state of disrepair

"Hum-de-dum-de-dum-de-dum...  Hum-de-dum-de-do..." I sang softly, sidling up to Peep #1. "Oh Peepers, have you been in the front hall lately?  I think Mason pooped in your shoe."

"Mason did what?" the peep cried before dropping what she was doing and running into the hall.  In a flash, I was up on the kitchen island and had snagged a brick of cheese.  Heading into the family room, I heard the peep behind me saying, "No one pooped in my shoe, Seville."

"Did I say shoe?" I called back to her.  "I meant litter box.  Sorry," and I waved her off with a paw.

"You told the peep I pooped in her shoe?" Mason cried, paws placed firmly on her hips and looking rather indignant.

"Never mind that, Mason," Anderson told his sister before looking at me to ask, "Seville, did you get the cheese?"

"I got the cheese."

Hearing my answer, Rushton appeared in the room.  "Did someone say cheese?"

The four cats stared down at the brick of cheese before them and began to purr, loudly.

"Gosh that was good," I said, wiping my mouth with a paw.  "Time for a nap, I do believe." Anderson, Rushton and Mason nodded in agreement before heading off to their various favourite sleeping spots.  I, myself, jumped up onto the chesterfield and settled in for a snooze.

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

"Psst...  cat.  Psst...  CAT!  CAT!!!"

I opened one eye to see a little grey mouse before me, holding a clipboard.  "Awww...   MOUSES!" I cried.

"Your assistance is required," I was informed.

"My assistance is required.  My assistance is required?  Of course my assistance is required!" and I flung my front paws up in the air.  "What is it this time?  Someone lose their cheese?" I asked the mouse.

The little grey mouse stared back at me.  "Lose their cheese?" he asked.

"Never mind.  It's just an expression," I explained, rising to my paws.  "Lead the way oh royal mousiness.  Your desire is my command."

Again the little grey mouse stared blankly at me.  "Another expression!" I cried.  "Boy-oh-boy-oh-boy...  MOUSES!"

I watched as the little grey mouse surveyed the family room.  He quickly scribbled some notes on his clipboard and although I tried to get a glimpse of what he was writing, he held that board close to his chest.  Besides, the little I did see told me he was using cursive writing.  Might as well have been in secret code as cursive writing is no longer taught in Nova Scotian schools.  Clearly the Mouseland schools have recognized the shortsightedness of this.

Stopping in my tracks, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was different.  Was it the mouse? No, he looked like all the other Mouseland mice.  Was it the cheese?  Had the cheese I had recently snacked upon been off in some way?  I glanced around the room and saw Mason snoozing peacefully over on a chair.  Nothing had upset her tummy and she had eaten as much cheese as I. Maybe even more.  Clearly, the cheese had been okay.  So why did everything feel different in some way?

"Are you coming?" the mouse asked impatiently and I picked up my pace.  As we rounded the corner, ribbons of light swirled before my eyes as time and space morphed into what I had come to know as the great halls of Mouseland.

I could hear the sounds of construction going on in the back corner of the hall.  Several mice were wielding saws and hammers and goodness knows what else.  The commotion was both annoying and interesting at the same time and I made a mental note to investigate the first chance I got.

A second little grey mouse came running to the side of the mouse who had summoned me and was now whispering in his ear.  Together, they conferred over the notes the first mouse had taken at my house.  The second mouse nodded enthusiastically in agreement.  "Oh yes, yes...  Most definitely yes," I heard the second mouse say.  "That should do nicely."

I stuck my nose between the two mice before asking, "Anyone want to enlighten me as to what's going on?"

The second mouse coughed nervously before saying, "Er-hem...  We're going to need your condominium, Mr. Cat.  It is required."

"IT'S WHAT?" I cried.  "Wait a minute, I don't have a condominium.  I live in a house."  Then it came to me and I knew exactly what the mice were on about.  "You want my kitty condo.  Well no can do, my friends.  That condo belongs not just to me but to my fur-sibs as well.  Besides, moving it requires peep assistance.  No way for cats and mice to move it on their own.  It's too heavy, you see."

I sat back on my haunches, remembering the time Constance had taken a running leap, almost knocking the kitty condo down, thereby moving it without the aid of peeps but quickly decided not to mention that incident to the mice.  That condo was staying in my family room no matter what.

I stared at the mice and they stared right back.  "How come you guys need a condo, anyway?  No condos here in Mouseland?" I asked.

"Our main residence requires repairs," a third mouse answered as he approached.  "It is currently unfit for mouse occupancy."

"That's awful!" I cried.  "Look, I can certainly commiserate with you.  Every mouse needs a house but tell me, how did it get so far gone?  Hurricane?  Tornado?  Flood?  Some other unexpected disaster like a newly purchased high-powered vacuum with cyclonic speed?"

"None of the above," the first mouse sadly shook his head.  "Nothing so unforeseen.  It was simply neglect.  Years upon years of neglect.  Warnings were given.  Warnings were ignored.  Now the residence is practically falling apart.  We're making repairs as fast as we can but," and the mouse pointed to the far corner of the hall where I had noticed construction being done earlier, "as you can see, they won't be completed any time in the near future."

"WOW.  I feel for you, guys.  Really, I do.  Looks like you have a big old mess on our paws but," and I narrowed my eyes, "you're not getting my kitty condo and that's just how it is.  MOUSES!"

The great halls of Mouseland suddenly became deathly quiet and I'd swear you could hear a kitten's whisker fall on a deeply piled rug.

"What can I say, mice?  The condo belongs to us cats.  Besides, I'm not sure if you noticed or anything but it's not in all that great shape, either.  Needs some new carpeting in spots.  Got my paws crossed Santa will take care of that in a couple of months."

"Anyway," and I strode across the hall with an air of determination, "exactly who is to blame for your residence falling apart?  Someone must be.  Someone must be responsible for the neglect.  Make him fix it up.  After all, it's kind of HIS FAULT!"

At that, all the mice began to talk in unison but I couldn't make heads nor tails about what they were saying.  The mice who had been working in the construction area began constructing once more and I crept up behind them.  Suddenly, one turned toward me and put down the hammer he was using.

I peered at this new mouse and licked my lips with a grin.  I even made a sudden move towards him but alas, I couldn't spook him at all.  He stood his ground and smiled back at me, almost knowingly.

This mouse was different from the rest and that was for sure.  He had an air of authority about him and confidence, too, and yet not so overly confident as to be annoying if you know what I mean. He was clearly in charge but not bossing everyone around.

I approached closer, giving the air a good sniff.  "Excuse me, Sir, but you don't smell quite right for a mouse in charge of this place..  I don't smell any of that stinky ol' Gorgonzola cheese at all."  I inhaled even more deeply.  There was a cheesy smell all right but not...  "Cheddar!" I cried.  "You've been snacking on Canadian Cheddar.  Ten...  No...  Twelve-years-old.  Am I right?"

We were nose to nose now, this new mouse and I.  I gazed into his eyes and wondered, could this be The Big Cheese in disguise?

