all about me

It's all about me.

Hmmm...

It's ALL about me.

Hmmm...

It's all about ME.

HMMM...

THE WHOLE DARN KIT AND CABOODLE IS ALL ABOUT ME.

Now that's a perfect title, for sure.  MOUSES!

But...

But everybody probably knew that already.

MOUSES!

Caboodle.  CABOODLE.  Heeheeheeheehee...  Sounds like a new kinda dog breed or somethin'.

Bwhahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!

Well that won't do!  Dog breeds have nothin' to do with me.

MOUSES!

Oh hello there, my friends.  I was just workin' on the book I'm writin'.  It's an autobiography of sorts. It's a book all about me.

And so far...  Well so far, I've...  I've uh...  Um...

So far, I have a workin' title.

I think.

MOUSES!

Who ever knew writin' a book could be this hard?  But once I get past this title thing, I'm pretty sure I'll be able to sail right on through.

You know, Peep #1 says writin' books is a lot harder than it looks.   She says it's a lot harder than sailin', for sure.  But what does she know?  I mean, she is just a peep.  MOUSES!

On the other paw, I did get kinda stuck on the title.

But seriously folks, who wouldn't wanna read my life story?  My life story after comin' to live with my peeps, I mean.  Before that, before comin' to live with the peeps, I didn't take any notes.

Not that I've been takin' notes since comin' to live with the peeps, either, but...

Pshaw!  Notes, shmotes.  Who needs notes?  I'll just make up what I don't remember.

What?  What's that, Peepers?  You can't make up stuff in an autobiography, you say?  You say that the stuff in an autobiography is supposed to be true?

SAYS WHO?

Oh yeah.  You.

MOUSES!

But then again, what do you know?  Do I need to repeat it?  You are just a peep.

I wonder if there's such a thing as a fictional autobiography.

Hmmm...

A fictional autobiography sounds a WHOLE LOT BETTER than a big ol' pack of lies.

Not that I would ever write a book about myself and fill it with lies.  I'm not that kinda cat, you see.  I am an honest kitty.  A kitty with integrity.  A kitty who states the facts.  The real facts, and nothin' but the facts, and certainly not those facts of an alternative kind.

Of course, a little fibbin' here and there might need to be done.  You know, to fill in the missin' parts of my life story.  Those missin' parts I don't remember.

And, of course, to make my life story sound better.

MOUSES!

What?  What's that, Peepers?  If I wanna write a book full of made-up stuff, I should write a novel, you say?

But would that novel be about me?  'Cause whatever kinda book I write, it needs to be a book ALL ABOUT ME.  I can't stress that bein' all about me bit, enough, you see.

BECAUSE.

BECAUSE!

Because I say so, that's why.

'CAUSE WHO WANTS TO READ A BOOK THAT'S NOT ABOUT ME?

Really?

That many, huh?

And not a single book in a single bookstore bein' sold these days was written about me?

Not even one?

Are you serious?

Are you SURE?

And people are still reading 'em?

AND ON PURPOSE?

Well I'll be.

All I can say is...

All I can say, if that truly is the case...

All I can say, if that truly is the case, THERE'S CLEARLY A REAL NEED OUT THERE, FOR CATS AND PEEPS TO START WRITIN' BOOKS ALL ABOUT ME.

MOUSES!

I cannot tell a lie

No Peepers, it was not I who...

On second thought, maybe it was.

Or maybe...

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

Darn it.  Foiled by my conscience again.

Peepers, I cannot tell a lie.

But an alternative fact?  Now THAT I might be able to do.  MOUSES!


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

But you know, when it comes down to it.  I mean, really down to it.  I mean like, really, really, really down to it, whether or not a cat is guilty of doin' an unmentionable act is often determined by whether or not there are any witnesses to the doin' of the said unmentionable act.  The question is not whether or not I committed the act but rather, whether or not you can prove I did.  MOUSES!

What?  What's that Peepers? You don't need no proof, you say?

Well I say, that's a double negative, meanin' that even you admit you do need proof after all, which would be my point, exactly.  MOUSES!

What?  What's that Peepers?

