birds

Knock it off!

KNOCK IT OFF!

I SAID, KNOCK IT OFF OUT THERE, YOU STUPID BIRDS!!!

MOUSES!

I'm tellin' ya...

Birds.

MOUSES!

Peepers.  PEEPERS!  Peepers, this is all your fault, you know.  It's ALL. YOUR. FAULT.  If you hadn't fed those darned birds all last winter, then planted a whole bunch of stuff for 'em to eat in the summer, they wouldn't be hangin' out in the garden next to MY office window, right now.  YOU are to blame, Peepers.  You are TOTALLY to blame.

MOUSES!

Actually, I wouldn't mind 'em all that much if it weren't for that incessant noise they keep makin'.  All that cawin' and squawkin' and stuff.

They're disturbin' my peace!

They're almost as bad as the peep when she caterwauls.  Not quite, but pretty darned close.

MOUSES!

I know!  I shall call the RCMP and let 'em know there's a flock of crows and blue jays in my yard all hootin' and hollerin; and disturbin' the peace.

Now let's see...  Nine...  One...

PEEPERS!  You might wanna check on those birds.

I DON'T CARE if you're not bothered by their loud cawin'.  I'm phonin' the police 'cause I'M bothered by all that noise.  But you might wanna get out there toot suite, my peep, 'cause I'm bettin' you'll be bothered by what they've started doin' now.

Don't tell me to wipe that Cheshire Cat grin off my face.  That grin is there for a reason.  That grin is there 'cause I know somethin' you don't know, and I know you'll be upset when you do know, too.

One.

*ring a ling ding*

Gosh darn it, police put me on hold.

MOUSES!

Yeah, yeah, Peepers.  I'm tellin' ya, you had best get out there now.  I'd come with you but I'm still on the phone.  I'm on hold.

Oh, hello there Mr. Police Person, Sir.  Seville the Cat, here.  I'm callin' to let you know...

WHAT?

They hung up on me.

MOUSES!

You'd think they'd never before been called by a cat.

MOUSES!

Well I'll just have to take care of those birds, myself, then.  Take matters into my own four paws.  I'll just have to let those birds know who's boss 'round here, and...

Oh, here comes Peepers back from outside, now.

Told ya.  Yup, I told you, you wouldn't be happy.  I TOLD YOU.

Hehehehehehehe...

Whatcha doin' there, Peepers?  Who are ya gonna call?  Don't bother callin' the police 'cause if they're not takin' calls from me, they're definitely not gonna take one from you.  I mean, I'M a cat, and you...   Well you're norhin' more than a mere peep.  A peepling, in fact.  A...

YOU GOT THROUGH?

MOUSES!

Well you don't need 'em, Peepers.  'Cause I'm headin' out there right now and I'm gonna deal with those birds once and for all.  By the time I'm through with 'em, it'll be quiet 'round here, and I'll be able to get back to my nap...  I MEAN, back to workin' on my book.

MOUSES!

Be back in a sec.

OH MY MOUSES, PEEPERS!  CALL THE POLICE!  CALL THE POLICE!  THERE'S A BUNCH OF ANGRY BIRDS OUT THERE BEIN' EVEN LOUDER THAN BEFORE, AND IT'S LIKE THEY'RE READY TO ATTACK.  THEY'RE HOOTIN' AND HOLLERIN' AND SWOOPIN' AND FLAPPIN' THEIR WINGS, AND...

AND IT'S MAYHEM AND MADNESS, FOR SURE!

Plus, they've been busy pullin' out a whole whack of your plants.  At first, I thought they thought it was a game of some sort, but now...

But now, I think they're preparin' for war.

Those birds mean business, Peepers.  They mean business, for sure.

BIRDS.

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.

the haircut

"Hey there, Peepers.  Whatcha..."

I stopped in my tracks and took a second look.

"Is that really you, Peepers?  WHAT THE MOUSES HAPPENED TO YOU?  WHAT DID YOU DO?"

Frozen in my pawsteps, I saw the most horrible sight I had ever before seen.  The most horrible sight ANY cat had ever seen.  Standin' right there in front of me, was...

THE PEEP.

MOUSES!

