cherry pickin' surgeons

It happened one Saturday mornin'.  About three weeks ago, I think. Yeah, that sounds about right.

Anywho...  There I was, mindin' my own business and, of course, keepin' a watchful eye on the peeps' business, too, 'cause we all know how they need watchin', when a truck pulled up.  It parked on the road, opposite my house.  I thought to myself, "Hmmm..."

Or perhaps it wasn't to myself that I thought the "Hmmm..." Perhaps I said it aloud 'cause I do believe that Peep #1 heard me.  Made her look out the window to see what was goin' on.

Peep #1 intercepted the guy from the truck at the front door.  They talked for a bit.  I listened in to their conversation, from a safe distance, of course.

Ol' Peepers informed me that the man was a tree surgeon and was gonna be operatin' on the big 'ol oak tree at the end of my driveway.

"A surgeon?" I asked.  "A surgeon for trees?  Is the oak tree finally gettin' neutered?"

Peep #1 just looked at me.  I believe she was somewhat confused.

Then I realised my mistake.  The oak tree couldn't be gettin' neutered.  It was probably gonna be spayed.  Perhaps the peeps had decided to deal with all the acorns it drops on our heads on an annual basis.

Still, the peep looked confused.  To tell you the truth, I was a little confused, myself.  Prior to this, I had never heard of surgeons makin' house calls.  Usually one has to go to the surgeon, when needin' somethin' done.  For example, when I had my knee bionicized last year, I had to go to the hospital.  The hospital didn't come to me.

"Is the tree gettin' a bionic limb?" I asked the peep.  Perhaps that was what the surgeon was intendin' to do.  Give the tree a bionic limb just like my doctor gave me a bionic knee.

Ol' Peepers was still in a state of confusion, from what I could tell.  She wasn't answerin' any of my questions.  Rather rude, if you ask me.  MOUSES!

Next thing I knew, two more trucks arrived on the scene.  They were rather strange and loud lookin' trucks.  Yes, they looked loud.  I know you might be wonderin' how that works but suffice it to say, as I found out later, I was right on that account.

The surgeon got all geared up.  Instead of a surgical mask, he donned a hard hat.  Interestin'... Then he climbed up onto one of the trucks and as if my magic, the truck extended an arm and transported him up into the air where he darted this way and that, in and amongst the branches of the oak tree.

I peered over at the truck with the magical arm, lookin' for signs of eggbeater teleportation technology but saw none.  Weird.  To be honest, to this day I have no idea what was powerin' the arm of that truck.  Peep #1 said the magical arm thingy was a cherry picker.

"A cherry picker!" I cried.  "Of all the stupid things.  I thought you said that guy was a doctor.  A doctor for trees.  Don't doctors go to school?  Does he not know that that's an oak tree?  Even I know that's an oak tree.  I also know that oak trees grow acorns.  They don't grow cherries.  What's he thinkin', lookin' to pick cherries in an oak tree?  Of all the moused up..."

I stopped ranting on account of the look on Ol' Peepers face.  The poor peep.  She was, at that moment, realising that she had hired a doctor for trees who didn't know the difference between a cherry and an oak.  A mouses moment, for sure.

Then things started gettin' noisy.  The surgeon was magically movin' in and around the branches of the tree and he had a saw goin'.  Not the quiet little hand saw that my peep uses when she gets in one of her lumberjackin' moods but rather, a big ol', noisy chain saw.  Limbs started droppin' from the sky.  Well actually, they were droppin' from the tree but you get my drift, I am sure.

Then the second truck came to life.  MOUSES! it was loud.  Peep #1 said it was a wood chipper.

"A chipper?" I asked.  "They plannin' on makin' french fries to go with the cherry pie?"  The cherry pie made with acorns instead of cherries on account of that bein' an oak tree, I muttered to myself.

Anywho...  It turned out that there were no french fries to be had.  The wood chipper was chippin' nothin' but wood.  I watched as one of the men put the fallen branches into the chipper's mouth.  It appeared to be hungry.  I hoped it wasn't craving cherry pie.

I also made a mental note to keep a very far distance from anythin' lookin' even remotely like that wood chipper.  Looked kind of dangerous, if you ask me.

Plus, it was loud.  Louder than the surgeon's chain saw.  Loudest thing I've ever heard in my life... almost.  Peep #1's caterwaulin' comes pretty darned close.  Not quite sure which is more obnoxious soundin', though.  The jury is still out on that one.