I DON'T HEAR YOU...

Silence of the peeps.  And we all know what that means.

Actually, it could mean one of two things.  Either the peep realizes I am in the right, or...

Or she's diggin' up evidence of my unmentionable act.  MOUSES!

HEY PEEPERS!  Whatcha doin' there ol' pal, ol' buddy, ol' peep?  Whatcha up to?  Whatcha...

ACTUALLY, the silence of the peeps can mean one of three things.  Either the peep realizes I am in the right, or she's diggin' up evidence of my unmentionable act, or...

Or she has fallen asleep.

Clearly, my unmentionable act was not unforgettable, at all.  MOUSES!

I know, I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin', forgettable as it may be, Seville has really done it this time.  And you're wonderin'...

JUST WHAT DID I DO?

Good question.  Take your pick!  Item number one, two, or three?

But truth be told, item number one, my special-special bein' scattered all over the kitchen floor, was not done by me.

At least not directly.

Okay, so I may have had a paw in it.  But not literally! I mean, it wasn't me, personally, who knocked over the bowl.  I may have caused someone else to knock the bowl over, but it was not my actual paw that did the knockin'.  MOUSES!

And as for item number two...  Well short of performin' a DNA test, I can't see how anyone is gonna prove I was the one who kicked all that litter out of the litter box.  And really and truly, at best, all that DNA test would prove would be that I had used the litter box prior to the kickin'.  It wouldn't prove that I had been the one doin' the kickin'.  Besides, it's not my fault the peeps weren't quick enough to get in there and clean up the box right after I had used it.

I mean, IF I had been the one who had used it.

You know what I mean.  MOUSES!

And all the evidence pointin' a paw at me for item number three is purely circumstantial.  Purely circumstantial in a very roundabout way.  In fact, it is so very circumstantial, in such a very roundabout way, that my even thinkin' about it, has me goin' in circles.  Goin' in circles, quite literally, chasin' my tail.

And if the peep had a tail she'd be chasin' hers, too.

But thank goodness she doesn't!  Have a tail, I mean, 'cause quite frankly, tails on peeps don't look good at all.  They can't pull the look off like we cats, you see.

For starters, HOW WOULD THEY WEAR PANTS?  MOUSES!

Can you imagine?  Can you imagine a bunch of pantless peeps runnin' about?

Of course, they could wear skirts.

Or dresses.

Or even kilts.

Whatever.

Anyway...

Anyway, about that item number three. Let's just say, it involved someone sprayin' somethin' that should never have been sprayed.

But I still say, IT WASN'T ME.

And without any evidence to the contrary, NO WAY, NO HOW, CAN IT BE PROVEN OTHERWISE.

MOUSES!

the retraction

OH MY MOUSES!  Get a grip woman, would ya? You'd think you were one of those Real Housewives of Beverly Hills or somethin'.  Now those women have REAL troubles, for sure. MOUSES!

I mean, if you can bicker over somethin' someone once did to you ages and ages ago -  for an entire evenin' - whatever that somethin' someone once did, it must have been pretty moused up, if you ask me.  MOUSES!

And speakin' of moused-up troubles, have you met my long-haired marmie brothers?

You know, I should have my own television show.  One of my very own.  Seriously, I should, 'cause I can bicker with the best of 'em, for sure.

I can do a pretty good smacky paw, too.

And speakin' of smacky-paws, have you met my long-haired marmie brothers?

Why just the other day, one of those long-haired marmie brothers of mine...

What's that, Andy?  Oh yeah...  You're right.  Sorry 'bout that.

Hey, what can I say?  Even a broken clock is right at least once a day.

But by broken clocks, I am not talkin' about me.  No sirree.  Nothing 'bout me is broken. MOUSES!

However, I will retract my last statement.  Yup, I will make a full retraction, forthwith.

Regardin' my insinuation that recent smacky-paw events occurring at my house involved my long-haired marmie brothers...  Well, they didn't.  I am hereby retractin' that statement, and issuing an apology to both Anderson and Rushton.  As I was reminded, about five minutes ago, said smacky-paw events were actually between myself and my sister Mason.  MOUSES!

