it was double trouble, for sure

Double, double toil and trouble.

MOUSES!

Okay, so it was definitely double.

And probably trouble.

But toil?

Hmmm...

Well, as a cat, I simply don't.  I don't ever toil.  It's way too much trouble, for sure.

MOUSES!

Truth be told, rather than double, double toil and trouble; it was more like um...

Well...

Oh, I know!

Double, double puddle trouble.

MOUSES!

So the other day, it was rainin'.  And not rainin'.  Rainin' and not rainin'...

BOTH AT THE SAME TIME.

Can you believe it?

MOUSES!

That's right, my dear pals: the sun was shinin' and there were patches of blue sky, and a myriad of sunpuddles all over the place.

But at the very same time...

At the very same time, it was rainin', too.

And puddlin', to boot!

So outside on my driveway, I had choices galore.  I could bathe in a sunpuddle or drink from a puddle puddle.  Or I could bathe in a sunpuddle whilst tiltin' back my head, catchin' raindrops on my tongue.  Or I could...

Well you get the picture, I am sure.

BUT I'D NEVER SEEN ANYTHIN' LIKE IT, BEFORE.

Probably won't ever, again.

I mean, how often does that kinda thing happen?

Has it ever happened to any of you, my friends?

Bottom line is, we had sunny skies and sunpuddles and rain clouds with rain and water puddles...

ALL AT THE VERY SAME TIME.

MOUSES!

But actually, now that I think about it all...

Now that I give it a really good think...

Hmmm...

Maybe someone was castin' a weirdly, wonky ol' spell, after all.

Oh Peeee-perrrrrsssss....

MOUSES!

wasn't me

It wasn't me.  I swear!  I swear, it most definitely was not me.

MOUSES!

The orange cat doth protest too much.

WHAT?

Oh.

Awww....  MOUSES!

Well, you can just keep your peep-like peep comments to yourself there, ol' peep of mine, 'cause it really and truly wasn't me.

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, Saffron had a sore ear.

AND IT WASN'T BECAUSE OF ME.

MOUSES!

Seriously, it really wasn't.  It was some cat who did it, I am sure, but really and truly, it wasn't me.  It must have been some neighbourhood cat, methinks, 'cause if it wasn't me, who else could it be?

Actually, for all I know, Saffy might have done it to himself.  And how do we know that he didn't?  How?

MAYBE he gave himself a sore ear in order to FRAME me.  'Cause no one would ever think he would scratch his own ear, now, would they.

No one but me.

No one but me would ever THINK he would hurt his own ear, I mean.  Not that no one but me would actually hurt his ear in the first place.  But it would take a clever cat like me to realise he might do that to himself for sympathy or pity or...

OR TO FRAME ME.

Although truth be told, I don't think Saffy would actually do that.  I don't think he'd try to frame me, I mean.  And I don't think he'd scratch his own ear, either, although...

Although I did see him scratchin' at it the other day.

Hmmm...

Nah, I'm pretty sure that was AFTER he hurt his ear.

MOUSES!

And actually, it was on account of his scratchin' that Peepers realised he had a sore ear in the first place.  She knew he had been feelin' a little off, mind you.  But it had been super hot, and as cats get cranky when it's hot and muggy and icky and sticky and stuff, she figured he was a little out of sorts on account of all that.

Oh, and the fact that she tends to be a real touchy feely grabby kinda peep who likes to pick kitties up and kiss 'em and cuddle 'em and give 'em all sorts of hugs.

And there's only so much of that nonsense a kitty can take.

Before gettin' all cranky and stuff.

MOUSES!

So sometimes, when Peepers gets that look in her eye, we kitties like to make ourselves scarce and hang out in places where she can't reach us.

Which could very easily make a kitty appear to be a tad out of sorts.

MOUSES!

