I'm all that and more

They just can't help themselves.

MOUSES!

I'm a ladies' mancat, for sure.

MOUSES!

I'm a TOTALLY IRRESISTIBLE chick mag, my friends.

MOUSES!

I am all that, and more.

Not that I want to...  You know...  Blow my own horn.

Or boast, or crow, or bluster, or gloat!

I'm far too shy and modest for that. 

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, did any of you cats out there read 'bout how CNN has listed the Province of Nova Scotia as bein' a top tourist destination this summer?

It's a fact.

And did any of you cats out there read about why?

Well the truth is, they didn't really talk about why, a lot, and they certainly left out the most important reason for visitin' my province, for sure.

You know...

ME.

MOUSES!

It's a fact.

So to speak.

But I can't think of any OTHER reason.  Can you?

MOUSES!

Plus, I even have evidence on paw.  The EVIDENCE is on my side, for sure.

Let me give you an example.  The other day, I was gettin' some blood work done at the ol' blood-suckin', pokin', and prickin' place...

I mean, hospital.

Anyway, after the nurse sucked me nearly dry, leavin' hardly but one drop of blood to keep me goin', I was asked to hang out on the exam table for a bit, and wait for my doctor to appear.

And when my doctor came in, what did she do?

Did she give me an exam?

Nope.

Did she run more tests?

Nope.

She didn't even take my temperature!

And that, my friends, was a relief to say the least, 'cause the takin' of one's temperature when you're a cat is never a fun thing to do.

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, the doctor came in and I'll ask again, what did she do?

Well he petted me, stroking my lovely orange furs.  She tickled me under my chin.  She even told me how handsome I am.

Which, by the way, I already knew but bein' told you're a good-lookin' boy never gets old in the least.

MOUSES!

And then that, my friends, was that.

MOUSES!

Clearly, SHE COULDN'T KEEP HER HANDS OFF ME.

And she didn't even charge for the visit.

It's true!

Yup, all the peep paid for was the blood work.  There were no consultation fees or anythin' like that.  Nothin' charged for the actual appointment.  Nothin' charged for takin' time out of my doctor's day.  Nothin' charged for...

WAIT. A. MINUTE.

I should have been charging HER.

She got to pet me and stroke my lovely orange furs.  She got to tickle me under my chin.  She even got to tell me how handsome I am.

And what did I get in return?

I got stuffed in a crate, not to mention havin' my precious bloods stolen.

MOUSES!

Well I certainly hope all those tourists CNN are sendin' this way know they're gonna have to PAY UP if they wanna meet me.

Of course, they can always pay me in catnip and treats.

MOUSES!

we're not speaking

I'm not speaking to you.

Hey Peepers, you hear that?  I'm not speaking to you.

Well uh...

Well I was just wonderin' if you KNEW I wasn't speaking to you.   I thought maybe you might have been thinkin' it was merely COINCIDENTAL that I've turned 'round in this chair so that my back is to you, at the same time while I'm not speaking.

You know, to you.

Well yeah, I had to say something.  I had to say something so that you KNEW I wasn't speaking to you.

Boy-oh-boy Peepers, you sure are slow on the uptake.

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, like I said, I'm not speaking to you.

*silence*

Er-hm...  You wanna know WHY I'm not speaking to you, Peepers?

*silence*

Er-hm...  HEY PEEPERS!  Aren't you wonderin' why I'm not speaking to you?

*nothing but the sound of a cat's tail impatiently tapping*

PEEPERS!  In case you hadn't noticed, I'm not speaking to you, AND THE REASON I'm not speaking to you is because you took me to the doctor yesterday for blood work and stuff, and ALLOWED them to steal my blood.

Allowed?  What am I sayin'?  You PAID 'em to steal my blood, Peepers.  Personally, I think they should be the ones payin' me.  Don't peeps get paid for sellin' their blood?

Not in Canada, huh?

Hmmm...

Still, I'm very upset with you for lettin' that nurse steal my blood.  I mean, I NEED my blood.  They stole so much, I feel downright faint.

*holds paw to brow and feigns fainting, collapsing backwards in the chair*

So now...

So now I'm not speaking to you, Peepers.  Hope you're happy with what you've done.  Hope you're happy with the decision you made.  Hope you're satisfied.  Hope you're...

ARE YOU PAYIN' ATTENTION TO ME PEEPERS?

