kinda like a jar full of glitter."

Unscrewing the lid, Seville held his nose to the jar's opening to get a whiff of what was inside, on the off chance it might be some new form of glittery catnip.

"Ah...  AH...  AH...  ACHOO!" the cat sneezed, sending glitter in every direction.

As the glitter fell to the floor, it danced in the air.  Then it began to swirl around and around, and before Seville knew it, the glitter had encircled him within a cloud of sparkling, flashing lights.

"BANG!"

Dazed, and more than a little tingly, Seville got to his paws.  Looking up, he met the kind face of a stranger who looked vaguely familiar.  He shook his head to clear it, and looked around.  No longer in the storage box under the Christmas tree, the cat found himself in a train car, with a postman and two elves, who were all very busy sorting mail.

"Mail arrival!" cried one of the elves, looking directly at Seville.  The elf grabbed hold of the gift tag tied around Seville's neck.  "Addressed to Santa, he is," said the elf.  He groaned as he tried to pick Seville up.  "The cat must weigh close to twenty pounds!"

"I. DO. NOT." Seville stated, emphatically.

The elf attempted to lift Seville again.  Getting him off the ground, this time, he staggered backwards.  He tried to regain his balance but it was too late, and before anyone knew it, the elf was on the train car floor, with Seville standing on top of him.

Seville scowled at the elf.  "Stupid elf," he muttered.  "I'm only sixteen pounds.  Maybe - just maybe - sixteen and a half.  But twenty?  MOUSES!"

"Get off me you big marmalade oaf!" the elf wheezed, clearly in distress.

But at that moment, Seville was far too busy looking about the train car to pay any attention to the elf beneath him, gasping for air.  "Ooh-boy," Seville whistled.  "That there jar wasn't filled with glitter.  I'm thinkin' it must have been some kinda magical magic dust, for sure.  MOUSES!"

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

Be sure to return to Nerissa's Life, the blog, on Sunday December 17th,

for the conclusion of my excitin' Christmas adventure.

PURRS.

the mysterious Christmas ornament

Seville sat back on his haunches and gazed up at the Christmas tree. "Lovely," he purred. "Peeps really outdid themselves this year. Everything's all pretty and sparkly.  Bet Santa's gonna be really pleased when he stops by on Christmas Eve."

"Oohhh...  That one's new," and the cat approached the tree. "I've never seen that ornament before.  Wonder where it came from."  He examined the glass ball hanging from a bottom branch.  "Just look at that.  Someone managed to create an entire little snow scene in there.  Amazing detail.  And it even has sound effects.  Is that wind I hear howling from inside?"

"Hey Mason!" and Seville cried out to his sister.  "Come see this new ornament the peeps put on the tree.  You know where it came from?"

Mason padded across the room.  "No, I've never seen that one before," she told Seville.  "The peeps must have bought it this year.  Kind of pretty."

"It sure is," Seville agreed.  "It looks so real.  OH MY MOUSES!" and Seville jumped backwards. "Mason, I touched it with my nose and it's freezing cold.  You try."

Mason reached out a paw to touch the ornament lightly.  There was a spark of light and she, too, jumped backwards.

"What the mouses is going on?" asked Seville.  "This needs investigating, to be sure."

Once again, Seville sniffed at the glass ball hanging from the tree.  His nose grew cold.  The ornament appeared to be enveloped by a pocket of frigid air.  Very gingerly, he touched the surface of the ball, fighting the urge to draw back from the cold.  Coloured lights began to flash about him and he felt a cold, icy wind ruffling his fur.  "Mason..." he cried and felt his sister tugging on his tail.

"Sivvers!" Mason yelled.  "Sivvers, come back here!  SIVVERS..."

Seville somersaulted forward.  Over and over he went until eventually, he landed in a pile of snow. "MOUSES!"  Chewing on his lower lip he muttered, "Fine mess I've gotten myself into this time."

"Fine mess you've gotten us into," Mason fumed, spitting some loose snow out of her mouth.  "Why did you have to go and get us sucked up into that glass ornament?"

"Is that what happened?" questioned Seville, scratching the back of his head.  "Never knew an ornament could do that kind of thing.  Where do you suppose we are?"