"Of course!" and I slapped a paw to my head.  "You changed your hair.  I should of known.  NICE. Yup, yup...  Very nice hair, indeed."

I turned to the little grey mouse who had summoned me earlier and whispered in his ear, "Get the name of his groomer for me, would you?  I could do with a groomer like that.  He's good."

"So why AM I here?" I asked.  "Anyone know?  Taking my kitty condo is a non-starter but I'll tell you what I will do.  I'll lend a paw with helping to fix up this residence of yours.  What needs to be done first?  Might I suggest you get rid of these Gorgonzola cheese crumbs lying about?"  I picked up a couple crumbs and tossed them out of my way.  "Crumbs like that are gonna stink up the place, for sure."

Grabbing a broom, I started sweeping the area and noticed the mouse with the nice hair heading back to his work, hammering supports together for what I assumed was part of a foundation.  "Seriously, mouse," I cried over to him.  "You really ought to make whoever refused to take care of this mess earlier, fix it up now.  After all, if the place hadn't been neglected for so long, it wouldn't have fallen into this state of disrepair."

And then all of a sudden, just for good measure and kind of on a whim, I cried out at the top of my lungs, the cry of my people.  "MOUSES!" I yelled.  I yelled as loudly as I could.

"Mice," I heard echoing from all four corners of the Mouseland hall.  "The plural of mouse is mice."

"Nice to hear the Grammar Mice Police are still with us," I smirked to myself.  "I was wondering when they'd make their presence known.  Was even kind of missing them, there, for a moment at least. Thought they might all have gone home."

Then back to work I went, sweeping Gorgonzola cheese crumbs off the Mouseland residence floor, surrounded by mice who were busily repairing damaged floors, walls and ceilings along with goodness knows what else.

stay the course!

"Psst...  CAT!"

I opened one eye. Standing before me was a little grey mouse. "Awww...  Not again. MOUSES!"

"So you're awake, Mr. Cat?"

I opened my other eye. "Well I am now.  Again I say, MOUSES!"

"Good.  Please follow me, Mr. Cat.  You assistance is required."

I stood on all four paws, stretching first my front legs and then my hind ones.  Letting out a big yawn, I glared at the little mouse standing before me, clutching his mouse-sized clipboard. "Seriously mouse, I was having a good dream involving cheesy nip pizzas before you woke me up. You need to stop doing that.  MOUSES!"

The little mouse whom I assumed to be M1 although, truth be told, looked identical to all the other mice of Mouseland, save one, raised an eyebrow.

"Every time I snack on cheese..."  I studied the mouse before me.  "Hmmm...  Maybe I should start snacking on mice instead."

Narrowing his eyes, M1 leaned forward to whisper, "We're not nearly as tasty as you might think. Stick with the cheese, Cat.  MOUSES!"  The little mouse's eyes grew wide as he covered his gaping mouth with both paws.  His mouse-sized clipboard clattered to the ground and off in the distance I heard the whispers of the Grammar Mice correcting him, "Mice.  The plural of mouse, is mice."

"Hah!  Even the mice are using MOUSES! now," I said with a smirk.  "Worth being awakened to hear that.  Lead the way, M1.  What's up?  What's going on in Mouseland now?  Cat got your cheese?  The Big Cheese doing cheesy stuff?  Is he still eating that cheese with the stink?"  M1 ignored my questions as I followed him out of the room.

Turning the corner, the air grew thick and hazy.  Neon-coloured swirls swirled before my eyes and there were flashes of blinding light.  All of a sudden, a wave of icy cold water splashed in my face. "What the mouses?"  I wiped the water away from my face with a paw but it left an odd taste in my mouth.  A taste akin to salt water and Gorgonzola cheese.  "That's new," I sputtered.  "What's up with the cheesy water, mouse?  And -  And are we on some kind of boat or something?  Where's the great hall of Mouseland?"

"We've entered the Gorgonzola Stream!" yelled the mouse, trying to be heard over the sound of waves crashing against a rocky shore.  "Hang on!  We're in for a rough ride."

My paws were slipping and sliding on what appeared to be the oily deck of a trawler of some sort. At the helm, I could see a larger mouse with a suspiciously long tail whom I immediately recognised as The Big Cheese.  "Where are we headed?" I yelled.

M1 was clinging for dear life to the guard rail of the trawler, his clipboard long gone.  "JUST HANG ON!" he cried back to me.  "We're caught in the stream.  If The Big Cheese can't steer us clear, we'll hit the shore!"

I could hear bells ringing in the distance and a deafening fog horn that sounded as if it was getting closer and closer by the minute but even louder than the foghorn was the sound of The Big Cheese's voice yelling, "STAY THE COURSE!  WE HAVE TO STAY THE COURSE!"

"Why did you bring me here, M1?" I yelled at the little grey mouse.  "We're headed towards those rocks.  You couldn't have chosen a worse time for a cruise."

"STAY THE COURSE!" The Big Cheese continued to yell.  I could see the ship's wheel spinning out of control beneath his paws.  M1 was right.  We were caught up in this Gorgonzola Stream - whatever that was - being taken to places unknown.

The foghorn was still blasting its warnings of the rocky shores ahead and bells were incessantly ringing off in the distance.  I desperately wanted to cover my ears with my paws but didn't dare release my grip of the trawler's guard rails.

I looked over my left shoulder.  Off in the distance there appeared to be a series of locks and further beyond that, a peaceful cove where the sun was shining and there was not a storm cloud in sight.  I briefly questioned the logistics of what I was seeing before realising that the laws of physics and whatnot in Mouseland differed from those in the rest of universe.

"Big Cheese!" I yelled at the top of my lungs.  "Steer to the left or the port side or whatever you want to call it.  There are peaceful waters over there."

"He can't hear you," little M1 yelled over to me.  "He hears nothing but the cries of the Gorgonzola Stream."

"Cries of the stream?  What are you talking about M1?  Is the stream alive or something?"

"No, it's just a stream.  A current, actually.  A powerful current of melted Gorgonzola cheese."

I shook my head in dismay and looked longingly over the port side of the ship.  If I could just make it to those locks.  "Are those locks Canadian Cheese Consortium infrastructure?" I asked M1.

"They're not what you think," the little mouse cried back.

"STAY THE COURSE!" the Big Cheese continued to cry.

"It's not water in those locks," little M1 explained.  "They're holding areas for various other cheese streams.  From when the Canadian Cheese Consortium was more diversified.  The Big Cheese has ignored them for ages."

There was no doubt in my mind that we needed out of this stream of Gorgonzola Cheese as its course was clearly unclear.  Dangerous and unacceptable and as The Big Cheese appeared to be either unwilling or incapable to steer us away, I knew I would have to take on the job, myself. Bravely letting go of the trawler's guard rail with one paw, I dug my claws into the oily deck. "It's going take me weeks to clean this mess off my paws," I growled to myself.  I managed to make my way a few feet across the deck before experiencing the sensation of being lifted into the air. Had the trawler collided with the shore?  Was I being tossed overboard?  "CAT OVERBOARD!" I cried, trying to be heard over the ringing of those stupid bells in the distance, the foghorn that was now proving to be quite annoying and the cries of The Big Cheese to stay the course.