And believe-you-me, my friends, there are some sights a kitty will never unsee.

MOUSES!

"You...  You...  YOU...  YOU CUT YOUR OWN HAIR?" I stammered.  "And...  And...  AND...  WHAT DID YOU USE?"

MOUSES!

I couldn't believe my eyes, my friends.  The peep had gone off the edge, for sure.  Jumped off the high divin' board into the deepest, darkest pool there ever had been.  She had taken the groomin' tools and lopped off huge chunks of her hair!  An inch here.  Four inches there.  Three inches by her ears...  Scratch that, three inches by ONE ear, six by the other, and...

And she looked like...

Well she looked like she had run her head through a dull-bladed blender, masquerading as a lawn whipper snipper, bein' operated by Pablo Picasso.

ON ONE OF HIS BAD DAYS.

MOUSES!

I mean, it's not like Peepers sports the most up-to-date looks on that head of hers at the best of times.  Hair pulled back in a ponytail - off her face and out of her eyes - is her standard DO.

But still...

"PEEPERS!" I yelled, graspin' her face between my two front paws, tryin' to shake some sense into her.  "WHAT DID YOU DO?"

I wondered if I would ever be able to face the neighbourhood cats again.  Would they be laughin' at me behind my back once they caught a glimpse of the peep I called mine?

THIS WAS EVEN WORSE THAN THAT TIME SHE GOT TREE SAP STUCK IN HER HAIR FROM THOSE PINES.

MOUSES!

"No, no....  NOOOOO!!!   No, Peepers, no.  How could you DO this to me?" and I closed my eyes tight, tryin' to forget what I'd seen.

Then I opened my eyes.

And I looked up at the peep.

She appeared almost normal to me.

Well you know, normal for her, at least.

"Peepers, did you not cut your hair?" I asked.

Lookin' perplexed, she said, "Seville, hair salons have all shut down because of COVID-19."

"I KNOW THAT, Peepers," I snapped.  "But I thought you...  I thought you went ahead and cut it yourself."

"I really do need a trim," Peepers murmured as she pulled her silly-lookin' ponytail forward, probably examinin' split ends.  "But no, I'm not yet desperate enough to attempt cutting my own hair.  I think you must have been dreaming, Seville."

"NIGHTMARE, is more like it," I said with relief.  "Had you seen what I saw," and I shuddered beyond belief.  "MOUSES!"

Then as Peepers turned to walk away, held in her paw - I mean, hand - I SAW SCISSORS.

MOUSES!

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

And remember:

IF IN DOUBT,

DON'T. GO. OUT.

Continue to practice SOCIAL DISTANCIN' measures

AND KEEP WASHIN' YOUR PAWS.

MOUSES!


And whatever you do...

DON'T LET YOUR PEEPS CUT THEIR OWN HAIR!

two weeks

Two weeks.

Two. Whole. Weeks.

Fourteen days.

Three hundred and thirty-six hours.

Twenty thousand, one hundred and sixty minutes.

One MILLION, two hundred and nine thousand, six hundred seconds.


Multiply that by nine to translate into cat time...

I DON'T HAVE ENOUGH CLAWS TO ADD ALL THAT UP.

MOUSES!

This self-isolatin' business the peeps are doin' is for the birds.

MOUSES!

And speakin' of birds...

Did you know that birds don't know how to self-isolate?  And they CERTAINLY don't know how to practice social distancin'.

Or maybe they do, but are choosin' not to.

Hmmm...

I'M GONNA CALL THE POLICE ABOUT THEM, FOR SURE.

MOUSES!

Scratch that.  So I'm not gonna call the police on account of my not wantin' the police to know 'bout my catnip plants.

Catnip isn't illegal, you know.  IT'S PERFECTLY FINE for a cat to be growin' a little nip on the side.

But...

But a cat doesn't want to take any unnecessary chances, you see.

MOUSES!

And speakin' of unnecessary chances...

Those birdies at the feeders should be stayin' six paws apart in order to abide by social distancin' protocols.  But are they?  OH NO, they're sittin' on those feeders, side by side, wing by wing, their feathers touchin' each other and everythin'.

MOUSES!