Mason pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes.  "Where we are, is inside that darned glass ornament.  A better question would be how are we going to get out.  MOUSES!"

"That's my line," Seville pointed out to his sister but seeing the look on her face he added, "Uh, never mind."

The two cats decided to head towards a building they could see off in the distance.  The temperature was dropping quickly and the wind had picked up, whipping snow about them and creating almost blizzard-like conditions.  "Gotta keep going,  gotta keep going," they chanted.  They both knew that staying out in the cold wasn't an option.  A cat could freeze being exposed to such winter temperatures.

Almost at the building, they could see it was some sort of barn.  A bright light shone from within, assuring them it was occupied. Mason and Seville picked up their pace, desperate to get out of the cold.  Seville pulled open the door and they both dashed inside.

"You heard me!" a young reindeer cried with relief. "Thank goodness you've come to my rescue."

"Your rescue?" asked Seville. "Wait a minute... Wait a cotton picking moused-up minute...  I know you.  You're Rudolf!  MOUSES!  What on earth are you doing here?"

"I'll explain while you untie me," answered Rudolf.  "Please hurry before they return."

After listening to the reindeer's tale, Mason spoke up first.  "So you're saying that evil snowmen captured you and locked you up in this barn?" she asked skeptically.  "It sounds kind of far-fetched, Rudolf.  Are you sure you haven't been indulging in the eggnog or nip or whatever it is that reindeer like?"

But before Rudolf could deny Mason's accusations, the door to the barn opened and a gust of wind sent snow spiralling throughout the building.  There, standing inside the door were two snowmen, one of whom let out an evil laugh.  "Another two captives.  Wonderful!" the other cried.

"Oh no!" Rudolf wailed.  "Now I'll never get back to the North Pole in time for Christmas.  What will Santa do?"

Having had the chance to warm up a bit, Mason pulled herself together to demand some answers from the snowmen.  "Why did you kidnap Rudolf and hold him captive?" she queried.

"Wouldn't you like to know," one of the snowmen answered in a sinister voice.

"Well as a matter of fact, I would," Mason replied.

"And I would, too," added Seville.  "And a word to the wise, if I may.  You really don't wanna get my sister angry.  She can have a bit of a temper, you know.  She's super smart, too.  Not a great combo to be on the wrong side of, if you know what I mean."

One of the snowmen bent over, peering closely at Seville.  "Are you threatening us, little cat?  I don't think you're in a position to threaten either one of us."

"Well then," and Mason tried again, using a different tact.  "As you're clearly in charge here, I'm sure  you won't mind explaining why you kidnapped our friend, Rudolf."

"Because," the smaller of the two snowmen sneered, "we're sick and tired of hearing how much everyone loves Santa and his reindeer, not to mention those pesky little green elves.  Santa this, Santa that.  To hear them, you'd think he was the most wonderful thing on earth.  No one ever talks about us snowmen like that."

"Ummm...  the elves aren't actually green," piped up Seville.  "They merely wear green clo..."  Mason cut Seville off with a thwack of her tail to the back of his head.

"What my brother is trying to say is... Well...  Well never mind what he's trying to say.  It's not important.  What is important is that Rudolf has a very important job to do on Christmas Eve and he can't do it if he's being held hostage by the two of you.  You have to let him go.  And us, too," she added hastily.

"Ha!" the snowmen both cried.  "You're not going anywhere until after Christmas.  When Santa doesn't deliver any toys to any of the little girls and boys, they'll start seeing that old man in red in a very different light."


Rudolf stood to his full height.  "Oh yeah?  Well Santa will show you. Even without my help to guide him, he'll still get those presents delivered."

"It'll never happen," the smaller snowman sneered.  "Didn't you hear?  There's going to be a terrible blizzard on Christmas Eve.  Without you, he'll never find his way."

The two cats and Rudolf stood there, not knowing what to say.  Seville gathered his thoughts, first.  "You're just a couple of big ol' meanies," he declared.  "Is that why you hate Santa so much?  Were you always on the naughty list and never got any presents?  Because you know, acting like you're acting right now would get you on Santa's naughty list, for sure.  I mean..."

