and so it begins

And so it begins.

Because it's September.

Again.

MOUSES!

I know, I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin' it's the beginnin' of colour-me-pumpkin-spice-just-about-everythin'.

Again.

MOUSES!

And yeah, it probably is.  Peeps do like their pumpkin spice lattes and things.  But to tell you the truth...

To tell you the truth...

To tell you the truth, I'm not talking 'bout pumpkin' spice anythin'.

MOUSES!

So what AM I talkin' about, you ask?

Well...

Well, Peepers' birthday is later this month.  Like, REALLY later this month.  Close to the end.  It's still over three weeks away.  But apparently...

But apparently...

Apparently, it's a thing, now, to celebrate birthdays for an entire month and not just a day.

And so it begins.

Because it's September.

Again.

Accordin' to some peeps - aka Peepers - September is her birthday MONTH and we're gonna be celebratin' ALL. MONTH. LONG.

Seems like we celebrated her birthday only last year.

MOUSES!

But all this birthday month stuff has gotten me thinkin'...

'Cause thinkin' is somethin' I do.

It has gotten me thinkin' that if September is Peepers' birthday month, then the whole month of December should be MINE.  My Gotcha Day month, that is.  And Saffy's will be January.  And between the two of us cats...

Between Saffron and me...

Between Saffron and me, the whole, entire season of meteorological winter - 'cause we may as well add February into the mix lest it begin to feel left out - should be in celebration of me.

Oh, and Saffy, of course.

'CAUSE CELEBRATIN' ME...

I mean, 'CAUSE CELEBRATIN' CATS IS SOMETHIN' EVERYONE SHOULD DO.

Especially good kitties like me.

MOUSES!

the aftermath

So let me tell you 'bout the aftermath of...

Hmm...  Perhaps aftermath is too strong of a word.  It does make it sound like there was total disaster and mayhem and the like.

On the other paw...

On the other paw, there was total disaster and mayhem and the like.  So aftermath, it is.

MOUSES!

Okay, so perhaps there was no actual mayhem.

Nope, still goin' with aftermath, my friends.

MOUSES!

So we'll start again.  Let me tell you 'bout the aftermath of the birthday celebrations on Wednesday.

Firstly, there was cake.  Yes, there was cake.  Birthday cake, to be exact.  But said birthday cake was not the birthday cake, I, Seville the Cat, was expectin' for MY birthday.  No sirree.  Nope, that ol' birthday cake was carrot cake, and do you know somethin', my friends?

Do you?

Well in case you don't, carrot cake contains carrots.  And I, Seville the Cat, don't like carrots, you see.  So obviously, it wasn't a very appropriate cake to serve on MY birthday.

Which was disastrous, for sure.

And it gets worse!

Not only did the stupid cake contain carrots, which I don't like, but it DIDN'T contain any of the things I wanted to have in MY birthday cake.

Good things.

Things like salmon and tuna and shrimpy kinda things.

MOUSES!

And not only that...

And not only that, but the cream cheese icin' was the most stupid cream cheese icin' I ever did see.  Not a single ounce of catnip in that icin'.  Not one!  Nope, not even one.

I'm tellin' ya, I don't know who baked that cake but whomever it was did an awful, disastrous job of it, for sure.

Scratch that.  I know exactly who baked that cake.  And her name would be Peepers.

Stupid peep baked a stupid cake.

AND THERE WAS NO BIRTHDAY CAKE FOR ME.

On MY birthday.

So you see?  Aftermath is the appropriate term to be used, for sure.

MOUSES!

And don't even get me started on the lack of prezzies with MY name.

'Course, I was able to circumvent that little issue with a little switcheroo of the tags.  Peepers was x'd out and replaced with Seville.

So that particular disaster was avoided.

'Cause one birthday aftermath a year is more than enough, for me.

Don't you agree?

MOUSES!

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

And remember:

IF IN DOUBT,

DON'T. GO. OUT.

