duh

Duh.  Of COURSE I do, Peepers.  Of course!

Kinda goes without sayin', you know.

MOUSES!

Umm...  That's not a few.

NO.  No, it isn't.  Two is not a few.  Two is a couple.  Everyone knows a few is more than a couple.  A few is more than two.

Don't you know anythin' about treats?

MOUSES!

Okay, so TECHNICALLY, I suppose, three might be a few.  Three is more than two.

Barely.

But techno mumbo jumbo aside, three will simply not do.

MOUSES!

Yeah, yeah...  Yeah, that's right, Peepers.  When Saffy and I ask for a few treats, we're thinkin' more along the lines of seven, eight, nine...  Maybe two dozen.  

You know, that sorta thing.

So three doesn't cut it, you see.

MOUSES!

I DON'T CARE what the package says is a serving size.  Packages can be wrong.

PLUS, I've seen YOU eatin' cookies.  

Okay, so I've never actually seen you eat two dozen mint-chocolate cookies, Peepers.  You do have me there.

BUT...

BUT IF I DID see you sit down and eat two dozen mint-chocolate cookies, I wouldn't give you a hard time about it.  Nope, I wouldn't do that, at all.  I, Seville the Cat, would NEVER give you a hard time 'bout eatin' two dozen mint-chocolate cookies all in one go.

'Cause that would be stupid.  Givin' you a hard time 'bout eatin' so many mint-chocolate cookies, I mean.  Nope, I'd be far better off takin' notes, gatherin' proof, and usin' said proof to my advantage when the need arises, and...

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

OF COURSE I WOULD USE proof of your mint-chocolate cookie-eatin' habits to my advantage.  What kinda cat do you think I am?

Don't answer that.

I'll give you an answer to use.

Smart, Peepers.  Smart is the word for which you're lookin'.  A smart kitty like me gathers proof and sets it aside to use at a later date, and...

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

It. Is. NOT. Blackmail.  It's uh...

Well um...

Hmm...

Okay, so blackmail it is.

MOUSES!

And now that we're on the same page...

Kinda.

So now that we're on the same page, Peepers, let's just assume I have hard evidence of your mint-chocolate cookie-eatin' habits.  

NOW PAW OVER MY TREATS.

And don't you dare stop at a few.

MOUSES!

blackmail

I sat at my desk, starin' at the computer.  Beads of sweat ran down my forehead and onto my cheeks before inching their way along my handsome whiskers.

Drip.  Drip.  Drip.

I glanced downward, makin' sure my perspiration wasn't drippin' onto the keyboard.

What was I gonna to do?

Almost four hundred dollars in bit coins.  That was their demand.  Did I have four hundred dollars in my froggy bank?  I didn't think so.  Could I get that amount by sellin' nip?  Probably not.  At least not in a few hours.  Peep #1 said my nip plants had to grow a lot bigger before harvestin'.

WHAT WAS I GONNA DO?

I wiped a tear from my eye.  And then another.  And then one more.

WHAT WAS I GONNA DO?

I peered more closely at the screen before me.

Upon receiving cash I will destroy dirt on you and you would never again heard about me.

The bloggin' kitty in me immediately started to correct the blackmailer's lousy grammar.  I'll correct it and send it back, I thought, before I stopped myself short.  The blackmailer was after money, I realised, not tutoring in English.  Although goodness knows some English tutorin' was SERIOUSLY needed.

MOUSES!

Three hundred and ninety-nine dollars.  They might as well have asked for a million.

MOUSES!

I studied the blackmailer's e-mail address.  It wasn't one I recognised, and that was for sure.  Ganhard blah blah blah at bol dot com.  BOL stood for Bark Out Loud.  That was doggy-speak.  Was I bein' blackmailed by a dog?

MOUSES!

Nah, I had lots of doggy pals, and there wasn't a blackmailer in the pack.  This was much more likely the work of the Weasel Syndicate, for sure.  Weasels impersonatin' dogs.  Now that I could believe.

MOUSES!

They had dirt on me.  Dirty pictures, they said.  Pictures of me nekkid, they were gonna post all over the Internet.

