thirty-eight weeks

AND A VERY BAH HUMBUG TO YOU, TOO.

MOUSES!

For mousin' out loud, I've been on the phone all mornin' with the feds, tryin' to get Santa an exemption for travel due to pandemic restrictions and whatnot on Christmas Eve, and..

AND YOU WOULDN'T BELIEVE HOW RUDE THOSE FEDS CAN BE!

MOUSES!

As if I didn't already have enough on my paws, havin' to be cooped up in this here house with Peepers for the past two hundred and six MILLION, eight hundred and forty-one thousand, six hundred cat seconds - which I can assure you, my friends, is an ETERNITY, for sure - 

...  And then I'm expected to put up with cheek from the feds, too?

MOUSES!

Well have no fear, my friends, I'm gonna take names and kick tail.

Or should that be kick tail and take names?

Whatever.

MOUSES!

And I'll tell you what ELSE I'll do.  I'm gonna take my very long list of those uncooperative federal authorities, and give it to Santa.  And HE'S gonna put all their names on his naughty list, for sure.

MOUSES!

Now back to those annoyin' feds.

After speakin' to like three hundred and twenty-one of 'em, one of whom was actually a janitor someone passed the phone to on account of said someone not wantin' to talk to me...

And let me tell you, the janitor was the nicest one of the bunch.  He even gave me some pointers to give to Peepers for keepin' my little boys' box spiffy clean.  Real thoughtful guy, he was.  Real thoughtful, for sure.

... I FINALLY got the information I needed.  Apparently, Santa IS Canadian (thus, the red suit) and lives at the North Pole, which is IN Canada (for all who are geographically uninclined), and therefore doesn't need a travel exemption at all!

Least not from the feds.

Like one of the FIRST three hundred and twenty federal peeps with whom I spoke couldn't have told me that.

And I'm STILL givin' their names to Santa.

MOUSES!

So anyway, Santa doesn't need a travel exemption from Ottawa.

... But to get into ATLANTIC Canada, he does.

So now I've gotta call Premier McNeil and Dr Strang, in Halifax.

MOUSES!

Paws crossed this works out.  I JUST KNOW Santa's gonna wanna visit me on the 24th.  But if I can't get him an exemption, he'll have to quarantine with us for fourteen days which to tell you the truth, wouldn't be so bad.  I mean, instead of the twelve days of Christmas, we could do the FOURTEEN days of Christmas, and he could give me prezzies on each and every one, but...

But I have no idea where the reindeer will bunk.  I don't think we have enough rooms.

MOUSES!

And anyone know if reindeer eat kibble?

Askin' for a friend.

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.

Mason to the rescue

Previously on Nerissa's Life... 

"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!"

"What to do, what to do...  WHAT TO DO, WHAT TO DO...  I know!" and Seville snapped his claws.  "I know exactly what to do.  I need to start yellin', for sure.  MOUSES!"

"HELP!!!"

On the other paw, it's possible no one can even hear me.  If I've been miniaturized, I bet my voice has been miniaturized, too," and Seville let out a disappointed sigh.

"Hey!" the flattened elf under Seville's paws sputtered.  "I can hear you just fine.  Keep it down, would you?"

Seville stepped off the elf, allowing him to sit up.  The elf immediately started to furiously brush something off his clothing.

"That cat hair or paw prints?" asked Seville.  "FYI: if it's cat hair, it's not comin' off.  Peep #1 had to take her jacket to the dry cleaners on account of my hair once, and the jacket came back lookin' exactly like it had looked before it went in."

The elf scowled and brushed even more furiously.

"Oh my mouses!" and Seville dashed to the mail car's window.  Outside the train was a large, creamy-fawn coloured blob.  "OH MY MOUSES!  That there blob is my sister, Mason, for sure," he cried.  "Mason!  MASON!  MAY-SAHN!!!  Yoo-hoo!  Over here!  Down here!  In here!  HERE!" he yelled.

"That's weird," Mason muttered, looking around the living room.  "Now where did Seville get to this time?  Maybe he went upstairs for a nap."  Turning to go look for her brother upstairs, Mason stopped in her tracks.  "Do we have mice?" she asked herself.  "I'm sure I heard something squeaking."

"I'M NOT A MOUSE!" Seville hollered.  "IT'S ME.  SIVVERS!  I'm stuck in this ol' toy train."

Mason peered about the room, trying to identify from where the squeaking sounds were coming.  Finally, she looked down at the train.  Her jaw dropped in disbelief when she saw the train whizz past with Seville's face plastered to the inside of its window.