And speakin' of loud, obnoxious noises.  I noticed that the surgeon and his...  ummm...  nurses? Anywho...  All the men workin' with the magical acorn-pickin' cherry picker and wood chippin' truck... They were all wearin' some heavy duty ear thingies to protect their ears from the noise of the saw and the chipper.  I have GOT to get myself a cat-sized pair of those.  They sure would come in handy when Peep #1 practises her caterwaulin' at home.  MOUSES!

And a cat-sized hard hat would come in handy, too.  Somethin' to protect my head from fallin' acorns from the oak tree.  The peep doesn't need one.  Her head is already hard enough.

At one point, the sound of the chipper subsided and the surgeon who, by the way, was still up in the tree, called out to Ol' Peepers who had momentarily stepped outside.  He was askin' if it was okay to remove one of the large limbs that hangs over the driveway.

I hollered, "NO!!!  That's my favourite branch!"

The peep and the surgeon ignored me, however.  The man said it was about eighty percent dead and Ol' Peepers said he should go ahead and take it.

I loved that branch.  That was my favourite branch of all.  It was almost completely horizontal and perfect for doin' the tight-rope walk.  Back and forth I would walk across that branch.  Best branch ever for doin' that sort of thing, not to mention, just hangin' out.

Oh sure, it was a high branch.  Really high, but still, excellent for tight-rope walkin'.  The squirrels liked to run around on it, too.  Now the squirrels and I have to settle for the other branch that hangs over the driveway which isn't quite as horizontal and not nearly so good.  Awww...  MOUSES!

Peep #1 later tried to console me about the loss of my favourite branch, pointing out that I hadn't actually been up there in months and months.  She reminded me that I hadn't been up there since my knee surgery last year.  I have been climbin' trees and whatnot but I haven't actually been up on that one particular branch.

Use it or lose it, is what they say.  Who knew they were talkin' about a branch in a tree?  MOUSES!

But thinkin' more about it, I hadn't been up on that branch since before my surgery in which I had my knee bionicized.  Remember that?  Remember when I tore all the ligaments in my knee and had to have them replaced with bionic ones?  The doctor said, at the time, I likely fell out of a tree.

MOUSES!  Could that have been the tree out of which I fell?  Could that branch have been the culprit?  It was really high.  Like...  really, REALLY high.  Fallin' from there onto the driveway could very well have done some damage.

At the time of my injury, I never told the peeps how it happened.  I never said a word.  And then I sort of put the whole thing out of my mind 'cause, to be honest, it was pretty sore and I just didn't like thinkin' about it.  Not to mention the fact that the pain killers were makin' me loopy.  Loopier than when I'm nipped!

But maybe that was where my accident happened and maybe, subconsciously, I had been avoidin' that branch ever since.

Nah...  Crazy that is.  Crazier than a squirrel makin' nut pies, kind of crazy.  Had I fallen out of my favourite branch, I would have remembered that. Everyone knows the real reason I hadn't been up there, as of late.  The real reason was that the grey squirrels had infiltrated the oak tree and commandeered that large, horizontal branch.  They were usin' it as their base camp.  MOUSES!

I don't know if you're all familiar with grey squirrels or not but let me tell you, they're big and they're mean. They're the biggest squirrels I have ever seen and they tease and taunt us cats like it's a national pastime or somethin'.  Sometimes, they even throw acorns at us from up in that tree.  And they only throw the icky acorns 'cause they keep all the best ones for themselves, to use in their nut pies.  Yeah, they like to bake nut pies.  They do it all the time. And you know, they're crazy.  MOUSES!

the great fancy feast grilled chicken pizza caper

The following is a true story.  At least, it's as true as I can remember... what with my bein' doped up on pain meds following my surgery and all. 

It was a week ago today when I had my knee surgery.  Remember 'bout that?  I had to have bionic ligaments implanted in my right knee 'cause I tore all of my originals doing a terribly courageous act, like saving the world or somethin', I am sure.

I slept most of that first night.  I dreamt of food.  I was hungry, you see.  Hadn't been allowed to eat the night before.  I missed breakfast and lunch.  By the time my surgery was over, even though I was sleeping, my tummy was doin' the Rumba with a pawful of growls thrown in for good measure.  That's right...  the Rumba.  I was swayin' my hips but goin' easy on the knees 'cause of my right one bein' broken and only newly repaired.  I can still hear the music in my head.  One, two, three, four, five, six...  One, two, three, four, five, six...  Ooch...  Ouch...  One, two, three, four, five, six...  You know the drill.

Still feelin' a little groggy the next morning, I decided to go on a hunger strike.  That was a bad decision 'cause I was already hungry.  Note to self...  always have a good meal before startin' a hunger strike.  Nevertheless, I told my doctor - in no uncertain terms - that I wanted to go home and I wouldn't eat until I saw my peeps.  The doctor just gave me a hug and a kiss, told me I was doin' well, and left me alone...  peepless.  MOUSES!