"QUIET!" one snowmen yelled.  "You'll be quiet if you know what's good for you, cat.  Keep on talking like that and we'll never let you go.  Not even after Christmas is past," he smirked.

"I've heard enough," declared Mason.  "Seville, you know what you need to do."

"I do?"

"You do."

"No, seriously Mason," and Seville whispered in his sister's ear.  "I don't think I do.  Can you give me a hint or something."

"Oh for crying out loud," and Mason flung her front paws up into the air.  "Don't you remember what happened to that snowman you and Nissy made a couple of years ago?  You know the one.  After you made it, you boys thought you'd mark it as your own and..."

"Oh yeah," and Seville grinned broadly.  "I remember now," and turning, he lifted his tail and began to spray.

"NNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" the snowmen cried in unison but the more Seville sprayed, the fainter their cries became until eventually, there was nothing left but two yellow puddles on the barn floor.

"Great work!" and Mason slapped her brother on his back.

"But we still need to get out of here," said Rudolf.  "I need to get back to the North Pole before it's too late."

"I have an idea," and Seville opened the barn door wide.  Turning his back to the blistery weather outside and lifting his tail, once again, Seville began to spray.

The three friends heard crackling sounds.  They were fairly faint at first but then became louder and louder until with one final deafening crack, the cats and Rudolf tumbled through the snow and out of the broken glass ball, landing on the cats' living room floor.

"MOUSES!" cried Seville.

"Mouses, indeed," agreed Rudolf and drawing to his feet, he shook off some snow from his back. "Sorry about the snowy mess," he apologized, "but I've really got to go. Santa will be waiting for me."

"Of course," answered Seville.  "You had better fly back, right away. Mason and I will clean up this mess before the peeps see it.  Promise."

Rudolf trotted to the front door but before flying off, he turned to face the two cats once more.  "Thank you for coming to my rescue, you two.  I'll be sure to let Santa know and, I suspect, you'll find extra nip in your stockings this year."

Mason and Seville watched as Rudolf took flight and waving to him off in the distance they whispered, "Merry Christmas Rudolf.  Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night."

he's back!

We interrupt our regularly scheduled post for some late-breaking news...

HE'S BACK!

Yup, he's back.  Nosey-Neighbour-Cat is back and in fine form, for sure.

There I was, sittin' at my desk workin' on my blog, when I glanced out the window.  Trottin' down my driveway was a dark grey kitty whom I immediately recognised as that nosey cat from across the street.  He was back.

I know what you're thinkin'.  I know the question you're dyin' to ask.  You wanna know, where had he gone and from where was he returnin'.  Well...  he hadn't really gone anywhere.  I shall endeavour to explain.

Exactly one month ago today, Peep #1 found that ol' nosey neighbourin' cat of mine sittin' on the love seat on my veranda.  The love seat was an interestin' choice for him on account of it bein' a love seat and believe-you-me, there is certainly no love lost between that nosey kitty and my fur-fam.  Nope, no love lost, at all.  But the love seat is comfy so I can see why he chose to lie upon it rather than upon one of the chairs.  You can get a better stretch in on the love seat, you see, and if you get bored with just stretchin', you can get in some scratchin', too.  Wicker furniture is the best for scratchin'.  Believe me, I know.

Um...  Don't tell my peeps 'bout the scratchin' of the wicker.  That can be our little secret, okay? Okay.  Thanks.

Anywho...  It was Christmas mornin' and the peep found Nosey-Neighbour-Cat on my love seat. MOUSES!

The peep realised that that ol' neighbourin' cat of nosiness needed to be at his own house if he was gonna open up his prezzies from Santa and whatnot so she went out, picked him up and took him back home.  His peeps were super happy to see him.  Apparently, he had gone up a tree or somethin' the night before and gotten himself stuck up there.  His dad went up the tree after him - I'm assumin' he used a ladder although one never knows these things when it comes to peeps - but once he was close enough to grab Mr. Nosey, Mr Nosey jumped down.  He didn't wanna go in. I'm thinkin' he was hopin' to stay up late to catch a glimpse of Santa or somethin' but that's really only supposition on my part since I never actually asked him.  He and I don't have a lot of conversations, you see.