Continue to practice SOCIAL DISTANCIN' measures

AND KEEP WASHIN' YOUR PAWS.

MOUSES!

Remember to mask up, too.

twenty-eight weeks

Well here we are, twenty-eight weeks into this ol' pandemic thingy.  One hundred and fifty-two MILLION, four hundred and nine thousand, six hundred cat seconds into it, and...

And do you know how we're celebratin'?

We're celebratin' by Peep #1 havin' a birthday!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY PEEPERS!  HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

How does it feel to be one hundred and twenty-two million years old?

You're NOT?

Hmmm...  Hold on a sec.  Let me check my math.

Okay.  I've got it sorted now.  I forgot to carry the nine.  How does it feel to be three hundred and seven million years old, Peepers?  HOW DOES IT FEEL?

What, AGAIN with the complaints 'bout my math?

Never pays to argue with an old geezer, I guess.

Geezerette?

Whatever.

MOUSES!

So anyway, I've got it all planned out.  I'm makin' Peepers a special birthday dinner today, in honour of her special day.  First I'll open up a tin of salmon and shrimp feasts of the fancy, then...

Yeah, yeah, I know.  I know Peepers is a vegetarian and doesn't eat those kinds of things.

That just leaves all the more for me.

MOUSES!

Then after we..  I mean, I polish off the appetiser, I'll open up a tin of the fanciest of the feasts beef.  I was gonna go with the chopped grill selection, on account of my lovin'...  Um...  On account of it bein' such a wonderful variety that I enjoy and thought the peep might, too, but the word "chopped" sounded kinda common, you know?  And today IS Peepers' birthday, so I figured beef flavour might be better.  I'm gonna serve it with a creamy nip sauce which'll fancy it right up for her.

MOUSES!

Yeah, yeah...  I know!  I know all 'bout Peepers bein' a vegetarian.  Didn't we discuss this before?

So anyway, after the salmon and shrimp appetiser and beef flavoured entree, for dessert, I have catnip ice cream.  Mmmm...  It's gonna be absolutely delicious, I am sure.

Yup, I made that ol' ice cream all by myself with my very own catnip.  I even milked the cow and everythin'.

OKAY, so I didn't actually milk the cow, on account of my not havin' a cow to milk.

I don't even know any cows.

MOUSES!

But nevertheless, I DID make the ice cream.

And it's gonna be DELICIOUS, I tell you.  DELICIOUS!

I added tuna water for extra flavour.

MOUSES!

And what if the peep doesn't like catnip ice cream, you ask?

Well...

WELL THEN, ALL THE MORE FOR ME!

MOUSES!

And for her prezzie, I'm givin' Peepers the gift of my company.  Yup, I'm gonna let her tickle my tummy and give me chin scritches, and everythin'.  Might even let her scratch behind my ears!

After all, I do like all those things.

SO I'M THINKIN' PEEPERS WILL LOVE BEIN' ABLE TO DO THEM FOR ME.

I know, I know...  I know you simply can't get over what a thoughtful kitty I am, can you.

Not a question.  Statement of fact.

MOUSES!

So what do all you cats out there do for YOUR peeps on their birthdays?  Same as me?  I highly recommend it, for sure.

MOUSES!

 ***********************

And remember:

IF IN DOUBT,

DON'T. GO. OUT.

Continue to practice SOCIAL DISTANCIN' measures

AND KEEP WASHIN' YOUR PAWS.

MOUSES!

Remember to mask up, too.

happy birthday!

Happy Birthday to me...

Happy Birthday to me...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY dear ME...

Happy Birthday...

To...

Ooooooooo...

M...

What?  What's that, Peepers?  What's that you're babblin' on about now?

It is so.

Yes it is.

Is too.

Okay, so maybe it isn't.

MOUSES!

But Peepers, as a Canadian Kitty, Canada Day SHOULD be about me.  If Canada is havin' a birthday, I, Seville the Cat - a kitty who is one hundred percent and TOTALLY Canadian - should be havin'...