What are you blatherin' on about now, Andy?  I apologised.  Are you satisfied with nothin'?

Nope, that there retraction on my blog is gonna have to do it.  It's not like I tweeted out the mistake to all and sundry on Twitter.  MOUSES!

Sundry.  Sundry.

It's an alternative spellin' for Sunday.

Kinda.  Sort of.  Okay, maybe not.  MOUSES!

Now where was I?

Oh yeah, I was talkin' about the smacky-paws.  The other day, I smacked my sister Mason real good, for sure.

Darn it.  I need to print another retraction.

Regardin' my last statement, what I should have said was, I smacked my sister Mason really well, for sure.

Whew!  That was close.  I could already hear the Grammar Police sirens off in the distance.

But back to those smacky-paws.  SHE STARTED IT!!!  'Nough said.  MOUSES!

What's that, Andy?  Why did Mason smacky-paw me in the first place, you ask?

Well...  Uh...  Actually...

Actually, I kinda think she was smackin' me back.

Pardon me, Andy?  Why did I smacky-paw Mason, causin' her to smacky-paw me back, you ask?

Well...  Uh...  Actually...

Let me get back to you 'bout that.

Oh yeah!  NOW I remember.  Mason made a comment 'bout me that I didn't like.  She did. Something 'bout my LORDIN' MY BLOG over the rest of you cats.  So I smacked her real good, for sure.

MOUSES!  Again, I meant, I smacked her really well, for sure.

That's better.  Another close call with those darned Grammar Police.  Next thing I know, I'll have the Merriam-Webster Dictionary on my tail.  MOUSES!

Say that again, Andy?  What does my lordin' my blog over the rest of you cats mean, you ask?

Well...  You know how I...

Um...  Never mind.  You don't need to know 'bout that.

But now that I think about it, I don't think Mason was the one who came up with the comment 'bout my lordin' my blog over the rest of you cats.  Truth be told, I think she was just repeatin' somethin' someone else said.  Somethin' someone with long-haired marmie-coloured fur said.

SMACK!!!

But on the other paw, now that I think about it a little more, maybe Mason was actually repeatin' somethin' the peep said.  Yeah, that was it.  Mason told me she heard Peep #1 say' somethin' about my lordin' my blog over the rest of you cats.

Hmmm...  But I can't smack a peep. That would be like bitin' the paw that feeds you and all that.  But I'm really, really, REALLY feelin' the urge to give someone a right good smack.   HMMM...

SMACK!!!

Sorry 'bout that Andy.  That was an alternative smack.  MOUSES!

growin' up

Growin' up, I always thought I was a peep.

I was talked to like a peep by all the other peeps.  I was always spoken to in full sentences, with lots and lots of words, for there was no baby kitty talk for me.

Believin' I was a peep, I did peep things.  Peep things like sittin' on peep chairs, and sleepin' on peep beds.  I watched television with peeps.  I read books with them, too.  And like all the other peeps, I enjoyed hobbies such as knittin' and gardenin' and the chasin' of balls.

GROWIN' UP, I WAS A PEEP.

Then one day I looked in the mirror, and I said to myself...

"What the mouses?  I don't look like a peep at all.  I'm WAY BETTER LOOKIN' than your typical peep."

So I said to the first peep, "Peepers, you know somethin'?  I think that maybe, instead of a peep, I'm actually a cat."

But would anyone believe me?

Well I got myself one of those DNA testin' thingies advertised on TV, and when the results came back, sure enough...

I, Seville the Cat, was in fact A CAT, and not a peep.  MOUSES!

SO NOW I DO CAT THINGS.  Cat things like...

Okay, so I still do all the same ol' things I did before.

Yeah, I do, 'cause it turns out, a lot of those peep things I used to do, are cat things, too.  Peep things like...

Peep things like growin' up, not knowin' who or what you are.  MOUSES!

I mean, how many peeps out there actually grow up thinkin' they're one thing, only to find out they're somethin' else entirely?

I MEAN, DOES THAT ACTUALLY HAPPEN?

Well they say so on TV so it must be true.  Right?