"How the mouses?"  She held up a paw.  "Never mind.  There are some things I really do not want to know."

"MAY-SAHN..." Seville cried as the train headed away from his sister.  "I'm stuck in here, and I can't get out!"

Mason shook her head to clear it.  Coming to the conclusion that her brother must be trapped, she waited until the train circled the Christmas tree and approached her once more.  "Time to be brave, Mason," she told herself, before stepping in front of the oncoming toy train.

The iron tires squealed as they ground to a halt against the tracks, and there was a screeching sound of twisting metal.  The train teetered to the right, and then to the left, before coming to a full stop.  Seville, the postmaster, and the two elves were all thrown to the front of the train car.  Picking himself up, Seville ran back to the window.

Mason stepped off the train tracks and brushed herself off.  Finding the car her brother was in, she pressed her nose against the window, and peered inside.  "Is that really you in there, Seville?" she asked.

"Yes!  YES!  It's me.  Boy-oh-boy am I ever glad to see you, Mason.  I'm stuck in here, and I can't get out."

"But how did you get inside that teeny-tiny train in the first place?" Seville's sister asked him.

"Well...  Well I was gonna take a nap in that there box," and Seville pointed to the gift box still under the tree, "and then I found a jar of magical magic dust that I thought was glitter, which, of course, I opened up to see if it was really some kinda sparkly nip.  And then I sneezed, and then...  Well...  Well then I ended up in here."

Mason trotted over to the gift box.  Finding the jar of magic dust, she held it up to the light to examine it.  "Interesting..." she murmured.  "Glitter capable of initiating a miniaturization response."  She shook her head in disgust.  "Peep #1 should know better than to leave something like this lying around, especially when..." and she glanced over to her brother trapped in the toy train.  "Especially when Seville is around."

"Can you fix this?" Seville cried.

Going back to the train, Mason put her nose up against the mail car's window once more.  "Ask those elves in there if they know anything about magic dust," she instructed Seville.

Seville turned to ask the elves but saw them frantically jumping around, trying to resort the mail that had flown about the mail car when the train had lurched to a stop.  "Ummm...  They look kinda upset," he told Mason.  "I'm not asking 'em anythin'.  At least not right now.  You have any other ideas?" he asked, hopefully.

Mason thought for a moment and then went back to the gift box.  She pawed about amongst the tissue paper, looking for anything else that might be hidden underneath.  Finding nothing, she sat down on her haunches and sighed.


"Maybe you could call the North Pole and ask Santa!" Seville hollered out to her.  "I think he might use the same kinda magical magic dust to make himself small enough to get down chimneys and things on Christmas Eve.  He must have a way of makin' himself big again, 'cause he's gotta be full-sized when the kiddies sit on his lap at malls and things.  Don't you think?"

"Mail arrival!" one of the elves cried out, and a multitude of letters all addressed to Santa at the North Pole, appeared from seemingly nowhere, before drifting down to the floor.  The elves continued to work, sorting the mail.

"Oh for the love of mouses," Seville sighed.  "Where is all this mail comin' from?  And why-oh-why is it comin' here, to this train?  I know I thought the train was headin' for the North Pole before, but it appears to takin' a very circuitous route around our Christmas tree, for sure.

"This train goes to the North Pole, all right," the postmaster chimed in.  "As soon as the last letter to Santa arrives on December 24th, the train will make its final trip around your Christmas tree, before heading due north, arriving just in time for the final packing of Santa's sleigh."

"December 24th!" Seville cried.  "But that's a whole week away.  I can't be stuck in this here train for an entire week.  I have things to do.  You know, treats to eat.  Nip to sniff.  Stuff like that."

"Patience there, little feller.  Christmas Eve morning will arrive before you know it and..."

But Seville had gone back to the train car's window, frantically pawing at it to get his sister's attention.

"Mason!  MASON!  I have to tell you what the postmaster in here just said," and he relayed everything to his sister.

Mason thought for a moment.  "Have no fear, brother dear, for I, Mason the Cat, know just what to do."

"Hmmm...  That sounds suspiciously like somethin' I would normally say," Seville told his sister.

"And you could be saying it right now, too, if you hadn't foolishly allowed yourself to be miniaturized, and then trapped inside a toy train," Mason snapped.  "Hold on there Sivvers, give me a moment.  We'll get this show on the road..."  She stopped mid-sentence and burst out laughing.  "We'll get this story back on TRACK in just a moment."

"Very funny," Seville scowled.  "I sure do hope you know what you're doin'."

"Just don't go anywhere," Mason told Seville, before heading off to gather supplies.