But back to the issue at paw.  Saffy wasn't feelin' his best and Peepers saw him scratchin' his ear.  And then all of a sudden, he was feelin' better and gettin' all lovey dovey and cuddly with her.  All of his own volition and everythin'!

But then...

But then Peepers gave him kisses on the top of his head and noticed a bit of a smell.

Yuk.

So yeah, he clearly had an ear that was sore.

But Peepers has now cleaned that ear all up and there's not even a trace of a smell and, like I said, Saffy is feelin' way better, for sure.

But the most important thing of all to remember...

Is that whomever it was who scratched Saffy's ear...

WAS MOST DEFINITELY NOT ME.

Don't say it, Peepers.  Don't even think it!  I am not protestin' too much so you can quit misquotin' your Shakespearean quotes, to be sure.

Not once did Shakespeare go 'round blamin' innocent marmalade cats.

And like I've already said...

IT WASN'T ME.

Wait 'til Saffy finds out there's an appointment marked on the calendar for him to see Dr T.

MOUSES!

twenty-four weeks

Shakespeare's got NOTHIN' on me.

MOUSES!

Yeah, yeah..   I know.  I know what you're thinkin'.  I know he's more famous, and all that.

But...

But he wasn't a cat.

MOUSES!

Can you imagine?  Can you IMAGINE how much greater Will would have been, had he been feline?

MOUSES!

I was doin' a little light readin' the other night, and discovered somethin' interestin'.  DID YOU KNOW that William Shakespeare turned to writin' poetry durin' the plague in the 1590s?

Yup, that's what he did.

I read it on the Internet so it must be true.

MOUSES!

They...

Now I have no idea who THEY are, but they seemed to know what they were talkin' about, and what they were sayin' fit my PURRsonal narrative, so I figured I'd go with what THEY said, without investigatin' any further.

So anyway...

So anyway, they said that Will...

I call him Will, on account of my bein' pretty sure that if he and I, Seville the Cat, were livin' at the same time, we'd be on a first name basis, you see.

MOUSES!

But like I was sayin'...

Like I was sayin', THEY said that Will turned to writin' poetry on account of all the theatres bein' shut down for about six months, due to The Plague.

So I figured, if Will turned to poetry durin' the plague, I should try my paw at a little poetry myself.  After all, Will didn't have to be cooped up in the same house as Peep #1 and Peep #2 for like an absolute eternity.

Like me.

MOUSES!

So after bein' stuck here with the peeps for like ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY MILLION, six hundred and thirty-six thousand, eight hundred cat seconds, I present to you...

MY sonnet.

I call it, Ode to a Puddle.

MOUSES!

Nothing is as fresh nor as sweet, my love,

as the divine taste of rain that has fall'n

on the path which lies there, next to my house.

The joyful rain that collects in puddles

is known to felines here and everywhere

as puddle water; water that puddles.

For the water that puddles is Heavn's gift

to all who appreciate the finer

things in life, like catnip and wand toys and

nip mice.  Oh, the sweet water of puddles.

It comes not from a tap nor a fountain.

'Tis not from anything paw or hand made.

The water that puddles is a sweet gift

from the sky above; pure freshness for me.

So what do you think?  Are you thinkin' what I'm thinkin?

'Cause I'm thinkin'...

I'm thinkin', Will would have been proud to have called me his contemporary.

Had I been alive in the sixteenth century, of course.

Actually, I think that might mean the same thing.

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.

a rose by any other name...

Okay, so they SAY a rose by any other name still smells as sweet, but...

But what if it's not really a rose?

WHAT if it's really a treat?

And WHAT if said treat turns out to not actually be a treat at all?

What if it is, in fact, nothin' more than some dry kibble your peep is tryin' to PASS OFF as treats, 'cause she's nothin' but a common wh...

Oh my mouses!  Gosh, I almost called the peep a...  Oohhh boy, I've really been watchin' WAY TOO MUCH late night TV.