But if I'm not gonna call the police on 'em, I'm gonna have to take matters into MY OWN FOUR PAWS, for sure.

Be right back.

MOUSES!

That did it.  That dealt with the problem at paw.  One can always count on Seville the Cat to instil social order when social order is in need of instillin'.

What did I do, you ask?

Well...

Well I marched right out onto the veranda and I puffed out my chest, and I let those birdies take a good look at ME, the resident cat.   Next thing I knew, the birdies flew off.

Good thing, too, on account of my havin' to hold my breath in order to puff out my chest, and a kitty can only hold his breath for so long.

MOUSES!

Uh-uh...

Drat, there are currently restrictions on travel.  Peeps aren't supposed to be flying 'round unnecessarily.  Wonder if that also applies to birds.  More to the point, I wonder if I'll get in trouble for making 'em take flight.

MOUSES!

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

And remember peeps:

IF IN DOUBT,

DON'T. GO. OUT.

Continue to practice SOCIAL DISTANCIN' measures.

AND KEEP WASHIN' YOUR PAWS.

MOUSES!

Peepers, you stink

Hey Peepers!  Anyone ever tell you, you stink?

Okay, so yeah, you have a point there.  I HAVE told you that on many occasions, but uh...

HEY PEEPERS!  Anyone other than me ever tell you, you stink?

No?

Huh.

Well...

Well do your friends not have noses?  Maybe they've all gone and lost their sense of smell?  Forgot where they put it or somethin' like that?

Well you don't have to be like that about it.  Jeez.

MOUSES!

Peepers, I know that during this pandemic, Prime Minister Justin Trudeau and Premier Stephen McNeil have been sayin' peeps should stay at home as much as they can - and I TOTALLY agree - but they DID NOT SAY you should let yourself go.

MOUSES!

Oh yeah?  Well tell me this then, Peepers:  When was the last time you had a shower?  Huh?  HUH?  When, I ask.  WHEN?

This mornin', you say?

REALLY?

Huh.

Then how come you stink?

Do too.

DO TOO.

DO TOO.

MOUSES!

You do too stink, Peepers.  You smell like...

*sniff sniff*

Gardenias?

Yeah, well I'm a cat, and cats think gardenias stink.

And don't get us started on roses.

MOUSES!

And what's more...

*sniff sniff*

*sniff sniff*

*sniff sniff sniff, sniff sniff sniff sniff*

Aw MOUSES, Peepers.  I don't know what kinda gardenia stinkin' concoction you showered in, but now my furs smell of it, too.   Social distancin', Peepers.  SOCIAL DISTANCIN'!  You're supposed to be keepin' six paws away from me at all times but OH NO, you had to go give me a cuddle, didn't you.  You had to go give me a cuddle and get your stink all over me.  You had to....

Awww....

MOUSES!

Now that I think about it, Peepers, I think YOU SHOULD let yourself go.  If you're gonna be stayin' at home 24-7, why bother showering at all?  Why not skip the showers and hair washin' completely, savin' kitties like me from gettin' covered in your stinky ol' stink?

Imagine showering in gardenias.

The stupidity of it all!

PEEPERS, YOU STINK.

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

AND REMEMBER, PEEPS:

IF IN DOUBT,

DON'T. GO. OUT.

MOUSES!

if in doubt,

IF IN DOUBT,

DON'T GO OUT.

MOUSES!

It's really very simple.

But first of all, I must apologise.  The Internet was as sketchy as an elf named Buddy using an Etch-a-Sketch yesterday, and I wasn't able to post my Sunday post.  But you know what they say...

They say, better late than never.

So...

So Monday is now Sunday.

MOUSES!

Or maybe Sunday is now Monday.

Whatever.

But back to this other stuff.  You know, this important coronavirus stuff.

We're still social distancin' here, although peeps are askin' for us to now call social distancing, physical distancing.

Okay, I get it.  I get that peeps are supposed to be keepin' two meters between themselves and others so really, yeah, that IS a physical, and not social kinda thing, but...

But SOME PEEPS can't seem to figure out how to keep six paws apart at all!  Are we really gonna confuse 'em by callin' it somethin' else?  You know what'll happen if we do.  You know you do.  They'll start thinkin' that social distancin' and physical distancin' are two different things 'cause they have two different names, and the next thing that'll happen is that they won't be doin' any kinda distancin' at all.