"Where am I gonna to go?  In case you hadn't noticed, I'm STUCK in this here train goin' nowhere."

Moments later, Mason returned, bringing with her what she needed to rescue her brother.  She dragged over the calendar that normally hung on the wall in the kitchen, and very carefully tore the page for December out, before using Seville's magic marker to X out every day of the month up to, and including, December 23rd.  She then used the same marker to make out a gift tag, addressing it to Santa at the North Pole, and stuck it to the calendar page for December, with a little tape.  After that was done, Mason got the toy train back on its tracks, and started it moving again.  She watched with satisfaction as it started to chug its way around the tree once more.  Finally, Mason opened the jar of magical magic dust, and sprinkled a little over the page from the calendar, being very careful not to get any on herself.

There was a popping sound, and then a crackle, and before Mason knew it, flashing lights began to fill the living room.  She watched as the page from the calendar vanished before her.

"Mail arrival!" an elf cried, catching the miniaturized calendar page as it fell to the floor.  "It's addressed to Santa," the elf stated.

Seville dashed over to the elf holding the page from the calendar.  "Ho-ho!" he cried.  "Lookie there, my little green pal.  That there is a calendar.  And just LOOK at what it says.  Look at that.  Look!" and he pawed at where all the dates leading up to Christmas Eve had been X'd off.  "That there calendar says today is the 24th of December."

"Well I'll be," said the postmaster, approaching Seville and the elf.  "My, time does fly when you're having fun.  It's time for us to be heading up North."

"Mason, you are brilliant," Seville whispered under his breath.  "But you'll never hear me say that to your face."

All of a sudden, Seville could feel the train picking up speed.  Faster, and faster, and faster it went, until it eventually lifted right off the train tracks.  Soaring through the air now, Seville ran to the window and looked down.  He could see his sister on the floor of the living room, looking smaller and smaller as the train flew higher.

It felt like only mere minutes had passed when Seville felt the train begin to descend.  Very gently, it glided onto train tracks covered in snow, and headed toward a massive wooden building Seville recognized as Santa's Workshop up at the North Pole.

"HO! HO! HO!" Santa cried, coming to greet the train as it pulled to a stop.  "What happened?" he asked the postmaster.  "You're a full week early."

"Ummm... 'Bout that," Seville interrupted.  "Perhaps I can explain."

Once Santa stopped laughing, he picked Seville up in his arms.  "My my, you do get yourself into mischief there, little one.  You're just like my elves."

Seville opened his mouth to protest about the comparison, but thought better of it.

"Santa, do you know how to make me my proper size again, so that I can go back home?" Seville asked.

"But you're already your proper size, Seville.  The miniaturization process was reversed on your journey up North.  And as for getting you home, I'll have Rudolf take you in the sleigh.  It was needing a test drive, anyway."

"But what about the rest of the mail?" the postmaster cried.  "Children are still writing letters to Santa - to YOU - but we've already left the Seville the Cat station."

Seville's eyes grew wide.  "There's a Seville the Cat mail station?  MOUSES!"

"Rudolf will take you and the train back to Seville's house, too," Santa told the postmaster, explaining that the train and crew would have to be miniaturized for the journey south, but Seville would remain his proper size.

"ALL ABOARD!" the postmaster cried, and before Seville knew it, he was sitting in Santa's sleigh with the toy train next to him, as Rudolf went through his pre-flight checklist.

"Thank you so much!" Seville cried, as he waved down to Santa on the ground below .  "I'll make sure your favourite cookies are waiting for you at my house this Christmas Eve.  The ones with the nip icing!" he added, knowing Santa liked them best.

Minutes later, Rudolf came to a stop on Seville's front lawn.  Mason dashed out of the house, and gave her brother a big hug.  "You were gone a whole half hour!" she told him.  "I was getting worried," and hugged him once more.

With Rudolf's help, the two cats managed to get the toy train back on its tracks, and watched as it chugged its way around the Christmas tree once more.  The three then headed back outdoors.

Seville turned to Rudolf to thank him for everything.  Rudolf blushed, his nose turning red.  "I'll see you two on Christmas Eve," Rudolf said, "but for now, I really must get back to the North Pole.  There's only a week left 'til Christmas, you know."

Seville and Mason both gave Rudolf a hug and together, they watched as the reindeer rose higher and higher in the air, eventually disappearing from sight.  Going back into the house, Seville looked about the living room for the jar of magical magic dust.  "Hmmm..." he murmured.  "Mason, you see that jar of magic dust lying around anywhere?"