It's not the same thing, you say, huh?

Awww...  MOUSES!

*sighs*

*sighs again but more LOUDLY*

Fine.

So Ms. Know-it-all-Peeperoni-Peepers, tell me this:  Is there a special birthday song for Canada on Canada Day?

The National Anthem?

Nah, that can't be right.  Peeps sing the Canadian National Anthem three hundred and sixty-five days of the year.  Three hundred and sixty-six, in years divisible by four.  The National Anthem can't be used as a birthday song, too.  I mean, no one can have a birthday every day of the year.  That's just about the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard.

Boy-oh-boy, Peepers.  You sure do come up with some doozies.

MOUSES!

No, The Birthday Song, it is.

Only, you know..,  The Birthday Song for Canada, instead of for me.

I guess.

MOUSES!

But all is not lost there, Peepers, 'cause you know what?

You don't?

Well let me tell you what's what.

Canada Day is a day for CELEBRATIN', for sure.  Canada's one hundred and fifty-first birthday is a day for celebratin' like...  LIKE A HUNDRED AND FIFTY-ONE TIMES!

And do you know what one has when one is celebratin'?

Cake, you say?

Huh.  Right.  Unless it's a tuna fish cake with nippy cream cheese frostin', I'm not interested.  Cake is not what I was thinkin' about there, Peepers.  No sirree.

I was thinkin' more along the lines of...

Fireworks?

MOST CERTAINLY NOT.  I, Seville the Cat, am not a fan of fireworks of any kind.  Fireworks are scary as all get out.  We cats have very sensitive ears, you see, and...

Picnics and BBQs?  And neighbourhood family gatherings?

What the mouses do you think I am, Peepers?  A DOG?

MOUSES!

No Peepers, for celebratin', we have...

THE NIP.

Yup, when celebratin', we have catnip, for sure.  That's right.  Canada is havin`a birthday, and there's no better way for a kitty to celebrate Canada's one hundred and fifty-first birthday than for a kitty to get out the catnip, and GET HIMSELF NIPPED.

MOUSES!

No, Peepers.  No.  No, you may not have any of my nip.  Go drink your lemonade.  Or whatever that stupid stuff is.

MOUSES!

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

HAPPY CANADA DAY EVERYBODY!

And just for fun, I've turned the three pictures from this here blog post into jigsaw puzzles!  Click HERE for the first one, HERE for the second, and HERE for the third.  ENJOY!  

Happy New Year!

Happy Birthday to me.
Happy Birthday to me.
Happy Birthday to MEE-EEE....
Happy Birthday to...

What's that, Peepers?  What did you say?

It's not my birthday?

It isn't?  Really?  Are you absolutely sure?

Awww...  MOUSES!

But technically, it could be my birthday. It's not like you actually know the actual day I was born.  I mean, I arrived at the back door already all grown-up, so there's a good chance today IS my birthday after all.

What's that, Peepers?  The chance of today bein' my actual birthday isn't actually good?

Whatever do you mean?

A one in three hundred and sixty-five chance, huh?  Three hundred and sixty-five...  And you say that doesn't take into account the fact that January isn't kitten season here in Canada.  And that makes it even less likely.  Hmmm...

Awww...  MOUSES!

Well it's somebody's birthday!  I'm sure there's someone out there whose birthday it is.  Like uh... Um...  Uh...

I know!  It's that Baby New Year's birthday, today.  You know the one.  The baby in the diapers. Looks a little like my pal Cupid, 'cept without the wings.  And no bow and arrow.  And I don't think he can fly or anythin'.  And uh...  Um...  Sometimes he wears a big ol' top hat and...  Hmmm...

But they do look a lot alike.  I mean, they both wear diapers.  In public.  Don't bother covering 'em up or anythin'.  MOUSES!

Baby New Year...  The personification of the birth of the new year.  2017 is all of one day old.  Well almost.  Almost, here in Canada.  Guess he won't really be a whole day old 'til tomorrow, right?