"There you are, Seville. Time for bed.  Did you have a bedtime snack?" Peep #1 asked me.

"As a matter of fact, I helped myself to a little cheese earlier in the evening," I explained to the peep.  "Maybe I should have gone for the Temptations."

I glanced over the peep's shoulder and into the kitchen.  All evidence of Mouseland, the raging waters and the ship that was clearly off-course had disappeared but I knew with certainty that not only would the sun rise in the morning but that Mouseland would appear, once more, too.  Probably the next time I snacked on some cheese. MOUSES!

muzzled

"What to do, what to do..."  Lying on the floor of the sunroom, Seville busied himself by counting dust bunnies under a wicker chair. After running out of claws upon which to count them, he gazed about the room, looking for something else to occupy his time.  He watched a lone spider cross the floor in front of him and brought a heavy paw down on top of it, smiling with satisfaction.

"Oh great, Seville," commented Mason as she passed by the room.  "Now it's going to rain."

"Been raining since Sunday, Mason," Seville called after her.  "DON'T THINK KILLING ONE LITTLE SPIDER WILL MAKE A DIFFERENCE!"

Bored with dust bunny counting and spider hunting, Seville headed into the kitchen to see if there were any snacks lying about.  Finding nothing but dry kibble in the dishes, he jumped up onto the kitchen island.  "Maybe the peeps left something tasty up here," he thought aloud.

As luck would have it, Seville found a container of grated Parmesan cheese.  He flipped open the lid and knocked it on its side, causing its contents to spill out.  Licking a paw, he touched it to the cheese on the counter before drawing it up to his nose.  He breathed in heavily.  "Mmm...  reminds me a bit of Valerian Root," he whispered.

"Someone mention Valerian Root?" Mason called from the family room.

Seville ignored his sister.  Mason might have the hearing of a parabolic microphone but she also had the memory of a sieve.  She'd forget about the mention of Valerian Root soon enough.

Seville tasted the Parmesan cheese on his paw.  "Delicious," and with that, he licked up all that had spilt onto the island counter.

He then trotted into the family room and hopped up onto the kitty condo.  He would have liked to have taken a nap on the big chair but said chair was occupied by Anderson, who lay there, sound asleep and snoring like a bear.  Peep #1 was on the couch reading and the television droned on in the background.  Seville doubted he'd be able to nap with the noise of Andy's snores and the television but thought he'd give it a try, anyway.

"Er-hm."

Seville batted a paw at his ear.

"ER-HM."

He batted at his ear again and this time, opened one eye.  Before him stood a little grey mouse, clutching a clipboard to his chest.  Seville stared at the mouse.  The mouse stared back.

"Excuse me, Mr uh...  um...  Mr. Seville?  Is that your name?  You're Seville the Cat, brother of Nerissa?  Nerissa the Cat?  Is that correct?"

"I.  Don't.  Believe.  It."

The little grey mouse held out a paw.  "M1 is the name.  I'm here to brief you on the latest happenings in Mouseland.  Please follow me.  Your presence is required."

The mouse then turned on his heal, jumped down from the kitty condo and onto the arm of the big chair, walked right past Anderson who was still snoring, completely unaware of the presence of a mouse in the house, and then down to the floor, where he scampered across the room and into the kitchen.  Seville followed, obligingly.

"Whoa!" Seville cried, stopping dead in his tracks.  The air in what should have been the kitchen had turned thick with smoke and haze.  Coloured threads appeared before his eyes.  They swirled about his head, this way and that.  "Is this some sort of spacial-time distortion?  Like a wormhole?" he asked M1.

"Mouse hole, actually," answered M1.  "Please follow me.  I'm on a tight schedule."

"Mouse hole,  Makes sense," shrugged Seville.  "Then uh...  you must be from the Canadian Cheese Consortium, huh? Nissy told me all about the consortium and all the troubles you've been having with The Big Cheese and stuff." Seville paused for a moment before adding, "I never really believed in any of it before but now..."

"Oh, you can believe it, all right," said M1.  "We're here now.  Please take your muzzle and come this way."

"MUZZLE!" Seville cried with indignation.  "Muzzles are for dogs! MOUSES!"

"Mice," several mice cried, seemingly out of nowhere.  "The plural of mouse is mice."

"Grammar Mice.  Heard about them from Nissy, too.  MOUSES!" and he held up a paw before the Grammar Mice could reply.  "I know...  I know...  MICES!  No such word though, mice.  The word at paw is mouses.  MOUSES!"

The mice sitting in the great hall which Seville and M1 had entered looked at one another, obviously confused by the conversation.

"So what's with the muzzle?" Seville asked M1.

"The Big Cheese has informed us that all scientists, Consortium employees and um... Oh, I have the list somewhere here."  M1 glanced down at his clipboard and started flipping through papers. "All...  Well it doesn't really matter," explained M1.  "Bottom line is, you need to hold onto the muzzle."

"Scientists, huh?  Is this because of my research into Eggbeater-Whisk Time Travelling-Teleportation Physics?" Seville asked of M1.  "But Nissy worked on that, too, and Nissy never said NOTHIN' about wearing no muzzles."

Gasps could be heard from about the hall as Grammar Mice squeaked out cries of "Double negative!" and "He's using Fleaspeak!  HE'S USING FLEASPEAK!"  Seville rolled his eyes.

M1 looked sternly at Seville.  "There's no need for that kind of language here, Mr. Cat."

Seville looked down at his paws.  "FINE.  But I'm not wearing this muzzle and there's no way you can make me."

The little grey mouse nodded in agreement before adding, "The muzzle isn't required to be worn.  It's merely a symbol.  And it's not because of your teleportation physics thing.  It's because the last time Nerissa the Cat was here, he used the words..."

M1 scampered right over to Seville and climbed up on one of the big cat's paws.  Standing as high on his tippy-toes that a little mouse could stand, M1 beckoned for Seville to lower his head.

Seville eyed the mouse.  Was this some sort of trick?  Some sort of mousicidal entrapment?  An attempt to tempt him with a mousy snack?  He lowered his head while forcibly clamping his jaw firmly shut as to avoid temptation..

"Global Warming," M1 whispered under his breath.  "We are forbidden to use those words here or anywhere else within the Big Cheese's control."  M1's eyes darted back and forth, making sure no one had heard him but Seville.

Then all of a sudden, loud noises could be heard at the other end of the hall.  The Big Cheese was making an appearance.  Wearing a long golden robe, he glided down the centre of the hall, majestically.  Scurrying alongside him were two smaller mice, Masters Pomp and Circumstance, according to the name tags they wore.

Seville used his free front paw to lift M1 by the tail, up and off his other paw.  Setting him down on the floor he whispered, "What's going on?  What's with the...  the...  the whatever is going on over there?"