"That, brother dear, has been put away until further notice.  And by further notice, I mean never to be seen again."

"But..."

"But nothing, Seville.  That was a close call you had.  Magic dust is not something a cat like you should be messing around with."

"Awww.... MOUSES!" Seville complained, but not too loudly, for deep down, he knew the magic dust being out of his reach, was likely for the best.

Seville saves Christmas

Previously on Nerissa's Life...  Seville patted the reindeer on his back. "It's okay there, little buddy. Mason and I will figure somethin' out. We'll have you flyin' again, in no time."

"Now first things first," continued Seville.  "I need to check on the radioactivity of your reindeer dust.  Make sure it's behavin' like it's supposed to be behavin', you know?  Mason," he called out to his sister. "Go grab my radioactive reindeer tracking compass, would you?  It's in the teleportation device."

"But the teleportation device is parked - if you you want to call what you did, parking - up on the barn roof!" Mason exclaimed.  "I don't want to climb up there any more than is absolutely necessary.  I had my claws manicured for Christmas."

"FINE," and Seville turned on his tail.  "I'll go get it myself.  Be right back."

Moments later, Seville returned to find Mason, Rudolf, and Santa all staring at him in disbelief.

"Why are you all starin' at me?" asked Seville.  "Do I have freeze-dried salmon treat crumbs on my face or somethin'?"

"Well as a matter of fact, you do," Mason answered.  "But that's beside the point.  Seville, when you went to get your compass, you..."

"You..." began Rudolf.

"You sort of..." started Santa.

"You flew!" Mason finished.

"Well I was in a hurry so yeah, I was bein' speedy as speedy can be.  It's not like I flew up there like a reindeer or somethin'," Seville laughed.

Mason padded over to her brother.  Putting a paw on Seville's shoulder she whispered, "Actually, you did.  You flew up onto the roof exactly like a reindeer would do."

"I DID?" Seville cried. Dashing over to one of the barn's frosty windows, he rubbed the glass pane until it shone like the glass of a mirror.  Peering at his reflection he exclaimed, "Oh.  My. Mouses.  My nose is startin' to glow.  I'm... I'm...  I'm...  I'M TURNIN' INTO A REINDEER RIGHT BEFORE MY VERY EYES."

"Well I wouldn't go quite that far," stated Santa, "but your nose is developing a rather healthy glow."

"NO!!!" wailed Seville.  "How am I ever gonna explain this to the peep?  Will my fur-sibs still let me play in any catnip games?  This is a catastrophe of catastrophic proportions!!!"

Mason followed Seville over to the barn window, carrying the radioactive reindeer tracking compass in her paw.  "Seville, the meter is registering radioactivity through the roof, no pun intended.  If you're not careful, it's not just that nose of yours that will be glowing."

"Er-hmm..." began Rudolf, hesitantly.  "Seville, perhaps YOU could guide Santa's sleigh tonight.  Do you feel up to that task?"

"Are you kiddin' me, Rudolf?  I'm a cat, not a reindeer.  MOUSES!"  Seville sat back on his haunches.  "Let me think.  Let me think!  Let me...  Hmmm..   Wait a minute...  Then he...  Then I...   Then...  OH MY MOUSES.  I'VE GOT IT!  I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT THE MOUSES IS GOIN' ON HERE."

Santa, Rudolf, and Mason stared at Seville, expectantly.

"Lemme see that compass," and Seville snatched it from Mason's paw.  He passed it over Rudolf several times before doing the same, over himself.  "Yup, Yup.  Just as I thought.  MOUSES!"

"Well are you going to explain it to the rest of us?" asked Mason.

Seville glared at his sister.  "Hold your horses...  Or should that be reindeer?  You know, 'cause we're at the North Pole and all and...  No matter.  Here goes," and Seville explained that with Rudolf's cold, he had been sneezing a lot, and each time he sneezed, he was expelling radioactivity in greater quantities than what he normally lost due to typical shedding.  More importantly, he was expelling his radioactivity more quickly than his body could replenish it.  With an insufficient amount of radioactive reindeer dust, Rudolf was losing his ability to fly.

"But how is that you can fly now?" Santa asked Seville.

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Not as obvious as your nose," Mason said with a smirk.

Seville shot a cutting glance at Mason.  "Remember?  Remember how Rudolf sneezed on me? That sneeze must have covered me in radioactive reindeer dust!  It was only after that, that I started to fly."  Seville stamped a paw in the snow with such force that he gently floated upward, hovering about a foot in the air.  Mason grabbed him by the tail and pulled him back down.