WRONG!  They say lots of stuff on TV, and lots of it turns out to be totally untrue.  Case in point: ALTERNATIVE FACTS.

Oh my gosh.  What if peeps growin' up, thought they were cats?  What if when growin' up, peeps were walkin' around on all fours...

Wait a minute.  That's called crawlin' and that's exactly what baby peeps do.

Hmmm...

Okay, so what if peeps ALREADY grown up thought they were cats, and were walkin' around on all fours?  What if they were walkin' around on all fours, mewin' at other peeps and sniffin' each others' tails?

Oh my mouses!  WHAT IF PEEPS HAD TAILS?

How on earth would they wear their pants?

MOUSES!

And speakin' of pants...

Growin' up, I was always told I was a pair of pants.

Now you see how ridiculous that sounds?

Yeah.

MOUSES!

But back to the topic of pants.

If while preparin' my din-dins, Peep #1 tells me to keep my pants on, but as a cat I don't wear any pants, how do I do that?

And if while attemptin' to clip my claws, Peep #1 says I have ants in my pants, but as a cat I don't wear any pants, how can that be?

But if I did wear pants, and I happened to have ants in said pants, would I not wanna remove 'em for sure?

And if those nonexistent ants in my nonexistent pants happened to be FIRE ants, would that make me a liar-liar wearin' pants that happened to be on fire?  And would I be spewin' alternative facts?

Hmmm...

Good thing I'm a cat and that cats wear pants.  MOUSES!

all aboard!

ALL ABOARD!

Chuga-chuga-chuga-chuga, chuga-chuga-chuga-chuga...

Attention all passengers:  The Crazy Train is arriving at gate three, and will be ready for departure in twenty-five minutes.  Please have your tickets ready for boarding.

Chuga-chuga-chuga-chuga, chuga-chuga-chuga-chuga...

Hey Peepers!  Your train is about to leave the station!!!

You had best boogie on over to gate three, right away.

Chuga-chuga-chuga-chuga, chuga-chuga-chuga-chuga...

And don't worry 'bout your ticket!  They sent you a lifelong pass in the mail.

MOUSES!

Hehehehehe..

But seriously folks, for my first peep, that train has ALREADY left the station.  That ship has already sailed.  That...

Well you get the picture, I am sure.  MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, I was tryin' to figure out what I should write about for today's blog post, and I said to myself, it has been a while since I mocked Peep #1 silly.

What's that, Peepers?  REALLY?

Did I mock you that recently?

Hmmm...

Well recently or not, everyone loves a good mockin' of my peep.

THEY DO TOO.  MOUSES!

I did a survey only the other day.

Okay, FINE.  I didn't actually do a survey.  That may have been a fact of an alternative nature. MOUSES!

But seriously Peepers, my readership does enjoy when I mock you.  I don't have to take surveys or anythin' like that.  I just know.  I just know on account of my bein' able to hear 'em laughin', from miles and miles away.  MOUSES!

So let's get down to business, shall we?

Mockin' point number one...

What's that, Peepers?  REALLY?

THERE IS SO.  MOUSES!

Peepers, mockin' points are so real things, and that is a REAL fact, for sure.

Yes, yes, I know.  Peeps usually talk about talkin' points, but just 'cause they're usually talkin' about talkin' points, doesn't mean mockin' points aren't real, too.  The popularity of talkin' points does not, in any way, diminish the existence of mockin' points.  Not one bit!

In fact, statistics show...

What's that, Peepers?  REALLY?

THEY DO SO.  MOUSES!

Well I don't quite KNOW where to find those statistics.

But my not bein' able to find 'em, doesn't mean they don't exist!

It just means they're good at bein' hidden, is all.  MOUSES!

This cat's confidential sources claim...

What's that, Peepers?  REALLY?

THEY DO NOT.  MOUSES!

Look Peepers, peeps have been claiming claims made by confidential sources for years upon years, and not once has anyone every doubted their credibility.

They have?

Awww....  MOUSES!

But those weren't my confidential sources.  MY confidential sources are real.

So anyway, my first mockin' point is...