I looked at the plate of food sittin' next to my hospital bed.  It smelled kind of good but there was no way I was gonna give in.  I had made my demands and I was stickin' to 'em.  My tummy thought otherwise.  Next thing I knew, my tummy started doin' the Salsa.  Unfortunately for me, I don't like Salsa.  It has onions, you see.  Cats don't like onions.

I was strong willed.  I held out all day long and never ate a bite.  Day one of my hunger strike was over but I didn't know if I could make it through another night of my ballroom dancin' tummy.

I looked out the window of my hospital room and saw the pizza place next door.  If I meowed at the top of my lungs, would they me?  Probably not.  So near and yet so far.  An inkling of a plan started to form in my mind.  I knew what I needed to do and decided that I was gonna do it!

In the time it takes a mouse to snatch a chunk of cheese...  Cheese...  Mmmm...  Must get back on track... 

In the time it takes a mouse to snatch a chunk of cheese, I had my laptop out and turned on.  I immediately pressed this, then that, then clicked a few more keys.  I had to work speedily and yet, quietly, 'cause there were nurses and whatnot wandering throughout the halls.  I knew that if any of them discovered me up and typing, I'd be in trouble for sure.

And it wasn't just the nurses I was tryin' to evade.  What if a dance instructor happened upon my hackin' into the system?  What if the dance instructor was there to teach my tummy new steps?  That dance instructor would put a stop to my pizza orderin' days, for sure, even though I had already decided that my tummy was not gonna be doin' the Rumba or the Salsa or anything else other than digesting my pizza. 

I typed in the password to the hospital's wireless and started hacking.  That's right...   I hacked into their system!  Once there, I did a little search for pizza places and easily found the one next door.  I placed my order.

"One extra-large Fancy Feast Grilled Chicken pizza, please.  NO ONIONS!"  My order had been placed.  Hmmm...  delivery or pick-up?  Had to go with delivery, for obvious reasons.  Delivery address...  "Next door.  Pass it through the window with the paw wavin' at you through the bars."  Of course I had to pay for my pizza but that part was easy.  I was already in the hospital's system.  Easy enough to add the pizza to the list of charges on my bill.  Peeps would never notice.  They would just be happy to have me home.  And if they did notice, what were they gonna do about it?  By the time they got the bill, the pizza would already be in my tummy.  And believe-you-me, I needed a little somethin' for my tummy right about then.  No more dancin' for this kitty.

I heard the people in the hallway say their goodbyes to one another and saw the lights turnin' off.  I continued to work by the glow of my computer screen.  Tweeted a few short tweets and said hello to some pals on Facebook.

It was around then that I heard a door open and shut outside.  My dinner was on its way.  Yoo-hoo!  YOO-HOO!  I hobbled over to the window, propped it up and extended a paw through the bars.  "Over here," I hissed.

The nice man gingerly passed the pizza box through the bars.  It was like he had never delivered a pizza to a hospital inmate before or something.  MOUSES!  I snatched the box and tossed it onto my bed.  "Thanks, pal," I meowed and in one bionic leap, jumped onto the bed.  The landing kind of hurt but I was in a desperate state.  Desperate for something to eat.  I had the box open in a flash and devoured my pizza.  The best part was the Fancy Feast Grilled Chicken, of course, but I was hungrier than a hungry hippo so I even ate the crust.  It was delicious.

I fell asleep right there and then.  Never moved a whisker all night long.  No more dance steps goin' on in this kitty's tummy.  This kitty's tummy was happy as a clam.  Clams...  Mmmm...  Must stay on track.

Anywho...  I was rudely awakened the next morning by the arrival of the hospital staff.  I looked down on my bed and saw the empty pizza box lying there.  Oh-oh...  The door to my room opened and my doctor peered in.  I grabbed that pizza box and flung it past her head.  Not to hit her, mind you.  Just to get rid of the evidence. 

My doctor looked at the pizza box lying on the floor next to her feet.  "What's this?" she asked. 

"I don't know," I answered as innocently as only a cat can.  "Must have been left there last night by some hungry dog or something.  Dogs are quite partial to pizza, you know."

My doctor pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes.  You know something?  I kind of think that maybe she didn't believe me.  Weird, huh?  I mean...  I'm a cat and we cats are always believable, right?  Of course we are.  But just in case, I made a mental note to hack back into the hospital's database and change the billing of the pizza to some dog's account.  That would take care of things, for sure.  I would bill the pizza to a patient named Rover or Barkley or Lassie or anything doggie like that.  And that's just what I did.