Hmm...  He and I don't have a lot of civil conversations is probably more accurate.  Best to be completely truthful when we're talking 'bout anythin' involving the big guy in red.

Anywho...  Nosey-Neighbour-Cat refused to go inside.  His mum called and called but he simply refused.  MOUSES!

When you think about it, he's lucky Santa left him any prezzies at all.  Not comin' in when your peeps call you is just the kind of behaviour that can land a kitty on the naughty list, if you know what I mean.  And that coupled with causin' your dad to start climbin' the trees...  You get my drift, I am sure.

But back to my story.  Exactly one month ago today, on Christmas mornin', Peep #1 had scooped that furry bundle of nosiness into her arms and returned him home.  That, my friends, was the last time we saw him.

The last time we saw him until today, that is.

Nosey-Neighbour-Cat's peeps must have been keepin' a super close eye on him or somethin' because he wasn't comin' over at all.  Basically what that means is that he wasn't gettin' out 'cause the moment he gets outside, he heads straight on over here to my house.  MOUSES!

You know, it's not easy keepin' Nosey-Neighbour-Cat inside.  He's quick.  Way quicker than a peep. Believe me, I know.  I've heard all about it from the first peep, for sure.

Peep #1 has been known to look after that Nosey-Neighbour-Cat on more than one occasion when his peeps were away.  She can't keep him inside, either!

One time, she tried takin' over some nip toys to see if she could distract him with the nip. EXCELLENT idea, I should think.  After givin' him his food and some cuddlin', the peep stood at the back door and tossed a nip toy across the kitchen floor.  His Royal Highness of Nosiness ran for the nip and the peep made her escape...  the first time.  Next mornin', she tried the same tactical manoeuvre but he was onto her.  Oh he went for the nip, all right, but before the peep could get out and close the door, there he was, squeezin' out behind her.  Like I said, the cat is quick.

Eventually Peep #1 gave up on the keepin' of Sir Nosey inside durin' the day.  She found that if she fed him only at night, she could make her escape out the door while he was eatin'.  Then in the mornings, she would go over to play with him for a bit but instead of servin' breakkies, she'd let him out with an open invitation to come on over to my house whenever he got hungry.  Then each evening, she would call him and he'd follow her back to his house for dinner and be willin' to spend the night indoors.

Now if you ask me, this kind of behaviour of the peep's is what has caused all the trouble in the first place.  Due to the lack of good judgement of the part of my peep, Nosey-Neighbour-Cat thinks that Peep #1 is his pal or somethin'.  Yeah, they're all palsy-walsy and whatnot.  Nothin' good ever comes from bein' palsy-walsy with neighbours who are nosey.  No wonder he trots over to my house every chance he gets.  MOUSES!

Leave it to a peep to use poor judgement.  Again I must say, MOUSES!

And trot over here is exactly what that ol' Nosey-Neighbour-Cat did this mornin'.  Yup, first chance he had, he was over here.  Over here like a flash.  Trottin' down my driveway and headin' to my house like he owned the place.  You should have seen him, struttin' about with his tail up in the air, full of confidence.

Let me tell you...  If anyone is gonna be struttin' about over here it's gonna be me.  MOUSES!

Well the peeps did a pretty good job of keepin' him out of the house today.  In other words, they didn't open the window and invite him inside.  They're learnin'.  I'll give them that.

But Nosey-Neighbour-Cat did hang out outside my kitchen window for quite some time.  Guess he was hopin' someone would let him in.  Or maybe he just wanted my peeps to know that he was safe and sound and that he missed them.  Don't know for sure on account of my not asking 'cause you know, he and I don't really conversate a whole lot.

Conversate...  interestin' word, that.  In truth, I don't believe it's a word at all.  I think the word that's meant to be used is converse.  Conversate appears to be one of those made-up words peeps on television use when appearin' before the judge with the spunk.  Peeps make up a lot of words when appearin' before her although more often than not, they're simply misusing ones already invented. MOUSES!

As for my originally scheduled blog post, please stay tuned.  A week from today, we'll discuss the pros and cons of legalizin' the nip.