And I'm assumin' he is a he.  I think Baby New Year is a boy baby.  He looks like a boy baby.  So I guess that makes 2017 a boy, too.  You know, before thinkin' that through, I didn't realize years were male or female.  I always thought they were just...  Well... Years.

But back to my birthday.

Peepers, I don't see why we can't just say that January 1st is my birthday.  I mean, odds or no odds... By the way, if you have no odds, does that make the odds better?

But I digress.

Fact is Peepers, as of right now, I don't have an actual birthday.  I don't have an actual date of birth. And yet, I was born, and so I must.

So why the mouses can't we just say January 1st is my birthday and be done with it?

BECAUSE!

Do I have to explain everythin' to you, Peepers?

Everyone celebrates New Year's Day, BIG time.  It's even a holiday in most places.  So if I choose January 1st to be MY birthday, then everyone will be celebratin' on my birthday, and in a way, they'll be celebratin' me.  All those New Year's Eve parties will be celebratin' my birthday to come. And then at the stroke of midnight, they'll be cheerin' my arrival.  Then on New Year's Day, they'll be sayin' "HAPPY NEW YEAR!" which will kinda be like code for "Happy Birthday Sivvers!" 'cause you know, it'll be my birthday and everythin'.

What do you mean it doesn't work that way?

WELL IT SHOULD.

MOUSES!

And you're sure that if I choose January 1st to be my birthday, New Year's Day won't be all about me?

You're sure?

You're quite positive 'bout that, huh? Hmmm...

Awww...  MOUSES!

Hmmph!

Well I'm not gonna let that stop me from wishin' all my pals a Happy New Year.

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYBODY!

And if my pals wanna wish me a Happy Birthday back, I'm okay with that.  Yup, I'm okay with that, for sure.  And please, feel free to send nip. MOUSES!

gonna be a big day

Tomorrow is gonna be a big day at my house.  A really big day, for sure, and do you know why?

Tomorrow is gonna be a big day 'cause tomorrow, we're havin' a birthday. Tomorrow, my Aunties Primrose and Blossom are gonna be seventeen-years-old.  Can you believe it?  SEVENTEEN.

I don't know what the peeps have planned or anything.  Don't know if we'll be havin' a party or not but whatever we're doin', I suspect there will be nip.  Yup, you can't celebrate a seventeenth birthday without a little nip. I think it's a law or somethin'.  And if it isn't already a law, it sure should be.

Since my aunties are gonna be turnin' seventeen and all, I thought I might tell you about some of their uh...  ummm...  escapades?  Yeah...  escapades.  That's a good word for it, I should think. Let's see...

The following are true stories, told to me by my peeps.

As you probably know, my Auntie Primrose has a bit of a reputation with the local doctors.  You do remember my post entitled, "bloody Wednesday," do you not?  Truth be told, I suspect that some of the doctors arrange their vacation schedules around Prim's check-ups.  Nothin' better than bein' on another continent when Auntie Primrose is due for her vaccinations.  I also suspect that some doctors have even changed fields due to encounters with the Prim.  There was the one who went to work for the Department of Fisheries and then that other one who decided to train further in order to specialise in birds only and then that other one who just up and moved.  MOUSES!  Exactly what has my Auntie Primrose been up to?

Once, when Auntie Primrose was seein' the doctor, just for some shots I think, the nurse stood out in the hallway and said to my Peep #1, "I'll just stand out here in case she makes a lunge for me." MOUSES!  You'd think my auntie was a lion or somethin'.

This, by the way, was the very same nurse who used to make Peep #1 hold Primrose whenever anything was bein' done and once, when they needed to put her under to get a urine sample, my peep had to apply the gas 'cause the nurse was too scared of Primrose to do it. Of course, that particular nurse was also afraid of mice.  Imagine bein' afraid of a little mouse.  Talk about a scaredy-cat.  No self-respectin' cat would ever be afraid of a little mouse.  No, only peeps are afraid of mice.  MOUSES!

We don't go to that hospital anymore.