"Just watch and listen, Mr. Cat," said little M1.  "And remember.  Remember all that you see here today for sometime in the near future, you'll need to draw upon this information to solve the greatest unsolved mystery this land has ever known."

Seville's eyes grew wide in amazement.  "You mean, who let the dogs out?"

M1 slapped a paw to his forehead.  "Not that, cat.  I'm talking about the case your brother was working on.  The conspiracies at play in the Canadian Cheese Consortium.  Watch and listen, cat. One more piece of the puzzle lies before you."

The Big Cheese was less than a tail's length away from him now.  Seville could smell ripe cheese on his breath.  He wondered how Nissy had been able to resist the temptation to...

"THERE you are," and Peep #1 scooped Seville up and into her arms.  The kitchen lights shone brightly, causing him to squint his eyes.  "You wouldn't happen to know anything about this empty container of Parmesan cheese on the kitchen counter, would you?" the peep asked.

Seville blinked slowly and looked around.  The mice were all gone.  M1 and The Big Cheese were nowhere to be seen.  No sign of the Grammar Mice, either.

Pushing his head up against the peep's chin, Seville began to purr loudly.  He needed some time to think.  Think about all that he had seen in Mouseland and also to come up with an excuse for having eaten an entire container of Parmesan cheese.  An excuse or better yet, someone else to blame.  Hmmm... If he could track down just one of those mice...  Mice were known for their love of cheese.  Brilliant. "MOUSES!" he squealed with delight.

And as if coming from inside the walls of the house, Seville could hear cries of, "Mice.  The plural of mouse, is mice."

"Darned Grammar Mice," Seville muttered under his breath.  Luckily for him, the peep hadn't heard the mice over the loud noise of his purr.

the camembert affair

I was lying on the chesterfield in the family room, pondering some of life's great unanswered questions, with the television droning on in the background.

Right at the top of my questionable list was why I called the piece of furniture upon which I was lying a chesterfield and not a couch or a sofa. Who exactly was Chester and what did he grow in his fields?  If smart, he grew nip but truth be told, chesterfields aren't known for their intelligence.  I had no evidence at paw of this Chester fellow havin' grown nip in his fields, at all.  MOUSES!

Lyin' alongside me on said chesterfield was a piece of cheese.  I had spotted it earlier, while waitin' in the kitchen for Peep #1 to give me my meds, and snatched it before she knew it was missin'. Havin' hidden it safely away from any other cats, I now had my opportunity for an evenin' snack, in peace.  I gave it a sniff.  Cheddar.  Yum.  Mmm...

Down the hatch went the cheese and I curled up on the chesterfield and yawned the mightiest of yawns.  The television continued to drone on in the background.

I awoke with a start at the sound of a squeaky voice sayin', "Psst...  Cat!  Are you awake, Mr. Cat?"  Opening one eye, I spotted the intruder sitting next to me on the chesterfield.  He appeared to be the mouse I had previously met known as M1, although truth be told, the mice of Mouseland all look alike to me.

"There's more cheese in the kitchen," I said to the mouse before rolling over in an attempt to go back to sleep.

"I'm not looking for cheese, Mr. Cat.  I'm looking for you.  Your assistance is once again required."

"Awww...  MOUSES!" I cried before slowing standing up on my paws.  "If it isn't one thing, it's another..." I muttered as I followed M1 through the family room and into the kitchen that had mysteriously morphed into the Great Red Hall into which we had both travelled before.

There were rows upon rows of seats and in each seat sat a mouse, one looking just like the next. In futility, I shook my head to clear it.  Didn't work.  Dozens of mice still sat there, staring at me with mousy grins.  MOUSES!

Pursing my lips I asked little M1, "So what has the Big Cheese done this time?"

As if in answer to my question, I heard an approaching commotion.  Peering through the rows of mice and over to the back wall, I saw the Big Cheese, himself, being coaxed out of a cupboard where he had apparently been hiding.  "I'm coming!" the Big Cheese cried with indignation before snatching a piece of Gorgonzola from another mouse's paw.

I narrowed my eyes and looked coldly at the Big Cheese.  He faltered for just a moment before collecting himself.  "Don't look at me like that, Cat," he spat.  "Believe it or not, I was the one who called for your help."

My whiskers twitched suspiciously.  The Big Cheese asking for my help?  Somethin' smelled fishy, for sure.

"Don't look so surprised, Cat,"  said the Big Cheese. "Even I can see where your expertise in these matters might be warranted."

At that very moment the oddest thing happened.  A black limousine appeared right before my eyes, driving straight through the red hall at the greatest of speeds.  It screeched to a halt before the Big Cheese and me and out hopped several staffers carrying trays of crystal goblets filled with orange juice, I do believe.  One placed a goblet in my paw and I noticed that hanging from its stem was a tiny little tag.  Turning it over I saw a price of sixteen dollars. "Sixteen dollars for a glass of..."  I stopped myself short.  Sixteen dollars seemed like an awful lot for a glass of orange juice but then, I had no idea what the going rate of orange juice in Mouseland was.  Might actually be reasonable.  I didn't want to say anything more until I had all the facts.

Mesmerised, I watched the mice from the limo, walking down each of the rows, passing out glass after glass of orange juice to the mice of the great red hall.  My fascination was interrupted by the sound of the Big Cheese's voice.  Apparently he had been talking to me the entire time.  MOUSES!

"And I want you to investigate HER."  The Big Cheese pointed to a little female mouse in the back row.

I padded toward the little mouse who was trembling with fear.  Her whiskers were quivering and her paw shook uncontrollably as she held out some receipts.  "These are all I have," she sobbed.  "I didn't keep every one.  I was told I didn't have to.  Or was I not told that I did?"

But before I could reach said little mouse, my paws hit a wet patch and slid in opposite directions.  I found myself lying in a pool of sixteen-dollars-a-glass orange juice.  "Awww...  MOUSES!"

Several mice from the back row cried in unison, "Mice.  The plural of mouse, is mice, Mr. Cat."

Those darned grammar mice police.

I picked myself up and continued toward the back row but felt something soggy sticking to my now wet paws.  I lifted one only to find it covered in bits of broken cracker.  Looking around, I saw that there were broken crackers scattered all over the floor.  How had I not noticed them before?

There were broken crackers here and broken broken crackers there.  There were broken crackers just about everywhere.  And buckets of ice containing Camembert.  MOUSES!

Why was the Camembert on ice?  Why where the crackers broken?  And why-oh-why did no one else seem to care?

I could feel the Big Cheese pushing me forward towards the little mouse with the paw full of receipts.  I could feel his steely fingers prodding my spine.

Realising he wanted me to overlook the broken crackers and ice cold Camembert and knowing that I couldn't, I spun on my tail and pointed right back.

Before I could question the Big Cheese any further, the second strange sight of the evening occurred.  A pizza delivery car came hurtling through the red hall, driving right through the pool of orange juice and splashing mice in the front row.  "Free pizza!" cried the driver before doling out slices of pie.