AND they knew all my social media accounts, too.  Every single one.  I gulped, hard.  Would I be wakin' up to pictures of me nekkid all over Facebook tomorrow mornin'?  All over Twitter, too?

WHAT WAS I GONNA DO?

"PEEEE-PRRRRSSSSSSSSS....."  I cried.  "Peepers!  I'm in desperate need of your help."

The peep came runnin'.  Well hobblin', actually, for she managed to stub a toe while racing into the room.

"Peepers, I need four hundred dollars, and I NEED IT RIGHT NOW."

The peep looked confused, although to be honest, no more confused than her usual look.  MOUSES!

"Look!" and I pointed to the e-mail still up on the screen.  "I have until 6:40 this evenin'.  If I don't pay the money into their Bitcoin Wallet by then, they're gonna completely ruin my reputation, for sure.  MOUSES!"

The peep's look of confusion grew even deeper, if you can believe.

"See?  Peepers, are you payin' attention?  PEEPERS!  Pay attention to me.  I need to send this Ganhard heir o' de casa guy $399 by this evenin'.  I'm desperate, Peepers.  DESPERATE, I say.  I can pay you back.  Honestly.  Maybe.  Kinda.  Perhaps in a very-small-instalments-over-a-number-of-years kinda way."

"What's an heir o' de casa?" the peep asked.

"I don't know, it's part of his e-mail address."

The peep furrowed her brow.

"Peepers, please don't make me beg.  PLEASE don't.  Beggin' is not becomin' of a cat.  PLEASE...."

Liftin' me into her arms, the peep sat down at the desk, and read the offendin' e-mail from beginnin' to end.  "They have pictures of you naked," she said.

"I KNOW!" I cried in despair.  "And they're gonna post 'em all over my social media if I can't get my paws on the money I need."

"But Seville, you post naked pictures of yourself all the time.  You're a cat.  You don't wear clothes.  You don't even wear a collar!"

"I KNOW!" I cried more loudly.  "And they're gonna post 'em...  Oh," I interrupted myself.  "Ohhh..." and realisation finally dawned.  "So you mean..."

The peep nodded.

"Oh.  Well that's kinda stupid of 'em, don't you think?  You're right, my pals have seen me nekkid MILLIONS of times.  More nekkid pictures won't come as a surprise.  Even nekkid pictures of those two long-haired freaky marmie brothers of mine, after their havin' lion cuts, wouldn't exactly be indecent.  Well...  Well not really.  Not quite.  Close, but you know...  Nothin' too bad, I suppose.  Certainly nothin' illegal."

The peep smiled.

"Looks like I won't be needin' that money after all, Peepers.  I think I'll just let this one slide.  If they wanna post pictures of me on the Internet, they can post all they like," and I smiled the smile of a Cheshire Cat.

The peep got up.  She started to hobble away.

"DON'T STUB ANOTHER TOE ON THE WAY OUT"  I helpfully cried.

Sittin' back at my desk, I read the e-mail once more.  "Threatenin' to post nekkid pictures of me," I laughed.  "Of me, Seville the Cat.  What will these scammers think of next?  And IMAGINE their thinkin' they could get money from me.  MOUSES!"

"Oohhh..." I whistled.  "But THAT'S interestin', isn't it?" and I looked more closely at the screen on the computer.  "Well gosh golly darn be, would ya look at that."


I thought for a moment.  Then thought a bit more.  "OH PEEEE-PRRRRSSSSSSSSS....." I yelled, and waited for her return.

"Hey Peepers, funny thing.  It turns out, this here ol' blackmail e-mail wasn't for me, after all.  It appears to have been addressed to YOU."

"What?" the peep gasped.

"Peepers," I grinned, "what did you get up to on World Nekkid Gardenin' Day, huh?  Huh?  WHAT ON EARTH DID YOU DO?  And who the mouses was takin' your picture?"

MOUSES!

a car and some coupons

It began like any typical day at my house.  Peep #1 started up the coffee pot before dishing out some breakfast for us cats.  Then she refilled our water dishes and topped up the bowls of dry food.  Grabbing a cup of freshly brewed coffee, she headed into my office to turn on the computer for me, allowing me to work on my blog.  I followed behind.