Okay, so what if said rose is supposedly a treat, but ACTUALLY dry kibble your peep is passing off as treats, 'cause she's nothin' but a stupidy-dupity ol' cheapskate of a peep?

Huh?

What about THAT?

Would said dry kibble then smell as sweet as a rose?

Methinks...

NOT.

MOUSES!

So if any of you kitties out there have experienced the dry kibble treat switcheroo...

WHAT DID YOU DO?

'Cause seriously, inquirin' minds are needin' to know.

MOUSES!

Huh, and now that I'm thinkin' about it, just what-oh-what would Peep #1 do if I were to try to pass off...

Say...

I know!

What would she do if I were to try to pass off sauerkraut and liver on her, tellin' her it was some kinda extra special chocolate candy?

I'm thinkin' she probably wouldn't like that at all.

Or if I were to try to pass off...

Say...

I know!

What would she do if I were to try to pass off brussels spouts and sardines on her, tellin' her it was some kinda extra special, fancy schmancy pastry?

I'm thinkin' she probably wouldn't like that, either.

And what would she do if I were to try to pass off...

Wait a minute.

I like liver.

I like sardines, too.

Actually, now that I'm thinkin' about those things, I'm findin' myself somewhat hungry.  I could sure go for some liver and sardines right about now.  I could go for some liver and sardines, for sure!

I wish I could get the peep to pass off some liver and sardines on me.


But does she do that?  Offer me sardines and liver as a snack?  Does she?

OH NO...

INSTEAD, she just passes off cheap ol' dry kibble, sayin' it's treats, 'cause she's nothin' but a cheapskate of a common wh...

MOUSES!

Seriously, I have GOT to stop watchin' late night TV.

'twas the night before Christmas

'Twas the Night Before Christmas...

And all through the house...

*CRASH*

*BOOM*

*SMASH*

There were creatures a-stirrin'.

Perhaps a really, REALLY BIG mouse.

"Hey, that was no mouse, Mason.  That was me, your brother.  You know, me:  Seville the Cat.  MOUSES!"

"Why are you still up at this hour, Seville?  You KNOW Santa won't bring us our presents until we're all tucked in bed, asleep, dreamin' of..."

"Yeah, yeah...  I know the drill.  Santa won't come 'til we're all dreamin' of sugarplum, nipped up fairies and stuff.  MOUSES!"

"Then WHY are you still up?"

"Because I...  Uh...  Um...  Well..."

"Spit it out," demanded my sister.  So I did.  I spat the nip leaf I had been chewin' upon, right into her paw.  MOUSES!"

"Ewww..." and Mason wiped her paw on the sleeve of my nightshirt.

Wait a minute.  Nightshirt?  Sleeve?  I'm not wearin' any stupid ol' nightshirt with any stupid ol' sleeves.  MOUSES!

"Wake up, Sivvers.  Wake up!"

I could hear my brothers' voices, and I could feel someone tuggin' on my tail.  Givin' my head a good shake, I slowly sat up in the cat bed.  "What's goin' on?" I asked, not really wanting to know the answer, on account of my fearin' ANY answer from those two long-haired brotherly freaks of mine would be..  Well...  Weird.

To say the least.

MOUSES!

"There's someone in the living room," Andy whispered.

"And I think they're stealing things," added Rushton.

"WEASEL ALERT!" Mason yelled as she entered the room, brandishing what looked to be a weapon of some sort.  "We have weasels in the living room," she stated, "messing about with our tree.  WE'RE GOING TO DEFCON THREE."

Rolling my eyes, I groaned, "You really have to stop watchin' weird shows on TV, Mason.  MOUSES!"

"You'll change your tune about my studies of military manoeuvres when we're in full battle mode with the Weasel Syndicate," my sister said through gritted teeth.  "They're in there right now, stealing the presents Santa brought, no doubt.  We can't just sit back and do nothing, Seville.  We must protect what is ours!"