'Cause you know...

They're peeps.

Cats can figure this stuff out no probs, but peeps...

Well...

Peeps are peeps!

MOUSES!

And then there's the self-isolating thing.

Self-isolatin' is when you don't go anywhere you don't absolutely have to go.  When you stay at home as much as you possibly can.  You ask yourself, BEFORE you step out the door, do I really HAVE to get that at the store?  Do I really HAVE to walk at the park or the beach, or can I just get some fresh air right here at home?  And if there's any doubt - any doubt at all - 'bout not HAVIN' to go somewhere, you DON'T GO.

IF IN DOUBT,

DON'T GO OUT.

MOUSES!

My peeps have been stayin' home as much as possible.  Peep #1 made a quick run to the grocery store last Friday, and has been home ever since.

Since Friday.

SEVENTY-TWO HOURS.

FOUR THOUSAND, THREE HUNDRED AND TWENTY MINUTES.

TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY-NINE THOUSAND, TWO HUNDRED SECONDS.

Do you have any idea how long that is in CAT years?

Well I'll tell you how long that is in cat years.

Scratch that, the calculator doesn't go up that high.

MOUSES!

Fact is, peeps bein' home twenty-four / seven is like an eternity for us cats, for sure.

Did I say like?  I meant to say, IS.

MOUSES!

And so far, we've only finished week number one.

I'm seriously gonna need to augment my supply of the nip.

MOUSES!

So remember:

IF IN DOUBT,

DON'T GO OUT.

And when you absolutely HAVE to - go out, I mean - keep six paws between you and all others.

MOUSES!

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

It was announced yesterday that all Nova Scotia Provincial parks are now closed.  Cars found parked at those parks will be towed.  MOUSES!

my brother Rushton

And then there was one.

As some of you may remember, when my brother Nerissa started this blog a number of years ago, I was one of several cats.  There were twelve of us at one point.  Twelve.  TWELVE!

But now, there is only one.

Late Sunday night, while being held in Peepers' arms, my brother Rushton Tapio left this world for Heaven.  He's now up there with Nissy and Anderson, and Mason, and...  Well he's up in Heaven with all my fur-sibs who have gone before him.

As you can imagine, our house is a pretty sad house right now.  Sad and empty, and lonely, too.

But our loss is Heaven's gain, for I'm bettin' Rushy is havin' a wonderful time up there, meetin' up with fur-sibs he hasn't seen in years.  Nissy has probably already told him where he can get his paws on the best nip.  Bet there are whole big fields of the stuff growin' year 'round.  And butterflies!  My sister Constance loved chasin' butterflies, and I wouldn't be surprised if she has already taken Rushy on a butterfly chasin' expedition.  Chasing 'em through one of Nissy's catnip fields, perhaps?  What fun they must be having.

But the peeps and I, of course, are missing him terribly.

And we're very, very sad.

PURRS.

Even if I did tease Rushy a bit on my blog, I stilled loved him lots.  After all, he was my brother.

PURRS.

I've never been an only cat before, you know.  At least not since I came to live with the peeps back in 2008.  I've always had lots of fur-sibs about.


But now...

Now I am all alone.  It's just me.

And that, my friends, is not all it's cut out to be.

MOUSES!

Now, when the peeps need a cat to cuddle, it's all on me.

Now, when the peeps need a cat to tickle, it's all on me.

NOW, when the peeps need a cat to smother in kisses and harass to no end, it's all on me.

LITERALLY.  It's LITERALLY all on me.  Last night, I was cuddled and smothered in kisses and all those smotherin' kisses were ALL. ON. ME.

MOUSES!

And now, when someone knocks over a dish of kibble and said kibble ends up scattered all over the kitchen floor...

NOW, there's no one to blame...

BUT ME!

I'm tellin' ya, this sucks the big one, for sure.  I tried blamin' Peep #2 for the spilt kibble incident, but Peep #1 wasn't buyin' it for an instant, as apparently, when said event occurred, Peep #2 was still up in bed and therefore could not possibly have spilled said kibble all over the floor.