"So if I stop sneezing, I'll be able to fly again?" Rudolf asked.

"Probably," answered Seville.  "But with that cold of yours, I don't think we can count on your not sneezing, any time soon."

"Ah...  Ah...  Ah...  ACHOO!" sneezed Rudolf.  "Point taken," he sniffed.

"I think what we need to do is make you sneeze even more."  Padding over to Rudolf, Seville used his paws to quickly estimate the reindeer's size and body weight. "Santa, I'm gonna need six wand toys with feathers.  And Mason, go ask Mrs. Claus for ground black pepper.  Half a pound should do, give or take an ounce.  And Rudolf, you just hang tight while I fly back up onto the roof and grab those spare eggbeater parts I brought with me."

Santa returned from his workshop with six feather wand toys in tow, and Mason returned from the Claus' house with several jars of pepper.  They found Seville piling snow into a water trough he and Rudolf had managed to drag out of the barn.  Once filled with snow, Seville blasted it with a blow torch.

"Where'd you get the torch?" asked Mason.

"I didn't pack only snacks," Seville replied.  "Brought this, just in case.  Along with these eggbeaters," and he pointed to a row of beaters standing upright in the snow, alongside the trough."

"But how are eggbeaters and wand toys and pepper going to allow me to fly again?" Rudolf queried.

"Hold on there, little buddy.  Mason, start sprinklin' those wand toys with the pepper.  Santa grab a couple of 'em and brush 'em up against Rudolf's nose."

"Ah... Ah... Ah..."  began Rudolf.

"That's it, Rudolf!  But when you sneeze, MAKE SURE you sneeze into the trough of water.  Mason, you and I need to tickle Rudolf's nose with the peppered wand toys, too."

"Achoo!  ACHOO!  ACHOO!!!" sneezed Rudolf.

"Excellent!" cried Seville.  "Now Rudolf, you keep on sneezin'.  Santa, you keep ticklin' Rudy's nose with the wand toys.  Apply more pepper if needed, okay?  Mason, you and I need to start dipping these eggbeaters into the water in the trough.  Swirl 'em around for a minute or so, makin' sure they gather up lots of radioactive reindeer dust, then stand 'em upright in the snow.  I need the radioactive water on 'em to freeze.  Rudolf?  Try sneezin' right on the treated eggbeaters for a bit, too.  Just for good measure."

Within the hour, Seville's eggbeaters were covered in a thick layer of icy frozen radioactive reindeer dust.  The cat stood back to admire his handiwork.  "That should do the trick.  Santa, I think you're pretty much good to go."

"All I need are these eggbeaters?" asked Santa.

"Yup," answered Seville.  "We'll attach 'em to your sleigh and they'll boost power to whatever radioactivity Rudolf still has left, allowin' you at least one trip 'round the world.  By the time you need to deliver prezzies again next year, Rudolf should be over that cold."

"I had better be," exclaimed Rudolf.  "ACHOO!"

"Bless you," said Mason, patting the reindeer on his back.

Santa stood, shaking his head.  "Looks like you've saved the day there, Seville."

"One might even say I saved Christmas, huh?" and Seville smiled at Santa.

"One might, indeed," Santa answered with a wink.

"Well it's time for you and me to get back home, Seville," declared Mason.  "We need to be in bed and asleep before midnight, so that when Santa arrives in Nova Scotia, he can leave us our presents under the tree."

"Make sure you dispose of those peppered up wand toys, okay?" Seville whispered in Santa's ear. "No cat is gonna want to play with 'em now."

Still covered in radioactive reindeer dust, Seville took Mason by the paw, and together, they flew up onto the barn roof. Revving up the teleporation device, Seville waved down at Santa.  "See you in a few hours!" he cried.

Santa waved back, up at the cats.  "Merry Christmas Seville!  Merry Christmas Mason!  Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a good night."

reindeer dust

"Hey Mason, whatcha got there?  Somethin' interestin'?  Anythin' involvin' the nip?"

"You tell me, Seville.  It's a letter addressed to you. Well it's a scroll, actually. I found it lying here in front of the fireplace.  I think it came down the chimney."

"You're kiddin'!"  Seville padded across the family room floor and gave the rolled up piece of paper a good sniff.  It smelled old and musty with a faint, underlying aroma of sugar cookies.

And Mason was right about the scroll being for him, for Seville the Cat was written across it in black lettering.  "And you say it came down the chimney?  Never knew Canada Post started deliverin' mail that way.  Never knew they were deliverin' scrolls now at all!  MOUSES!"

"Why don't you open it up and see who sent it?" Mason suggested.  "It might be important."