"Do you have any with Parmesan and nip?" I asked, finding the aroma quite enticing.

"No nip pizza," he answered, "but all of our pies are partisan."

"No, Parmesan," I clarified.

"Yes, partisan," he replied.

"Never mind," I said, once more shaking my head.  "Thought we were talking 'bout cheeses and pies.  Sorry 'bout that.  MOUSES!"

And once more I heard the cries of those mice sittin' on benches way at the back.  "Mice!" They cried in unison.  "The plural of mouse is mice, Mr. Cat!"

I rolled my eyes, gettin' ready to give those grammar mice police a piece of my mind but decided instead to sit back on my haunches and enjoy a free piece of pie.  "Partisan pizza is actually quite tasty," I murmured, "but would be better with nip as everything would."

Then just as I was about to grab a second slice of pie, the lights in the family room turned on and Peep #1 stood before me.  "Time for bed," she informed me before scooping me up.  I looked around for the pizza man but alas, he was gone.

MOUSES!

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

Please remember that throughout the month of April, a portion of all sales of the book Rescued: The Stories of 12 Cats, Through Their Eyes will go to the wonderful Anjellicle Cats Rescue of New York, helpin' them to help save cats' lives.  You can purchase your very own copy at your local book store or on Amazon by clicking right HERE.  You'll wanna stock up for holiday gift-giving, for sure.  PURRS.

psst... CAT!

"Don't mind if I do!" I said, swipin' the piece of cheese out of Rushton's paw and gobbling it down, myself. "You're lactose intolerant, remember? Cheese contains lactose so you're not supposed to eat it.  I'm helpin' you out by takin' that cheese and before you say anything about my bein' lactose intolerant, too, remember that I'm not as intolerant as you."

I watched as my brother stomped away, angrily muttering about degrees of intolerance.  Then it was off' to the family room for me.  Time for a little nip mouse indulgence before bedtime.

"Psst....  CAT!"

"MOUSES!"  Yeah, seriously, right before my eyes there stood a mouse.  There was a mouse in my house.  He was looking at me in a weird kind of way but since he was a mouse, I assumed it to be his natural look.  Rollin' over, I went back to sleep.

"Psst...  CAT!" and I felt someone tugging on my whiskers.  "Wake up, cat.  Your assistance is required."

I opened one eye.  The mouse was still there.  I opened the other eye.  Yup, that mouse wasn't goin' anywhere.  Rising from my favourite napping spot de jour, I let out a big yawn.  The mouse cowered in fear.  Guess he thought I was gonna eat him or somethin'.  Instead, I just asked him what he wanted.

"Do you remember me, Sir?  Nerissa the Cat, Sir?  M1 is my name.  We met last year during all that nastiness regarding the great cheese conspiracy and those issues with the Canadian Cheese Consortium."

I nodded in recollection.  "Yup, I remember that.  You ever deal with that rat, The Big Cheese?"

"He's not a rat," answered M1.  He's really just a mouse like the rest of us although if you were to ask him, he'd probably disagree.  He does think rather highly of himself.  Thinks he's better than the rest of us, you see.  Doesn't realise he's just a mouse like you and me.  Well, like me," and I detected a slight flush of pink spreading across M1's cheeks.

M1 sat down and pulled out a ledger.  Pawing it over, I immediately saw the problem.  "MOUSES! That rat - I mean, mouse - is up to no good.  What's he playin' at now?" I questioned, although truth be told, I already had my answer.  "Take me to The Big Cheese, M1.  He's got some explainin' to do, for sure."

Just as before, M1 led me into my kitchen where space and time had morphed in weird and wonderful ways and the room that had once been the kitchen had turned into a great hall filled with tiny little mouse-sized chairs.  In each chair sat a mouse.  No, wait a minute.  Some of the chairs were empty.  I gazed around the room, counting the empty chairs.  Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen... "MOUSES!" I cried.  "It's true, you are missin' sixteen mice.  Now I just wanna point out that I had nothin' to do with that.  I filled up on cheese before visitin'."

M1 tapped me on the paw.  "Don't worry, Nerissa.  No one is blaming you.  We all know what really happened to the missing mice."

And I knew as well for I had carefully read the ledger M1 had previously shown me.  The missing mice had simply disappeared, one after another.  Some had retired.  Others, resigned.  They all had their reasons for leaving but after leaving, in order to keep the predestined balance of the Consortium...  well...  balanced, those mice should have been replaced.  Apparently, the great hall was experiencing a mouse shortage.  Who knew that was even possible?

I padded softly through the chamber, stopping where I could easily be seen by all.  I flicked my tail and accidentally took out one of the front row seats.  "Sorry 'bout that.  Room's a little small for a cat, if you know what I mean."  A number of mice snickered, nervously.

"Now bring me The Big Cheese," I demanded.

Several mice appeared before me, dragging a gigantic wheel of Gouda.

"Not that big cheese," I cried. "Although...  hold on a minute there.  I'll just have a little bite..."

The mice scattered.

"Not a bite of you.  Mouses you mice are a sensitive lot.  I'll just take a little bite of that cheese."

It was delicious.

Then before me appeared the mouse with the steely blue eyes and exceptionally long tail, otherwise known as The Big Cheese.  He narrowed his eyes and asked, "What do you want, cat?"

"That's Nerissa the Cat, to you, buddy.  We have to have a little talk about the sixteen missing members of the Cheese Consortium.  My question is, why are they missing?"

"You're asking me about missing mice?  Me?  A little ol' mouse?  REALLY?  Shouldn't you be asking your fellow cats where all the mice have gone?"

I lay down before The Big Cheese, striking my very best sphinx pose.  "Cats had nothing to do with those missing mice, my friend.  Don't try playin' cat and mouse games with me.  That's a game that never ends well for the mouse."  I let out a low growl and The Big Cheese looked furtively about the room, looking for somewhere to hide.  I grabbed him by the tail and held on.  The stink of Gorgonzola permeated the air about him.  He seriously needed to start eatin' more Cheddar.

"Now listen up, buddy.  I've seen the ledgers belonging to the Canadian Cheese Consortium and I know what you're doing.  Several of the cheese divisions are lackin' in representation.  I thought you liked appointing members to the Consortium.  Even goin' so far as to appoint mice who weren't even qualified to represent the divisions they were supposed to be representin'."

"That's true, I did.  But that was then and this is now.  Unfortunately, some of the mice I appointed caused some trouble.  So I thought to myself, why appoint any at all?  Things in the Consortium are going very nicely for me.  They're running quite smoothly.  Gorgonzola production is up.  Means of transporting the Gorgonzola are being worked out.  No one here has even tried to stop me.  The Consortium is working exactly as it should."

I narrowed my eyes and stared directly at the little mouse known as The Big Cheese.  "We talked about this the last time I visited, remember?  The Consortium doesn't serve you.  It serves the mice of Mouseland.  All of them.  Not just the Gorgonzola lovers.  Without equal representation, the Consortium cannot possibly work as it should.  It cannot and is not.  Somethin' needs to be done about that."