Or so the peep said.

MOUSES!

This, my friends, is not an ideal situation.  It's not an ideal situation at all!  I'm gonna have to go out and find myself a fur-sib or two.

Either that, or confine my mischief makin' to when both peeps are up and awake.

BUT EVERYONE KNOWS mischief makin' is best done in the middle of the night.

MOUSES!

However for now, I'm gonna just sit here and think about Rushton for a bit, and remember what a wonderful brother he was.  I was lucky to have him, you know.  I was very lucky, indeed.

PURRS.

it's Easter!

Oh my mouses...

IT'S EASTER!

And a VERY HAPPY EASTER to all of my pals.

Happy Easter, everybody.  HAPPY EASTER!

So you're all probably wondering what my Easter plants are...

Oops!  That was a Freudian slip, for sure.

Yes, I will be imbibing in some Easter plants this year.  Well not so much Easter plants, as plants that I'll be imbibing in on Easter.

You know...

CATNIP.

MOUSES!

But anyway...

But anyway, my Easter PLANS this year are to be busy busy like a busy bee, and do some more work on my book.

IT'S ALMOST COMPLETED!

Can you believe it?

MOUSES!

So due to my furiously workin' on my FIRST FULL BOOK LENGTH ADVENTURE, I'm afraid that this year, there will be no Easter adventure on my blog.

Please don't cry.  PLEASE...  I know it's disappointing, but...

But so as to make sure my pals don't miss out...

I'm including the links to some of my Easter adventures on Nerissa's Life from years past.  You know, so that you can experience the fun once more.  Here they are!  Just click on the title of each, and you'll be transported through space and time to the adventure.

          the weasels who stole Easter - an Easter adventure from 2018
          nip eggs - an Easter adventure from 2017
          jailbreak - an Easter adventure from 2016
          a request for assistance - part 1 of an Easter adventure from 2014
          savin' Easter morning - part 2 of an Easter adventure from 2014 

And what's more...

Just for fun...

I'm including an excerpt from my upcoming book.

Can you believe it?

MOUSES!

Now I've posted this very same excerpt on Facebook before, but I know some of you aren't on Facebook yourselves, so you might have missed it.  This is from near the beginning of my book and part of a chapter I absolutely love.  I hope you'll all love it, too.  PURRS
 
But before I forget...

HAPPY EASTER!!!

The followin' is the excerpt from my upcomin' book.  Enjoy!


I peered through the glass. Two men wearing long, dark trench coats of some sort stood on the doorstep, their newly polished leather shoes sparkling in the sunlight. Neatly trimmed hair framed what were obviously stern-looking expressions, even though dark glasses hid their eyes from my view.
“CSIS agents,” I muttered to myself.
Wait a minute. I turned away so that my back was to the door and leaned up against it. How the mouses did I know that these two smartly-dressed, stern-looking characters were Canadian Security Intelligence Service agents? Had I met them before? Had I seen them around? Had they attended the peep’s party on New Year’s Eve? But perhaps more importantly, WHY the mouses would two Canadian Security Intelligence Service agents be knocking on my front door?
Something else didn’t feel right, either, but I wasn’t quite sure what. The unlikely appearance of two CSIS agents on my front doorstep was odd, to say the least, so that was probably it. On the other paw, my uneasiness might very well be due to the fact that my fur-sibs and I had had to fend for ourselves for both lunch and dinner the day before, not to mention breakfast, this morning. It was quite possible I was suffering from a bit of a dodgy tummy. Although I couldn’t be positive, I suspected Andy had drooled in the open bag of kibble from which we had all been eating, and goodness knows what life-threatening kinda germs might be found in Anderson’s drool. At this very moment, I could be starting to feel the effects of such a life-threatening contagion, causing me to hallucinate, and imagine the appearance of two CSIS agents at my front door, and…
“WE CAN SEE YOU, YOU KNOW. We can see you right through the glass, Seville. Open the door.”
I turned back around. Huh. The CSIS agents were still there so I had to conclude they were real. What’s more, they somehow knew my name. And they probably wouldn’t give up easily, I surmised, as I was quite positive government agents and the like never did, so rather reluctantly, I opened the door. “What do you want?” I asked. I held up a paw before either one of the men could answer. “More importantly, do either of you know how to use a can opener?”
One of the agents made a sharp movement with his head which I assumed to be a nod of affirmation.
“Good. Come this way,” I told them, padding softly through the foyer and leading them into the kitchen. “There are tins of tuna on the counter. You can talk while I eat. MOUSES!”

HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY EASTER MY PALS!!!

purrs

the scandalous cad

So there I was in my office, workin' hard on my blog and totally mindin' my own business, when...

Yeah, I was TOTALLY mindin' my own business.

When alarm bells started doin' their dingin'.  There were alarm bells and sirens, EVERYWHERE.  There was even an alert on the television.

MOUSES!

Okay, so maybe there weren't actually any alarms or sirens doin' their dinger.  And maybe there wasn't a TV alert, either.  MAYBE it was really more of a case of the first peep walkin' into my office and openin' her mouth.

Of course, when Peep #1 opens her mouth, what comes out can kinda sound like the screechin' of a siren, for sure.

It's a proven fact, you know.  And I'm not the only one who says it.

MOUSES!

But I digress.  Let's get back to that alarming message.

So there I was, hard at work on my blog, when Peep #1 said, "Hey Sivvers, did you read what some guy wrote on your Facebook page?"

Of course, I immediately raced over to my fan page, on Facebook, and started reading.

My jaw dropped.

My pallor paled.

My eyes started burning.

A torrent of tears streamed down my face, and in dismay I watched as they formed a puddle right there on the floor beneath me.

What?

Why?

HOW?

HOW COULD ANYONE WRITE SOMETHIN' AS NASTY AS THAT?

AND ABOUT ME, TOO.

MOUSES!

I looked at the post I had previously made 'bout how I was writin' a book-length adventure, and just below my good news...

Some STUPID GUY wrote...

He wrote...

MOUSES! 

Of all the good for nothin' guys out there...

In all the no good gin joints of the world...

AND HE HAD TO GO COMMENT ON MINE?

Okay, so my Facebook fan page isn't exactly a gin joint.

Isn't exactly?  It isn't at all.

And it certainly isn't no good.

But still... 

But still, I, Seville the Cat, was annoyed.

And rightly so, too.

Of course, that was AFTER my heart had been broken.

*sighs*

But the peep said to me, "Don't worry, Sivvers, keep your chin up.  There's always going to be that one guy who just can't help himself but to say something nasty."

And you know somethin'?

SHE WAS RIGHT! 

Which just goes to show you, there's a first time for everythin', for sure. 

MOUSES!

I mean, who does this guy think he is, anyway?  Has he written any books?  Does he know how to write?  Does he even know how to READ? 

MOUSES! 

So even though this stupid guy went and TOTALLY SPOILED the announcement 'bout my writin' a book... 

TOTALLY spoiled it, for sure. 

And even though he went and TOTALLY RUINED my good mood...

You know what?

I, Seville the Cat, am gonna forgive him.

'Cause truth be told, maybe, as the peep said, he just can't help himself.  Maybe he's just naturally nasty.

And MAYBE I can work his name into my book.

As a villain, of course.

Or perhaps as the victim.

Or MAYBE a SCANDALOUS CAD.

Who ends up at the bottom of very deep river, wearin' blocks of cement-fashioned shoes.

'Cause you know somethin', else?

THAT'S the kinda thing we writing types do.

MOUSES!

not again

Okay, so she's never actually done this before.

Scratch that.  She's never done EXACTLY this before, but I'm pretty sure she's come close.

MOUSES!

So this is what happened at my house, the other day:

There was the peep, trottin' out to the garage to...

Now when I say trottin', I don't mean trottin' like a horse or anythin' like that.  The peep was just trottin' like...  You know...  A peep.

But anyway...

So anyway, there was the peep, trottin' out to the garage to get somethin'.  It doesn't matter what she was gettin'.  That, my friends, is completely irrelevant to my story.  What does matter is that whatever it was she was gettin' was in the garage, it was nighttime, and it was super, super dark on account of the sky bein' clouded all over.  There was not even a single star in the sky.  No sign of the moon, either.

Did I mention it was dark?