Seville unrolled the scroll very gingerly, as it looked so old, he thought it might disintegrate if handled roughly.  "Hmmm..."

Dear Seville the Cat.  Emergency situation at North Pole.  We need your help.  Please come straight away.  Love, Santa.

"Oh my mouses, Mason!  This here letter is from Santa Claus, himself.  At least I think it's from Santa Claus.  You know of any other guys goin' by the name of Santa, these days?"

Mason rolled her eyes.  "I think it's safe to assume it's from the Big Guy in Red, all right.  And by the sound of it, he's in trouble.  Shall I prepare the teleportation device for two?"  And before Seville could argue about it, she added, "I'm going with you.  In an emergency situation, eight paws are better than four."

"Fine," Seville sighed loudly.  "You can come along.  MASON, PREPARE THE TELEPORTATION DEVICE.  I'll go pack up some snacks.  The North Pole is a fair distance away and one should never teleport snackless.  MOUSES!"

The two cats busied themselves getting ready for their trip up north, and within minutes, they were soaring across the Atlantic provinces in a north-westerly direction, heading straight for the pole.

"Shoulda brought a scarf or somethin', I think," Seville shivered.

"Shoulda coulda woulda," muttered Mason.  "Next time, perhaps you'll think of bringing that instead of all these snacks."

"Wanna freeze-dried salmon treat?" Seville offered.

"Don't mind if I do," and Mason popped one into her mouth before reaching for a second.

"There it is!" Seville cried as he spotted Santa's workshop down below.  "I'll bring us down next to the reindeer barn."

"HOLD ON TIGHT!  THERE'S AN UPDRAFT OR SOMETHIN' GOIN' ON HERE," Seville hollered. "By gosh and by golly, between all the radioactive reindeer dust and Santa's magic flyin' around, weather patterns at the North Pole create a mousin' lot of turbulence.  Landin' can be dicey at best. We'll be lucky if I can land this here flyin' fryin' pan within..."

SPLAT!

The cats' teleportation device hit the snow with a thump, but their velocity was so great, they slid several meters, picking up speed on an icy patch.  Seville hoped the snowbank up ahead would bring them to a stop but instead, the frying pan glided up its side, and before they knew it, they were airborne once again.

"MASON!  WE'VE GOT RADIOACTIVE REINDEER DUST IN THE FORWARD EGGBEATER.    BRUSH SOME OF IT OFF SO I CAN LAND THIS THING!!!"

"THE DUST HAS FROZEN ONTO THE BEATER, SEVILLE.  I CAN'T BRUSH IT OFF!"

"MASON, TAKE THE CONTROLS!  KEEP 'ER STEADY.  I'LL GET RID OF THAT DUST.  I KNOW JUST WHAT TO DO."

Mason managed to circle back once Seville had dealt with the frozen radioactive dust.  "How did you get rid of it?" she queried.

"Did what I had to do," Seville answered smugly.  "Good thing I'm a good aim when I spray."

"Ewww..."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah...  Least we can land this thing now.  Let me at those controls."


Santa's magic was still creating a lot of turbulence, and Seville had a hard time keeping the teleportation device steady.  It veered unexpectedly to the right, and then swung back, hard.

Thump.  THUMP. THUMP.

"We're down.  We've landed.  Whew!  That there was a close one, for sure," Seville sighed with relief.

Mason peered over the edge of the device.  "Uh, Seville.  You landed on top of the barn."

"I did?  Oh.  Well uh...  Um...  Least I landed somewhere!  No matter.  Santa lands on top of roofs all the time.  It's kinda his thing."

"But you're not Santa Claus!" Mason cried, flinging her paws up in the air.

"No, he is!" and Seville smiled as he saw Santa approaching.  "Come on Mason.  Let's go ask him why we were summoned."

Seville jumped down from the barn roof, onto the snow below, with Mason at his heels.

"Are you sure?  Are you SURE?" Seville asked Santa.

"I'm as sure as sure can be, little guy."  Santa scratched behind one ear.  "And for the life of me, I can't figure out what to do about it.  Nor can Mrs. Claus.  You're our last hope, Seville.  And if you and your sister can't find an answer, there will be no Christmas for all the little boys and girls around the world."

"Not to mention the cats," Seville murmured under his breath.

"Or the cats, either," Santa nodded.

"But are you absolutely sure Rudolf even has the cold?" Mason asked.  "I know his nose is all red and puffy but doesn't it always look like that?

"Yeah," piped up Seville. "How is Rudolf's nose different from any other time?"