The Big Cheese narrowed his eyes and peered right at me.  Pompously puffing out his chest he said, "The Consortium is working exactly as I wish for it to work."

That's when I realised that what M1 had said earlier was true.  The Big Cheese had begun to think far too highly of himself.  He was nothin' more than a mouse and yet, for some reason, he thought he was the chosen one or somethin'.  Like he was better than the rest of the mice.  Clearly, The Big Cheese had gone squirrely.  I watched as he stuffed some more Gorgonzola into his mouth.

"Listen up, mouse," I began.  "I'm puttin' you on notice.  That's right, I, Nerissa the Cat, am puttin' you, The Big Cheese, on notice.  Either you make sure that all four divisions of the Canadian Cheese Consortium are represented equally or I will make it happen, myself."

"What are you going to do, cat?  Take over the Consortium?" and The Big Cheese grinned.

"It's a thought," I replied.  Our eyes met.  "If cats were to take over the Canadian Cheese Consortium..."

The Big Cheese tried to step back but I still had hold of his tail.  "Cats can't..." he sputtered.

"Cats can't what, Mr. Cheese?"

The Big Cheese cowered.

"Like I said, either you make sure all four divisions of the Consortium are fairly and equally represented or I will make it happen, for you."  Letting go of his tail, I turned to leave but not before adding, "And do somethin' about your breath, would you?  You're stinkin' of cheese.  MOUSES!"

"Mice," I heard, whispered in unison as those darned grammar mice of the great hall explained, "The plural of mouse, is mice."

MOUSES!

the planet of Doom

"Whatcha got there, Peepers?"  I sniffed at the peep's glass.  "Wine? Nah, I'll just stick to this here nip mouse, I think.  Can't beat a good nip mouse, you know.  This one is vintage 2013, I believe."  I breathed in, deeply. "Ahhh...  2013 was a great year for the nip."

"Oohhh...  but what's that?  Cheese? Don't mind if I do!" and I swiped a piece of cheese from the peep's plate.  It was Havarti.  Delicious.  "Pass me another piece of cheese, please.  That one.  No, not the teeny tiny one.  The bigger one over there.  Yes, that's the one."

After snackin' on the cheese, I settled in next to Peep #1, usin' my nip mouse for a pillow.  It really was a great mouse, only recently having been discovered hiding underneath the chesterfield in the living room.  Obviously, none of the other cats in the house had encountered this particular nip mouse before as no one had yet slobbered over it.  Any slobbering on this mouse would be done by none other than myself, Nerissa the Cat.  EXCELLENT.

I was in serious need of a little evening nap as my afternoon one had been rudely interrupted by the peep and her vacuuming.  Why-oh-why peeps insist upon vacuuming is beyond my comprehension. They're not even very good at it.  They vacuum once only to turn around and have to do it all over again a few days later.  You'd think they could get it right the first time.  They certainly get in enough practise.  MOUSES!

An hour or so later, I awoke from my nap to find the peeps had disappeared.  They were nowhere in sight.  Instead, standing before me, was a mouse.  A little mouse, carrying a clipboard.  He was watching me, intently.  Staring, in fact.  To be honest, it was a little unnerving.  MOUSES!

"Is that you, M24?" I asked.

"No, Sir," replied the mouse.  "That would be my brother.  I'm M99.  Common mistake."

I had to admit, they did all look alike.

"If you'd please follow me," M99 continued, "the Royal Canadian Mouseland Police request your assistance.

I padded after the little mouse, wondering just what The Big Cheese had done this time.  Clearly, if the Royal Canadian Mouseland Police were involved, The Big Cheese must be, as well.  That rat - I mean, mouse - was always stirrin' up trouble.  Stirrin' up trouble like one might stir up a big ol' pot of cheese fondue.  Hmmm...  I could really go for a little cheese fondue right about now, I thought to myself and wondered if The Big Cheese might have some on paw.

The mouse known as M99  led me into the great red chamber just as a mouse had led me there, once before. But this time, the rows upon rows of seats were empty.  "Where are all the mice?" I wondered aloud.

"Summer holidays," M99 replied.  "Everyone is gone for the summer except a few of us who stayed behind to help the police clean up this mess.

"I knew it!" I cried.  "The Big Cheese...  It's his mess right?  The Royal Canadian Mouseland Police are cleaning up the mess left behind by The Big Cheese and his cohorts, aren't they?"

"Not The Big Cheese, no.  It was aliens."

"ALIENS?" I cried in disbelief.  "MOUSES!"

"No, not mice...  ALIENS.  We believe they're from the Planet of Doom."  M99 pointed toward a group of Royal Canadian Mouseland Police officers gathered around a large, monolithic structure, rising out of the red carpet and standing at least twenty mice high.  "We've immobilised the alien ship but before we could do so, it beamed up valuable information that we need to retrieve.  All of the police records pertaining to the Great Canadian Cheese Conspiracy have been sucked up into that thing along with much of the evidence against The Big Cheese."

I peered into the clear canister, masquerading as the hold of a ship.  Sure enough, it was filled with a myriad of files stamped with the Royal Canadian Mouseland Police insignia.  There were also an awful lot of crumbs of cheese.

"Ummm..." I began, not really knowing how to break it to the mice.  "Guys, uh...  This isn't a spaceship from the Planet of Doom," I explained.  "This is Peep #1's vacuum.  I call it the 'cuum."

"The 'Cuum from the Planet of Doom?" the mice gasped in unison.

"No, I think she ordered it from the shopping channel or somethin'.  Anywho...   I guess what you need is for me to crack this thing open and retrieve your files, huh?"  I stood up on my hind paws so that I could better examine the mechanism used to unleash the canister.  "You said the 'cuum has been immobilised?"

One of the Royal Canadian Mouseland Police officers held up the cord to the 'cuum in reply.  It had been chewed right through.  Peep #1 was not gonna be happy when she found out about that.

I pressed the little red button and gave the canister a good hard shove.  It fell to the floor, spilling its contents all over the red carpet of the great hall.  Royal Canadian Mouseland Police officers scrambled about, collecting their files and the cheese crumb evidence.

"Well!" I exclaimed to little M99, "That was easy.  Anything else you need help with?" I asked.  "Any cheese fondue that might need to be eaten or somethin'?"

M99 watched the police officers as they finished up their task of clearin' up the mess left behind by the 'cuum from the supposed planet of Doom.  "Are there more of these 'cuums in existence?" he asked.  "Do we need to prepare for another invasion?"

"I don't think you need worry 'bout an alien invasion," I answered.  "You might have some explainin' to do when the peep finds out 'bout how someone chewed through the 'cuum's electrical cord, though."

As if on cue, I thought I heard Peep #1 cry aloud, "MOUSES!"

The mice disappeared before my very eyes but off in the distance I heard, whispered in unison, "Mice.  The plural of mouse, is mice."