MOUSES!

So there was the peep, trottin' and walkin' across the driveway, when I heard...

CRASH!

BANG!!

BOOM!!!

Ow... Ow...  Ow...   *SOB*   Ow...  Ow... Ow...

MOUSES!

Okay, so I didn't hear the mouses part.  That was somethin' I, Seville the Cat, added from my perch at the window, inside.

One minute those Pots of Potted Peppers Plants were sittin' on the driveway mindin' their own business, and the next...

The next minute they were...

Well...

Let me put it this way:  The peep walked right into those Pots of Potted Peepers - I mean, PEPPERS.  She walked right into those peppers, and before she even knew it, she was FLYIN' right over 'em, too.  Yup, and before she even knew what was happenin', she was comin' in for a hard landin', right on her knees.

Scratch that.  She flew over those potted peppers and landed, HARD, on ONE knee.  The other knee's landin' was softened by a now dead nasturtium plant growin' next to the peepers...  I mean, PEPPERS.

And FYI, that now dead nasturtium plant wasn't fully dead 'til the peep crashed and landed right on it.

MOUSES!

The peep, bein' a peep, started cryin' and whimperin' like no one has ever cried and whimpered before.

Okay, scratch that, too.  I've heard people whimper and cry way worse on TV, to be sure.

MOUSES!

Now the thing is, this is not the first time the peep has accidentally done somethin' stupid outside.  I'm assumin' the other times were accidental, too, but of course, one never really knows for sure.  After all, the peep is...

Well...

A peep.

MOUSES!

But although this might not be the first time she has allegedly injured herself, accidentally, this was definitely the time she managed to hurt herself the most.  She couldn't even climb up and down the stairs afterwards.  Least not without cryin' in agony.

That reminds me, I need a new pair of ear plugs.  The peep's cries of agony are even worse than her attempts at song.

MOUSES!

But back to the peep.

Scratch that.  Back to the peep and how this stupid behaviour of hers has affected MY LIFE.

MOUSES!

For a whole day after the incident, Peep #1 was out of commission on the anythin'-to-do-with-the-bendin'-of-the-knees front.  And, as you can imagine, this was EXTREMELY INCONVENIENT for ME.  I mean, I had to wait a whole extra five minutes before she could muster up the strength to get me my treats.

Can you believe it?

MOUSES!

And I wasn't just inconvenienced by the tardiness of treats.  I was inconvenienced with the serving of my meals, too.  Every Single Meal, the next day, was served late.  EVERY SINGLE ONE!  Seriously, if I didn't know better, I would say she fell into and over those Pots of Potted Pepper Plants on Purpose, just to make me wait for my din-dins and beakkies, not to mention my treats.

MOUSES!

And litter box duties?  I was forced to watch her hobblin' over to the boxes, and...

Okay, so watchin' that was actually kinda funny.  So funny, in fact, had I not been so weak from not gettin' my meals served to me on time all day, I would surly have thought of sellin' tickets to all the other neighbourhood peeps.

MOUSES!

But back to the peep.

And her stupid ol' injured knee.

And how that stupid ol' injured knee has been affectin' ME.

MOUSES!

You should have SEEN the peep goin' to sit down on the chesterfield.  There I was, LEFT WAITIN', for goodness knows HOW long, while she managed to get herself sittin' down before I could jump up onto her knee, and...

Well we won't go into that.

Except to say, her cries of pain were EXTREMELY UNPLEASANT to MY sensitive ears.

Really.  You'd THINK a peep would be more considerate than that.

But OH NO...  Not MY peep.

Everythin' is always about her and HER stupid ol' knee.

MOUSES!

my apologies

It is with deepest regret...

Hmmm...

It is with my most sincere apologies...

HMMM...

I would like to extend...

HMMM...

For mousin' out loud.  I'm sorry.  Okay?  I'M SORRY!  Are you satisfied now?  MOUSES!

On the other paw, I'm thinkin' that might not be the best openin' for a letter of apology, ever, after all.  It's back to the drawin' board for me.  MOUSES!

But I don't have a drawin' board to get back to.  MOUSES!

OH PEEPERS....

Hey Peepers!  You have a drawin' board handy?  You wanna write this letter of apology for me?