As if in answer, Rudolf sneezed, spraying radioactive reindeer dust all over Seville.

"YUCK!  Okay, okay, I get the picture.  You don't have to sneeze on me twice!  Rudolf, you've got a nasty cold, for sure."  Seville patted the reindeer on his back.  "It's okay there, little buddy.  Mason and I will figure somethin' out.  We'll have you flyin' again, in no time."

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

Be sure to return on Christmas Day for the conclusion of our 2016 Christmas adventure!

jingle bells

Jingle bells, Santa smells...

Wait a minute.  I CAN'T WRITE THAT! Cats have ended up on Santa's naughty list for far less.  MOUSES!

Oh hello there, my friends.  You caught me workin' on revising another Christmas song.

But now that I think about it, perhaps I should set that aside and work on the most important...

Hold on.  I sense inspiration coming.  Wait for it...

It's the most wonderful time of the year.

Scratch that.

It's the most important letter of the year.

Better.

That's right!  It's that time again. I need to write the most important letter of the year.  I need to write my letter to Santa Claus.  MOUSES!

You all have your letters written?  If not, it's time to get crackin' on 'em, for sure.  Tomorrow is the first day of December, and it won't be long now before Santa Claus is comin' to town.

Hmmm...  But I don't live in a town!  It's more like a dot on a map.  MOUSES!

No matter, Santa has come to my house every other year and I'm sure he'll come again this...

What's that Peepers?  Have I been good?

OF COURSE I'VE BEEN GOOD!

I think.

Let me get back to you 'bout that.

YES.  Yes, I have been very, very good.  I've been...

Pardon me Peepers?  What about what time?

That doesn't count.  I WAS PROVOKED.  MOUSES!

And that other time when I did what?

Peepers, have you met my fur-sibs?  Are you aware of how they tease and torment me?  And have you looked in a mirror lately?  Are you aware of how you...

Maybe I should just plead the fifth.

Bottom line is, it should come as no surprise to anyone, that sometimes, at my house, there is mischief.  MOUSES!

But back to that letter.


Dear Santa Claus,

Hello there.  Long time no see!  I trust you are well.  Mrs. Claus takin' good care of you?  Bakin' you lots of nip cookies and the like?  Hope so.

Anyway...

Anyway, I've been very, very good again this year.  Yes, there were a few indiscretions, here and there, but TRUST ME, they weren't my fault.  When you live with the peeps I live with, stuff happens.  Stuff happens a lot, and it's never my fault.  Honest.  MOUSES!

Which brings me to why I am writin'.

This year, all I want for Christmas is a nip mouse or two.  Maybe three.  As you probably know, it's always good to have some back-up nip mice when you live in a multi-cat household, as sometimes, a fur-sib will steal your nip mouse and slobber all over it.  Once a nip mouse has been slobbered all over by another cat, it's really never the same.  Believe me, I know.  MOUSES!

My fur-sibs Mason, Tess, Tobias, Rushton and Anderson would also like some nip mice for Christmas.  And if you could bring a couple for Dionysia, that would be great.  He or she - peeps STILL don't know if he's a boy or a girl - might spend Christmas morning with us and he'd feel left out if there was nothing under the tree with his name on it.  And perhaps an extra for Nosey-Neighbour-Cat?  You know, in case he visits too.

As per our contractual agreement signed in December of last year, I shall have the peep leave out a plate of nip sugar cookies for you.  Unless, of course, you would prefer cheddar-nip crackers this time 'round.  They're super delicious and I highly recommend them.  If you'd rather have the crackers, please let me know a couple days in advance.  There will be a nice pot of hot nip tea waiting for you, too.  You okay to fly your sleigh while nipped?  And what would the reindeer like?  If I remember correctly, last year they weren't too keen on the red-nosed carrot granola bars the peep made.  I TOLD her they'd rather have a sweet treat than stupid ol' granola.  MOUSES!

In case I don't actually see you on Christmas Eve, I'll wish you a Merry Christmas now.  Kisses and purrs to Mrs. Claus.  Please say hi to the elves for me.  All of them.  Yes, even the naughty ones. 

Love & Purrs,
Seville.


There!  That ought to do it.  I'll have the peep mail my letter first thing tomorrow morning.

Now...  Time to get busy revising some more songs.  MOUSES!

and in other news...

I threw up.  Yeah, I did. MOUSES!

I don't do a lot of horkin' blog posts.  In fact, this might be my very first one.  Thing is, I don't do a lot of horkin' so if I were relyin' upon horkin' incidents to induce the writing of blog posts, I wouldn't be writin' many posts on my blog.