MOUSES!
                                                     *****************************

By the way, VOTIN' for the Petties Awards is still goin' on.  You can VOTE once a day, EVERY DAY, from now until August 7th.  Won't you please vote for me?  I'd really appreciate it a lot. purrs

gotta stop eatin' cheese

Do I or don't I?  Hmmm...  No.  I shouldn't.   I turned my back to the plate of cheese on the kitchen counter. On the other paw...

Snatchin' a piece of cheese in my mouth, I jumped down from the counter before the peeps discovered I had been up there.

I set the piece of cheese down on the floor.  This was clearly a situation that necessitated a sober, second thought.

As a cat, thievery was not beneath me. No, a little thievery done in moderation was actually quite cat-like.  But the eating of cheese...  That was somethin' else, entirely.  I thought back to the cheese-snackin' induced dream I once had in which I met The Big Cheese himself, not to mention a whole bunch of other mice instructin' me on the plural form of mouse.  MOUSES!  Dare I risk another dream like that?  

Do I?  Don't I?  Hmmm...    Don't I?  Do I?  Well...  it was a very intererestin' dream...

I scarfed down the piece of cheese, washed my face with a paw and trotted back into the family room, settling in for a little nap.

It wasn't long before I sensed a pair of eyes watchin' me.  I opened one eye of my own and saw, starin' back at me, a mouse.  MOUSES!

"Er-hrm...   Nerissa?  Nerissa the Cat, Sir?  Remember me?  We met a few months ago.  M1 is the name," and the mouse extended a paw.  "We're in need of your assistance, once more."

I got up and followed the mouse into that great, red hall just as I had in my dream, once before. "The Great Canadian Cheese Conspiracy not settled, yet?" I asked the mouse.

"Actually, no," admitted little M1.  "The Royal Canadian Mouseland Police are still investigating that but we have another issue at paw.  An even greater one than before.  The very fabric of our society is at risk!"

"MOUSES!" I cried.

As I expected I would, I heard a small voice, echoing within the chamber, "Mice.  The plural of mouse, is mice."  Those darned grammar mice, I thought.

I stared at the many mice before me, looking for the one they called The Big Cheese.  Sure enough, there he was, chowing down on a chunk of Gorgonzola.  The ripe aroma tickled my nose and I sneezed.  Gosh that was stinky stuff.

As in my previous dream with the mice, the details at paw mysteriously and magically appeared in my mind.  I immediately knew of the troubles facing The Big Cheese and the mice working in the great hall.  I sat down, lifted a leg and began to wash my tail-end.

Finished with my washing, I looked around at the mice.  They all stared back at me with the exception of The Big Cheese who was still eating his Gorgonzola.  Finally, he looked up at me with those steely blue eyes.  "It's you," he said.

"Yes, it is I," I replied.  "Causing trouble once more, are we?"

The Big Cheese narrowed his eyes.  "It is not I making the trouble.  It's the mice.  Mice across the the land are complaining.  I keep telling them what they think but they're not listening.  Instead, they're complaining," he explained.

"Umm....  yeah....  'bout that," I began. "Let me just get this straight.  As the Big Cheese, you're expected to appoint mice to the Canadian Cheese Consortium, making sure there are always one hundred and five mice at any one time, correct?"  I waved away his response, "Don't bother answering 'til I finish.  You've been makin' appointments to the Consortium but at the very same time, you've been questioning the need for the Consortium in the first place, correct?  You've actually been tellin' the mice of the land that none of them want the Consortium, either.  And yet you continue to appoint appointees, most of whom appear to be your friends."

I stared pointedly at The Big Cheese, waitin' for a response.  He just sat there, eatin' more stinky cheese.

"Okay...." I began once more.  "From what I understand, the appointees to the Canadian Cheese Consortium are supposed to represent the various types of cheese bein' manufactured, sold and eaten by mice throughout the land.  They're supposed to represent the hard, semi-hard, semi-soft and soft cheese divisions, equally.  The Consortium was designed in this manner over a century ago to make sure that all types of cheese manufactured were bein' treated fairly and equally.  So that the most popular types didn't take over the whole Consortium, wreakin' havoc across Mouseland."

The Big Cheese continued to eat his stinky cheese.

"Yes, yes!" the other mice piped up in unison.  "That's how it works, exactly.  We can't have one cheese division takin' over the entire Consortium.  The only way to safeguard the rights of the less-eaten cheeses, is to allow them equal representation in the Consortium!"

The Big Cheese stopped chewin' on his cheese and glared at the mice around him.  "I get to appoint whomever I like to the Consortium.  I'M THE BIG CHEESE.  If I want to appoint all Gorgonzola lovers to the Consortium, I'm allowed to do just that.  It's kind of a tradition."

"Ah yes," I interrupted, "but you're havin' troubles with the Cheddar and Mozzarella factions, are you not?"

"Only because I haven't yet appointed enough of the Gorgonzolas!" cried The Big Cheese.

"MOUSES!  Can't you see what's wrong?" I asked The Big Cheese.  "First of all, you can't go around tellin' all the other mice what they think.  That's gonna cause nothin' but trouble."

"Secondly," I continued, "You have factions within the Consortium who appear to be workin' in ways they shouldn't be workin'.  The appointees are supposed to be representin' the various divisions of cheese.  They are NOT supposed to be representin' you!  And yet you continue to appoint Gorgonzola lovers to the Consortium, knowin' full well you're only appointin' your pals 'cause they all love Gorgonzola like you!"

"But that's what has always been done," and for just a moment, I thought I saw The Big Cheese falter.

"BUT THAT'S NOT WHAT WAS MEANT TO BE DONE!" I cried.

"Luckily for you,"  I told The Big Cheese, "I have a solution.  Why don't you let the leaders of each cheese division choose whom you should appoint.  They know best who would be able to represent them.  Ask them for suggestions and then you appoint whomever they suggest.  I'm sure there will be some Gorgonzola lovers in the bunch but there will also be some Cheddar and Mozzarella lovers, too.  You'll have a nice balance and they'll be representin' the mice they're supposed to represent. What's more, if there any problems," I added in a low voice, "you can always pawn the blame off on the divisional mice who made the suggestions."

"But if I don't appoint my friends to the Consortium, how can I guarantee that they'll do what I tell them to do?" asked The Big Cheese.

"Well...  Well you can't but really, that's the whole point of my suggestion," I answered with a sigh.

The Big Cheese stuffed another chunk of Gorgonzola into his mouth and with a cheese-chewin' muffled voice said, "THAT DOESN'T WORK FOR ME AT ALL."

With a cry of frustration I yelled, "MOUSES!"

I turned to the other mice and explained, "I'm afraid I can't do anythin' with him.  He's just not listenin'."

"Watch what you're saying there, cat," growled The Big Cheese.

I have got to stop eatin' cheese, I thought to myself.  Any more cheese-induced dreams like this and I'll drive myself silly.  MOUSES!

