Hmmm... I'm thinkin' that sounds kinda familiar in a familiar kind of way. I had best change that wording a bit.
Once upon a time...
Nope, that's been used, too. Hmph.
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Oh, hello there. You caught me workin' on that Next Great Canadian Novel of mine. I'm re-working the first three pages a bit. Actually, I'm re-working all three pages a bit. MOUSES!
Anyway, let me tell you 'bout the mouses and the mancats.
I know, I know. I know what you're thinkin'. You're thinkin', the plural of mouse is mice and to tell you the truth, you'd be right about that, but let's face it, mouses and mancats has a nice kind of ring to it, for sure.
So anyway, the other night... I mean, last night, my brother - who, by the way, is a mancat, even though he has been neutered - was dawdling a bit when Peep #1 was calling him inside. The rest of us were in the house, gettin' ready for bed, but there was not a trace of Rushy to be seen. That's when the peep went outside looking for him. In her nightie. MOUSES!
Yes my friends, it was a sight for sore eyes, for sure, but luckily for the peep, no one saw her but me. I, of course, watched all there was to see from a window 'cause you know, that's the kind of cat I am.
Well Peep #1 called and called and called for Rushy and eventually, about ten minutes later, she heard him mewing. He was coming from the backyard and he mewed to let her know. He mewed, he was walkin', he stopped walkin', he darted under the ladybug hedge, and when he finally reappeared, he was no longer mewing.
Rushton then started to approach the peep again, and he was almost beside her, when he opened his mouth to once again mew, and lo and behold... MOUSES!
That's right, my friends. A mouse popped out of Rushton's mouth. MOUSES!
Well the mouse was still alive, but not moving a lot, so Peep #1 went into full mouse-life-saving mode, even though it was after midnight and she was out there in nothin' but a nightdress. Of course, Rushton went into full mouse-catching mode, at the very same time.
The peep won out. She usually does in these matters. Don't know how she does it - what with her walkin' about, teetering, on only two paws and no tail to keep her balance - but somehow... Let me just say one thing though. The peep is not afraid of usin' the hose. More than once, one of us cats has fallen prey to the artificial rainfall thingy when after the local wildlife. MOUSES!
Anyway, Rushton was brought inside and the mouse was gently placed up in the raised bed amongst the Dianthus and evening-scented stocks, where he could recover from the shock of his bein' carried about in a cat's mouth, before scampering off home.
But you know...
Of course, I was lookin' for mice... I mean, mouses. No, No... I mean, mice. MOUSES!
Anyway... I was lookin' for mice the other night. Maybe three, four nights ago? It had been hot and sticky and icky all day, so when it finally started to cool off in the evening, I thought to myself, I think I'll go get a breath of fresh air, outside. And then I thought to myself, I wonder if there are any mice about, in these here parts.
I did have to wonder. I couldn't take finding a mouse for granted, 'cause like I said, we cats have pretty much moused the place out.
Well time got away from me and it started to get late. The sun had set and the air was finally oh-so-beautifully cool - well as cool as we were gonna get - and there were breezes and then...
And then I saw it. That's when I saw the peep out in her nightdress.
Yes, this walkin'-about-outside-in-a-nightie business is an all-too-frequent occurrence at my house.
Well I ignored her for a bit, 'cause you know, I didn't want anyone knowin' I knew her. But then she started callin' my name. It's kinda hard for a kitty to convince the neighbours, you don't know the peep wandering about outside in the garden in her nightie, embarrassing herself, when said embarrassing peep is callin' YOUR name. MOUSES!
So I called back to the peep, "Meow!"
Now unlike Rushton, I had not encountered any mice that night so I didn't have a mouse in my mouth, and when I mewed to the peep, nothin' fell out.
Well there I was at one end of the yard, with Ol' Peepers at the other, and she kept on callin' my name. Obviously, she didn't understand that when I said "Meow" I really meant, "Stop sayin' my name, woman! You're embarrassing me. MOUSES!"
Well she just kept on callin' and callin' and she had this little flashlight with her that she was shinin' in my direction, every now and then. Like she REALLY NEEDED to draw any more attention to herself. MOUSES!
Finally I gave up the ghost...
No, there were no actual ghosts although truth be told, I nearly did die of embarrassment.
So anyway, I finally relented and started approaching the peep. I mewed out to her - SEVERAL TIMES - "I'm comin', quit callin' my name. You're embarrassing me!" but apparently, the peep didn't hear me, 'cause she continued to call out my name. MOUSES!
When I finally got within arms' reach, I was scooped up, kissed and cuddled. Oh, the humiliation. But durin' said scooping, the flashlight fell to the ground which was good in a way, 'cause it meant less of a chance of anyone seein' me bein' carted around by a peep in her nightie after midnight, out in the yard.
Let me tell you, the mancats at my house have to be constantly on the lookout for nothin'-but-nightie-wearin' peeps, walkin' about outside, callin' out our names, and embarrassing us to no end. And let me tell you somethin' else. It's pretty darned hard to watch out for these sources of embarrassment while, at the same time, we're lookin' for mouses - I mean, mice - that may or may not have been foolish enough to wander into our yard. The only good thing I can say about all this, is that at least on the night when I was out, there were no mice about to see my embarrassment and humiliation. MOUSES!