Now if my Aunties Primrose or Blossom were the authors of Nerissa's Life, it would be an entirely different story. Those two have been horkin' on a regular basis for seventeen years.  MOUSES!

But my aunties are not the authors of this here blog.  I, Nerissa the Cat, am the sole author of Nerissa's Life.  I write all my own stuff.

Dare I say it?   Yeah, why not?  MOUSES!

I suppose the big news wasn't really that I threw up, though.  The big news was where and when I did it.  Let me explain...

The other night, I insisted upon sleepin' in my office.  I don't do that a lot but the other night, I was determined.   I begged and I begged and I begged and finally, Peep #1 relented.  I was in.  But why should I have to beg to sleep in my office?  It is my office.  Surely I have a right to sleep in it. Again I must say, MOUSES!

Actually, sleepin' in my office is not recommended on account of there bein' no litter box in there.   What's more, once the door is closed, access to the kitchen is lost which means, no snacks.  I do enjoy a midnight snack but figured I could forgo late-night snackin' on this one occasion.

Anywho...  sometime durin' the night, my tummy felt a little queasy and decided to act up like an actin' troupe doin' improvisational juggling gymnastics and you guessed it...  I threw up.

By mornin', I was feelin' fine.  I managed to enjoy my regular breakfast and perform my ritual mornin' garden inspection all before headin' back into my office to check my mail, visit with pals on Twitter and Facebook and finally, do a little work on my blog.

That was when Peep #1 called out to me sayin', "Nissy, I need to check my e-mail before you start blogging."   She sat down at my desk, swung her legs around the chair and emitted a loud cry. "Ewww!" could be heard throughout the land.  Did you hear it? Yeah, I'm bettin' you did.  MOUSES!

I looked at the peep.  The peep looked at me.  "Yeah, I threw up last night, Peepers.  Did I forget to mention that?" I asked, scratchin' behind my ear.  "Why did you go and put your rear paw in it?  You should learn to be more careful," I explained.

I shall not repeat the dialogue which ensued for fear of my blog bein' beeped out of existence by the foul language police.  MOUSES!

And in other news...  I'm past 3700 likes on my Facebook page now.  Ever so excited 'bout that. I'm really hopin' to make it to 5000 by Christmas.  I wonder if I could ask for likes when I write to Santa.  Hmmm...  I wonder if he can arrange that.  Probably.  Santa can arrange most things when he puts his mind to it.

And I have over 4000 pals on Twitter.  That's pretty excitin'.  Perhaps I should ask Santa to help me with that, as well.  Help me reach 5000.  I'll have to think about that.

Of course, I'm still hopin' for a Senate appointment.  Feel free to mention that fact to Prime Minister Stephen Harper if you're ever talkin' or tweetin' with him.  I'm sure he'd appreciate the reminder. #Niss4Senate for sure!

Oh, and nosey-neighbour-cat's sister is headin' off to law school, today.  That's a good thing, I think. If I ever get that Senate appointment, I might find myself in need of a lawyer.  It seems that a lot of 'em, do.

And speakin' of politics, I hear that some peeps at Toronto City Hall are gettin' into the discussion 'bout changin' the wordin' of our National Anthem.  Some peeps don't like the fact that it uses the word, "sons," thereby excludin' all the daughters.  What about the cats?

I asked Peep #1 what she thought about this.  As one of those daughters, I figured she'd have an opinion about it but I was wrong.  Peep #1 said, "Frankly, my dear Nissy, I don't give a mouse." Scratch that.  Actually, she just said she couldn't care less as she had bigger fish to fry.

I said in reply, "Fish?  Really?  You're fryin' fish?  Pass a plate on over to me, would ya?"  I never did get any of that fish.  MOUSES!

And the peep planted more plumeria seed.  Guess she did that instead of fryin' the fish.

But will the woman never learn?  Rockies are wreakin' havoc on the plumies she has and she goes and plants more seed.  Honestly, I've gotta wonder 'bout my peep.

On the other paw, I'm hard at work developin' a new feature for my blog. That's right, I have somethin' new in the works.  Unfortunately, there's somethin' else in those works, pluggin' them up.

You see, I'm havin' a tough time figurin' out how to make the technical stuff for this feature work.  I sure could do with some better IT support, you know? Peep #1 is pretty much useless and, I'm afraid, she's all I've got.  MOUSES!

Well that's all the news for today.  I think I've pretty much covered everything.  Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go see if the peep ever caught any of those bigger fish and if so, I'm gonna get her to fry some of 'em up.  I think she can probably handle that.