I was busy clickin' the keys with my claws when I heard her.  "Who did this?" she cried.  "Who got into this?"  I continued to work on the computer.  I had just started writing 'bout my next adventure and I didn't want to lose focus.  If I ignored the peep's questions, perhaps she would stop askin' them.  I had work to do and I didn't need a pestering peep slowin' me down.

"Nissy," demanded the first peep, "do you know anything about this?"

I briefly looked up from the keyboard.  There was Peep #1, holdin' the bag of nip from our dear nip-growin' friend a couple of communities away.  This particular friend grows the best nip in the world.  She grows it organically in her special nip-growin' soil and then harvests only the best parts of the nip plants before drying 'em ever so carefully.  Every fall this friend gives us cats a bag of her extra-special, super-duper, especially strong nip.  "Nope, never saw it before in my life," I replied.

"Nissy..."

"Never saw that baggy before, Peepers.  Now stop pesterin' me woman.  I have work to do."  I went back to typing, ignoring the noises emanating from Ol' Peepers.  I concentrated on the computer screen, afraid to look back at the peep in case she made eye contact with my rather guilty lookin' eyes.

Shortly afterwards, my sister Mason came trottin' into my office.  She sat down next to me and whispered in my ear.

MOUSES!  According to Mason, a cat-sized cell phone had been found next to the bag of nip in question.  She didn't know if there were any pictures of the nipped-up cat chewin' and clawing through the bag on that phone but the possibility existed.  Talk around the house was that one of my brothers or sisters had that phone.  Mason swore it wasn't her.  She was just actin' as a go-between.  What would I pay for the phone?

Now, I don't have a lot of money.  I have the money in my froggy bank.  Don't ask.  Long story short, Ol' Peepers doesn't know the difference between a pig and a frog.  Apparently, they don't teach that at peep school.  A kitty sends their peep out to buy 'em a piggy bank and they come back with a frog.  MOUSES!  But that is another story for another day.

But the money in my froggy was ear-marked for an investment in nip futures.  I couldn't use that.  What to do...  What to do...

I knew in an instant what must be done.  I dashed outside into the cold, icy snow.  In the garage, I found what I needed.  I knew it was there.  I found the little toy car I had discovered buried in the ground while helpin' the peep with her gardening last summer.  Every now and then we find stuff buried in the soil.  Usually it's just rocks and whatnot but quite often it's some broken glass, sometimes a not-so-broken glass bottle and once in a blue moon, we find a real treasure like this car.  The peep had tucked it away on a shelf in the garage but I had watched her puttin' it there so I knew exactly where to look.

Okay...  I had a car.  I knew from watchin' the news that when you wanna buy back a possibly incriminatin' phone, you offer the cat with the phone a car and some money but like I said, I didn't want to use the money in my froggy bank.  Hmmm...  COUPONS!  Aren't coupons the next best thing to money?  They have entire television shows 'bout how peeps use 'em in place of money. 

That's when I remembered how that ol' spammy spam-face spammer, Mr. Anonymous Spam had been tryin' to get me to put up a link up on my blog for his site about couponing.  I could go to his site and get some...  Nope.  That's wouldn't work.  I deleted that site address before it ever hit the presses.  MOUSES!

Then I had it.  Sometimes Ol' Peepers cuts out coupons from things and puts 'em up on the shelf in the kitchen.  A jump onto the counter and a swipe of the paw later, I had 'em.  Coupons for cat treats and a bag of oatmeal.  Oatmeal?  Whatever...

I immediately put out the word.  I told Mason I would buy back the phone left beside the half-chewed through bag of extra-special nip.  I had a car and some coupons.  I could offer a car and some coupons in exchange for the phone.  Who would accept my offer?

Mason left the office to tell the other cats.  She never returned.  She never again mentioned the phone.  I have this nagging feelin' that that phone is gonna come back to haunt me one day.  MOUSES!  A cat has just gotta be more careful with his phones.