Not accustomed to bein' the voice of reason in my family, I spoke up anyway.  "And how do you know there are weasels in the livin' room, pray tell?"


"Did you not hear the crash?  AND THE BOOM?  AND THE SMASH?" Mason asked.

I scratched behind an ear with a hind leg.  "Come to think of it, I did.  Weasels made those noises, huh?  Are you SURE?"

"Of course I'm sure," Mason snapped.

"You SAW the weasels, and everythin'?"

"Well..."  Mason pawed at the ground.  "I didn't exactly SEE them.  But I heard them.  And when one hears the activity of weasels, one KNOWS they're up to no good.  You must know that, Seville.  You've dealt with the Weasel Syndicate before."

I nodded.  "True.  But..."

"But nothing.  COME ON," and she tossed me a...  To tell the truth, I have no idea what it was my sister tossed me.  It looked kinda like a spatula, but on the other paw, it could have been just a wooden spoon.

"And you two, too!" Mason cried, throwing Andy and Rushy kitchen implements as well.  Putting a small-sized stainless steel mixing bowl over her head, she peered out from under its rim.  "ONCE MORE UNTO THE BREACH, DEAR FRIENDS.  ONCE MORE!"

I shook my head in dismay at my thinkin'-she-was-a-king-named-Henry, sister.  Or was that Harry...  Whatever.

As quietly as we could while dragging various weaponized kitchen implements behind us, we four cats crept up to the living room door.  Mason had been right.  There WAS someone in there messing about with our stuff.  I could still hear the crashes and the booms, although they weren't nearly as loud as Mason had made 'em out to be.

"You look first," I hissed at my sister.  "You have the protective head gear."

Mason nodded, and peered around the entrance way.  Moments later, she turned back to us with a rather odd expression on her face.  Embarrassment, I wondered?

"It appears to be," coughed Mason.  "It seems..."

"What's up?" asked Rushy.  "How come your peachy cream furs are lookin' bright orange and red like us Marmies'?"

"Well..."  Mason looked about, furtively.

"Oh for mousin' out loud," I cried, headin' into the livin' room myself, brandishing my...  Yeah, I still wasn't sure if it was a wooden spatula or a funny lookin' spoon, but I figured whatever it was, it would do in a pinch.

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

"SEVILLE!" Peep #1 cried.

"WHY ARE YOU STILL AWAKE?" asked Peep #2.

"We're uh...  We were just...  UHHH..."

"We?  I only see you," and the first peep narrowed her eyes.

I looked over my shoulder.  MOUSES, there was no trace of my fur-sibs to be seen.  Those three cowardly siblings of mine had high-tailed it out of the area, the moment they sensed trouble.

"I uh...  I thought you were weasels," I confessed to the peeps.  "But in all fairness, I didn't come to that conclusion all by myself."

"And what are you doing with my cake decorating comb?" Peep #1 asked.

So THAT'S what it was.  Humph.  Who woulda guessed?  MOUSES!  I looked up at the peep.  "You want it back?"

"Probably not," she answered, shaking her head.

"So anyway...  Never mind 'bout what I'm doin' still up on Christmas Eve, Peepers.  What's more to the point is, WHAT ARE YOU TWO DOIN' STILL UP?  Huh?  HUH?  Tryin' to catch a glimpse of Santa or somethin'?  'Cause if you are, it's not gonna work.  The big guy in red won't come down the chimney 'til all of us are tucked into our beds.  DON'T YOU KNOW ANYTHIN', PEEPERS?  HUH?"

The peep looked down at her paws - I mean, feet -  and mumbled somethin' about my bein' correct.

"What was that, Peepers?  Didn't quite catch what you said.  YOU'RE GONNA HAVE TO SPEAK UP."

"You're RIGHT, Seville," she said.