What's that, Peepers?  REALLY?

IT IS NOT.  MOUSES!

Actual proof of your mockable activities and all 'round general mockability, is not necessary at all.  I don't need pictures.  I DON'T NEED FACTS.  I DON'T NEED...

What?  WHAT?  What is that you're blathering on about now?

Oh.

OH.

Hmmm...

Well....

Well folks, it looks like I won't be mockin' Peep #1 in this blog post after all.  It looks like I'll be mockin' her in a blog post, sometime in the future.  Uh... yeah.  A post to be written after I uh... You know...  After I dot all my 'i's and cross all my 't's, in order to avoid bein' sued.

But in the meantime...


HEY PEEPERS!  THE CRAZY TRAIN IS READY TO LEAVE!!!

Chuga-chuga-chuga-chuga, chuga-chuga-chuga-chuga...

did you hear?

Oh my mouses!

OH MY MOUSES!

Did you hear?

Accordin' to the CBC, the Canada Revenue Agency is now creepin' around Facebook, lookin' to see if peeps are payin' their income tax.

On everyone's mind is... HOW IS THIS GONNA AFFECT ME?

Scratch that.

On everyone's mind is...  HOW IS THIS GONNA AFFECT SEVILLE THE CAT?

I mean, am I, Seville the Cat, gonna have to stop postin' about my investment fund?  You know the one.  My froggy bank.  The froggy bank where I keep my money.  You know, the money I'm savin' up to invest in nip futures and the like.

There could be CRA peeps searchin' Facebook right now.  Searchin' and searchin' and SEARCHIN', lookin' to see if I'm payin' my taxes.  If I'm makin' a little money on the side.  If I'm spendin' more on nip than I've declared that I've even earned.

And if these CRA peeps are goin' around, readin' my page...

Well I sure do hope they take the time to paw me a like.  MOUSES!

Hmmm...

Just to be on the safe side, I had best make up some alternative facts.

I mean, dig up some dirt...

No, I mean, spread a few...

I mean...

Oh what the mouses.  I'm not sure WHAT I mean!  MOUSES!

Hmmm....

Of course, everyone is up in arms 'bout all this stuff. Oh yeah.  They're sayin' that what they post on Facebook is private, and meant only for family and friends, and how the CRA shouldn't be allowed to read it and...

Well I've got news for them.  NOTHIN' you post on Facebook is ever private.  NOTHIN' AT ALL!  Once you post it on-line, it's on-line FOREVER.

This is why I don't post pictures of myself diggin' through the trash, peein' on bushes, or washin' my bum in public.  MOUSES!

Not that I ever do do any of those things.

Do do...  Doo-doo...  Hehehehee...

Anyway, the bottom line is, if you don't want the whole world to know, don't post it on Facebook. MOUSES!

But back to the issue at paw.

Tell me, do you think I should put a big ol' post up on my page, lettin' the Canada Revenue Agency know that even though I've been savin' up for those nip futures, for a VERY LONG TIME, I have yet to save enough to buy any?

And, do you think I should put a big ol' post up on my page, lettin' the Canada Revenue Agency know that the reason I haven't saved up enough money in my froggy bank to buy any nip futures isn't 'cause nip futures are really expensive, but rather, 'cause I haven't saved up very much?   After all, my only source of income is an occasional quarter or two I find under a chesterfield cushion, and the money the peeps give me when they return bottles.

Oh, and then there was that time when I went on-line and sold Peep #1's...

Ummm...  Never mind.

But do you think I should put a big ol' post up on my page, lettin' the Canada Revenue Agency know that even when I do eventually save up enough money for some nip futures, I'm not quite sure what nip futures even are?

Should I point out to those CRA peeps that even though I am a highly intellectual cat, with sole ownership of the world rights to eggbeater-whisk time travelling teleportation technology, I..

WAIT A MINUTE....

Wait a mousie mousin' mouses minute.

I'm a cat.

AND CATS DON'T PAY INCOME TAX.

MOUSES!

Well, well, well...  Turns out, this stuff isn't gonna affect me at all, and do you know what?  I'm okay with that.