But the doctors at that hospital were super good even if a little nervous of my aunties.  There was this one time when the doctor just couldn't get close enough to give Auntie Primrose her vaccines.  He tried and tried and tried but Prim was havin' nothin' of it.  She didn't even want Ol' Peepers to hold her.  She was all over the place. Finally, the doctor suggested that, in the basement, they had a net they used to catch wild animals. Perhaps that would work?

Well, when the doctor was off in the basement lookin' for the net, Peep #1 caught Primrose and picked her up in her arms.  When the doctor returned, he found my Auntie Primrose nestled in, with her face buried in the crook of my peep's arm.  Luckily, what can't be seen, can't be feared so the doctor was able to come from behind and give Primrose her vaccinations without Primrose ever knowin' it was happenin'.

Apparently, these behavioural issues all began in their kittenhood.  My aunties all went into hospital together to be spayed.  Auntie Snowdrop was alive then so there were three of them.  All three were given a sedative before goin' under for their operations but they must have known somethin' was up 'cause when the nurse reached into the cage to bring one out and into the operating room, the other two rose up like snakes, hissing and spitting.  Do snakes spit?  Hmmm...  I've never seen a snake spit but that's what the doctor told Peep #1 the next day when she went to pick 'em up.  He also told her, he had used stitches that would melt on their own and that she needn't bring them back to have any stitches removed.  I wonder why...

You should have seen the look on that very same doctor's face when shortly afterwards, my Auntie Snowdrop was brought in 'cause she had torn a stitch climbing up the coats and jackets in the hall closet.

Although Primrose is the most feared by doctors far and wide, Auntie Blossom has had her moments.  Like that time when our new doctor made the mistake of reaching into the carrier to pull Blossom out.  Normally, this would be a perfectly reasonable thing to do but let's face it, when my aunties are involved, normality doesn't always apply.  There was hissing and there was spitting and I'm pretty sure an attempt to slash human skin was made.  That was when a nurse was brought in to help get a hold of Blossom.  A nurse wearin' those long leather gloves like you'd wear if you were wantin' to hold an eagle or somethin'.  MOUSES!

And, I believe, she pooped.  My Auntie Blossom, I mean. Not our doctor.  Not the nurse, either.  Auntie Blossom pooped right there in the carrier as the doctor and nurse with the long leather gloves were gettin' her out of it.

Yup, that's the ol' standby of my aunties when visitin' the doctor...  poopin'.  And, they tell me, it's best if it's super stinky poop, too.  The stinkier the better, they say.  My aunties swear that that's the best way to distract a doctor or two.

They've pooped in their carriers, on the exam table and once, my Auntie Primrose even pooped outside in the waiting area.  Imagine that.  She got herself into position right in the middle of the floor and...  well...  she pooped.  There was some person there, whom my peep didn't know, who thought she should inform Peep #1 that it appeared to be that Prim was gettin' ready to do her business. Ummm...  yeah...  like my peep didn't already know that.  MOUSES!

At home, my aunties are actually very well behaved.  They never hiss or spit at the peeps at home. Sometimes at the rest of us cats, sure...  but never at the peeps.

Once, Auntie Blossom did lead Peep #1 on a wild goose chase when she was up on the roof of the house, cryin', and the peep thought she was stuck under the deck and Peep #1 went crawlin' about under the deck lookin' for her and dodging spiders but that's another story for another day.

Oh, and then there's that time when Auntie Primrose really did get stuck under the deck 'cause she panics sometimes and the snow was blockin' her way out and she kind of forgot how she got in under there in the first place but that, too, is another story for another day.

Maybe I'll blog about those escapades on my aunties' next birthday, next year.  Yeah...  good plan.  Great plan. Fantastic plan, for sure.

In the meantime, please join me in wishing my Aunties Blossom and Primrose a VERY HAPPY SEVENTEENTH BIRTHDAY.  May their day be filled with love & cuddles and treats & nip.  Lots and LOTS of the nip.