"Of course I am," I smiled back.  "Now off to bed with you, you peeps," I told them.  "Off to bed and to sleep.  And uh...  Uh...  Um...   And a Very Merry Christmas to the both of you.  Let's plan on gettin' up at dawn to open prezzies, shall we?  Dawn sounds about right."  I turned and skedaddled it out of the room before either peep could complain 'bout gettin' up so early.  "Nighty night!" I cried from the hallway.  "You two had best get some sleep."

Moments later, once more tucked back in my cat bed, I softly whispered to all my friends from all around the world...

a rose by any other...

A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.

Who. The Mouses. Cares.

SERIOUSLY.  Who cares?  It's actually not a question.  It's more like a statement, for sure.

I mean...

Well, I mean...  I mean, it's like this:  Roses smell okay, I guess.  They smell okay if you like that kinda thing.  If you like the smell of roses, that is.

But me?  Well, I'm a cat.  And cats like other smelly things.

Actually, that didn't come out quite right.  What I meant to say was, we cats like way better smells than rose-like stinks.

MOUSES!

Had he been smart, that Shakespeare dude would have written about catnip.

The nip by any other name would smell as sweet, for sure.

Now THAT'S a quote worth repeatin'.

MOUSES!

But you know peeps: They NEVER makin' the effort to write about the important things in life.

MOUSES!

Now OBVIOUSLY, nip is one of the best smellin' things in the world.  It just is.  But there are some other things that smell pretty good, too.

Valerian root, for one.

Oohhh...  And stinky feet!

Okay, so those two smells are really one and the same.  But it's a VERY GOOD smell, for sure.

MOUSES!

Peeps, on the other paw, are all messed up when it comes to smells.  They like smells like...  Well...

Well like stinky ol' ROSES, I guess.

And oranges.  My gosh, if there ever was a stinkier stink than that of an orange, it would be...

It would probably be a lemon.

MOUSES!

You know, just the other day, Peep #1 complained 'bout my havin' tuna breath.  Can you believe it?

Yeah, that's right.  The one who thinks nothin' of stickin' her nose in a rose, complained about the smell of some tuna on my breath.  Like I said, CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?

Never have I heard such nonsense comin' from a lemony-orange, rose-sniffin'...

Well actually, Peep #1 says stupid stuff all the time, so perhaps I have heard such nonsense before.  But this incident made it onto the list of TOP TEN stupid things she has said, for sure.

MOUSES!

Let's just say, when it comes to smells, peeps have very little taste.

It is a generally accepted fact that we cats have WAY BETTER sniffin' abilities than peeps.  But the truth is, we have more than that.  It's not just that we can smell stuff better.  We also desire to smell better stuff.  Better stuff like nip and Valerian - ie. stinky feet - and uh...  Tuna.  MOUSES!

And actually, we, ourselves, smell better, too.  I mean, we cats smell great!  If we've been rollin' around in the nip, we might smell like nip, and if we've been rubbin' up against some Valerian root, we might be so fortunate as to smell like stinky feet.

But peeps?  HA!  They go 'round sprayin' themselves with bottles of stink, and end up smellin' like roses.

MOUSES!

And don't even get me started on that stinky, minty-fresh toothpaste they use.

Complainin' about my tuna breath, indeed.  I'd take tuna breath over peppermint, any day, for sure.

MOUSES!

The only part of a peep that ever smells decent is their feet, and ONLY 'cause the smell is often reminiscent of the heavenly perfume of Valerian root.

We cats, however, smell good from the tips of our ears, to the ends of our tails, and I HAVE PROOF of that, for sure.

Why, just the other day, my brother Anderson was tryin' to sniff my butt.

I, of course, gave him a good smacky-paw to the face, sending him reeling.

Okay, so MAYBE I actually fizzed a little and ran behind the couch, but it's the same thing, really.

REALLY!

Okay, so maybe not.  But my point is, you never see peeps sniffin' each others' butts, do you?

Thought not.

And that, my friends, is a good thing, 'cause in all honestly, no one ever wants to go 'round sniffin' rose-scented butts.

MOUSES!