Actually, it would be far more appropriate for the letter to come from you, anyway, 'cause after all, it was you who messed everythin' up the other day and...

What?  You don't remember messin' everythin' up?  Oh my mouses, Peepers.  Of course you did.

Oh yeah, it was DEFINITELY you.  You were definitely to blame.  Haven't you heard that ol' sayin'? You know the one.  The one that goes like, When in doubt, blame the peep.

Yeah, that one.  EVERYONE says it so it must be true.

Who's everyone, you ask?  Well...  Well me, for one.  And everybody else I know, too.  It's quite a well established sayin', Peepers.  It's very well known.  I believe Nissy invented it and...

IT'S A SAYIN'!  WHO AM I TO DISAGREE WITH A SAYIN'?  WHO ARE YOU TO DISAGREE WITH A SAYIN', EITHER?  Who?  WHO?  WHO?

Anyway...

Anyway, AS EVERYONE KNOWS, when in doubt, one should always blame the peep.  So I'm thinkin'...  I'm thinkin', if anyone has gotta apologize, it should be a peep, and the peep I'm thinkin' who should be apologizin', is you.

Not MY fault you don't understand the sayin'.  But your lack of understandin' is beside the point.  All you really need know is how to write a letter of apology.

'Nough of your babblin', woman.  Let's get down to business here, shall we?

Hmmm....

I'm thinkin' you should address the letter to the world 'cause I..  I mean, YOU, kinda messed up the world the other day when...

I'M GETTIN' TO THAT PART, WOMAN.  MOUSES!

Peepers, last Wednesday, when I hit the publish button on my blog, I kinda broke the Internet.

I MEAN, when I hit the publish button, YOU kinda broke the Internet.

Why was it you?  'CAUSE YOU'RE MY IT SUPPORT, THAT'S WHY.  Don't you know anythin', Peepers?  MOUSES!

For mousin' out loud.  Peep #1 is as dense as a century-old fruit cake, soaked in a barrel of rum.  It's no wonder she doesn't have a clue 'bout...

Hang on there for a mo.  Maybe all that rum is the reason she's...

Yup, her brain must be addled, or pickled, or whatever, for sure.  MOUSES!

Anyway Peepers, the thing is, when I hit the publish button on Wednesday, my blog published and everythin', but no one could read it.  No one could access my blog at all.  And when I say no one, I mean NO ONE, as in not a single man, woman, or cat, anywhere.  Not from New Zealand, or England, or the United States, or anywhere else!  I couldn't even access it myself, and it's my blog. All I got was a "Site cannot be found" message.  I don't know how you did it but CLEARLY Peepers, YOU BROKE THE INTERNET.

Pish posh, oh my gosh.  The fact that I was the one who actually hit the publish button is neither here nor there.  Nor anywhere!  As my IT Support, it is YOUR duty to make my blog run smoothly, and as you were derelict in your duties, it was YOUR fault the Internet broke.  Yours and only yours and besides, do I have to remind you again?   When in doubt, blame the peep.  Not that there is any doubt in my mind that you are to blame, but still...

Oh my mouses, how DOES one reason with an unreasonable rum-soaked-fruitcake dense, brain addled peep?

So like I was sayin' before I had to explain like, EVERYTHIN', to you, you need to write up a letter of apology addressed to the whole wide world, on account of your breakin' the Internet, and...

Peepers.

PEEPERS.

PEEPERS!

Where are you goin' now?

And why are you coverin' your ears like that?

AND WHY ARE YOU MAKIN' THOSE WEIRD NAH-NAH-NAH-NAH-NAH-NAH AWFUL KIND OF SINGING NOISES THAT REALLY AREN'T SINGING NOISES AT ALL?

Peepers, you've already broken the Internet this week.  You tryin' to break everyone's eardrums, too?

MOUSES!

PS.  As soon as I got hold of the peeps where my blog is registered, they fixed everythin' up RIGHT AWAY.  Like seriously, they fixed it within minutes.  But please note, it was I, Seville the Cat, who contacted them and NOT the first peep.  I should have them for IT support.  At least they know what they're doin', UNLIKE MY PEEP.  MOUSES!