Awaking with a start I thought I heard a small voice off in the distance sayin', "Mice.  The plural form of mouse, is mice."

MOUSES!!!

the big cheese

The other night, I was feelin' a little peckish and said as much to the peep. "Go get something to eat," she suggested, so I trotted off into the kitchen lookin' for snacks.

There, I found a couple bowls of dry kibble.  Meah, not what I had in mind.  I sniffed around the bowls, thinkin' I might find a stray Treat Temptation or somethin' but I came up empty-pawed. Just as I was about to go back into the family room and tell Ol' Peepers I needed her assistance with the treat jar, I spotted a plate up on the island. Hmmm....  wonder what's up there, I thought to myself.  Moments later, I had my answer...  cheese.

You know, a lot of us cats are really into the cheese but not I.  There is at least one variety of food the peeps give us that contains cheese.  It's okay, I guess, but not my favourite. Then I thought to myself, the peeps eat all sorts of cheese and quite like it.  Perhaps I should give it another try. Turns out, cheese can be pretty tasty.

So after my snack, I figured I'd take a little nap but since it was gettin' pretty late, I just went to bed. Curled up on the floor in the family room, I drifted off to sleep, bein' serenaded by some news on the television while visions of sugar plums - I mean cheese - danced in my head.

When I awoke, the room was in total darkness.  The peeps had gone off to bed.  Mason was snoring.  Yes, snoring.  My sister, Mason, snores.  I could hear someone purring off in the distance.  Beatrice, I believe. None of that stuff was surprising but somethin' that was a little odd was the mouse sittin' up on his hind legs and starin' into my eyes.  MOUSES!

"Shhh!  You'll wake up the other cats," said the mouse.

I blinked.  Then I winked.  Then I blinked again.  I shook my head.  MOUSES!  We had a mouse in the house.  Unbelievable.

"Get over it," said the mouse, as if he knew exactly what I was thinking.  "Need your help.  Follow me."

So I followed the mouse out of the family room and into...  into...  Well, that route should have taken me into the kitchen but for some strange reason, it didn't.  Time and space had morphed or somethin' and I was suddenly in a completely unfamiliar room that I am sure had never existed in my house before that night.  A great hall of some kind, filled with row upon row of seats and in each seat, sat a mouse.  "MOUSES!" I cried.

"Mice," said a mouse.  "The plural of mouse is mice."

"And here was I, thinkin' it was snacks," said I to the mouse and said mouse nervously retreated behind some of his pals in the second row.

I looked directly at the first mouse who had requested my assistance and said, "So you want my help gettin' down to the bottom of this corruption at paw.  You're in need of my investigative skills, you say.  My enquiring mind.  Hmmm..."

"Your investigative skills are well-known.  You're a bit of a celebrity around these parts, Nerissa.  May I call you Nerissa?"

"Sure, why not?  You have a name?" I asked the mouse.  M1 was his answer and lookin' around, I had to wonder if the others were named M2, M3, M4 and so on.

"Er-hem..." and a little mouse in the first row spoke up gingerly.  "My name is M24, Sir.  I believe I can fill you in on the details.  This is the information the Royal Canadian Mouseland Police have collected so far," and he pointed to a stack of files, ten mice high. MOUSES!

I pawed through a few of the pages and oddly enough, after doin' so, knew the contents of each and every file.  "I will need to question this mouse you call The Big Cheese," I told the mice.

"He doesn't like to answer questions," piped up several mice in unison.

"Well you tell him that I, Nerissa the Cat, expect him to answer MINE."

At that very moment a large, rather pompous-looking mouse appeared in the room.  He slowly and deliberated walked over to an empty seat in the centre of the front row.  I sniffed the air as he walked past.  It smelled of cheese.

I narrowed my eyes and stared at this new mouse.  The mouse stared back at me with eyes of steely blue.  MOUSES! those eyes were unnerving.  I crouched low and wiggled my tail a little. That did the trick.  The mouse known as The Big Cheese sat down in his chair and fiddled with his tail nervously.  I eyed that tail.  Exceptionally long for a mouse, I thought to myself.  Little rat-like, in fact.  Hmmm...

I stood tall on all four paws, lookin' down at the mouse known as The Big Cheese.  I cleared my throat.  "My first question for you, Mr. Cheese, has nothing to do with the case at paw but I'm curious.  I'm curious as to why you are known as The Big Cheese when all the other mice have names that are...  well...  numbered."

"Because their days are numbered," was The Big Cheese's reply.

Jaws dropped and gasps were heard throughout the room.  I must admit, I let out a little gasp, myself.  Never in my nine lives had I heard such arrogance uttered from a mouse.  MOUSES!

"They're all disposable," continued The Big Cheese.  "If they work with me, they're safe but if not, they have to go to that big mousetrap in the sky."

"Work with you, Mr. Cheese?  Is that an admission that you have some sort of plan at paw?  A plan for the country's cheese supply?  Yes, that's right...  I, Nerissa the Cat, know all about the Great Canadian Cheese Conspiracy.  I know about the missing cheese.  I know about the alleged misuse of cheese.  I've read all the files."  I pounded the mouse with questions.  "Is this a plan which you have devised?  One of which you are in control?  One of which you, and only you, a mouse stinking of cheese, knows all the details?"

The Big Cheese's eyes darted back and forth like the eyes of a rat.  He was breaking.

"As I've said, I've examined all the files.  I've read all the reports.  Investigative mice have found evidence of a massive cover-up of misused cheese supplies from British Columbia to Newfoundland and back again.  There have been undeserving mice being allocated unfair portions of cheese, here, there and everywhere.  And every single mouse given extra cheese was working on a project known as Le Grand Fromage.  NOW JUST WHAT, MR. BIG CHEESE, DO YOU SUPPOSE IS THIS PROJECT, LE GRAND FROMAGE?"

The Big Cheese sank in his chair, melting like Mozzarella on a nip pizza.  Then he pulled himself together and cleared his throat.  "I do not know," he stated.  "I know nothing of this Grand Fromage project.  Others might," and his eyes darted furtively around the room, looking for someone else to blame.  "Nowhere in those files is there evidence of my guilt!"

"Of your guilt?" I repeated, quietly.  Your...  guilt, you say?  So you admit that you are guilty?"

"I ADMIT NOTHING!" he cried but before The Big Cheese could continue, the lights in the family room came on and Peep #1 walked over to me.

"What's going on in here?  she asked.  "Did I hear voices?  Come on Nissy," and she scooped me up in her arms.  "You come sleep with me tonight."

I squirmed and I wormed in her grasp, tryin' to get down and make my escape into the kitchen to find those mice. Then I realised that it all must have been a dream.  A cheese-induced dream caused by late-night cheese snackin' in conjunction with television news.  It was too bad the peep had awakened me when she had.  I was just gettin' to the good part of that dream. Darn it all.  MOUSES!

"Mice," I heard a little voice say, off in the distance.  "The plural of mouse is mice."

And with large eyes I cried, "MOUSES!"