Sorry for yellin' there, ya ol' peep.  I wasn't sure if you were payin' attention or not.  I wasn't sure if you were aware how upset I am with your actions, and that uh...  You know...  That I'm no longer speaking to you.  You were bein' awfully quiet, you see, and...

ARE YOU STILL PAYIN' ATTENTION TO ME PEEPERS?

Boy-oh-boy I'm tellin' ya, my peep can be downright rude.  What good is my showing her my displeasure of her actions by not speaking to her, if she doesn't notice I'm not speakin'?

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, Peepers, in case you hadn't noticed, I'm not speakin' to you, AND SINCE I'M NOT SPEAKING TO YOU, I can't get into a lot of the details as to why, BUT LET IT BE KNOWN that I am very displeased.  Yes, definitely.  VERY much so.  I'm VERY DISPLEASED with your actions yesterday, and to let you know JUST HOW VERY UPSET I AM, I'm gonna lie here on this chair with my back to you, and bury my head in the corner, right under this throw pillow and...

AND NOT SPEAK TO YOU.

I can't hear you...

Nope, I can't hear you, Peepers.  I can't hear you at all.  I can't see you, so you can't see me not seeing you, and I can't hear you, either.  Nope, I can't hear anythin' with my head half-buried under this pillow, and...

I TOLD YOU I CAN'T HEAR YOU.

AND I TOLD YOU I'M NOT SPEAKING TO YOU, EITHER.

Boy-oh-boy, that ol' peep of mine just can't get it through her thick skull that I'm not speaking to her.

MOUSES!

GRRR...

Oof!

Ugh.

GRRR...

Mouses woman, watch where you're puttin' my tail.

Three legs in?  You think that's gonna stop me?  THINK AGAIN, Peepers.  As long as I've got one leg not in the carrier...

TOO LATE!  I managed to get a second leg out.  Haha!  And now for a thir....

GRRR...

I looked about, furtively.  What to do, what to do...  How could I make my escape?

I KNOW!

Pssssssssssssss...

Yup, you heard right, my friends.  I, Seville the Cat, peed.  I Peed uPon the PeeP.

MOUSES!

Of course, since my hind legs and tail were actually inside the carrier at the time...

Okay, so I, Seville the Cat, managed to pee on the towel in the carrier, and not upon the peep.

MOUSES!

But then, do you know what she did next?

DO YOU?

Well I'll TELL you what she did next.

The peep, bein' a peep, stuffed the rest of me inside the carrier, and managed to shut its door, tight.

MOUSES!

I'm tellin' ya, I thought she'd at least let me out and give me a chance to clean myself up.  You know, while she kept herself busy cleaning up the crate.

After all, that IS what she did last time.

Of course, now that I think about it, the LAST time...  Hmmm...  You know, I think I kinda recall peein' on the peep TWICE, the last time she was puttin' me into a crate.  Once with the first attempt, and then again whilst she was tryin' to get me back inside the crate after cleanin' out...  Well...  Said crate.

Guess she learned a lesson, huh?

And who knew my peep could learn anythin' new?  I mean, they say you can't teach an old dog new tricks.  Who knew new tricks could be taught to a slightly used peep?

MOUSES!

Peepers!  Careful with how you're handling this crate.  I AM in it, you know.  Stop jostling me about like that.

MOUSES!

Humph.  The last time I went to see the doctor for blood work, I was put in a super duper large metal cage thingy.  Now I say, "case thingy," on account of it not bein' an actual cage.  Oh sure, it looked like a cage.  It even smelled like a cage.  But the nurse said it wasn't a cage, at all.  She said - as she shoved me inside - that it was more like a special, enclosed pedestal or THRONE.

But anyway...

Anyway, the last time I was there, my doctor crawled right inside my special, enclosed pedestal slash throne with me.  Can you believe it?  Yup, that's just what she did.  I guess she wanted special treatment, too.  Special treatment reserved for special kitties like me.

But the last time I went to see the doctor, I wasn't nearly as annoyed with Peep #1 as I am today.

Plus, as I mentioned earlier, the LAST TIME I went, I managed to pee ON the peep, as well as the inside of the carrier.

But THIS time...

I WAS DEPRIVED.

So...

So this time, if Doctor T crawls into the special, enclosed pedestal slash throne with me...

Let's just say, they don't call it a throne for nothin'.

MOUSES!