in shock

Oh. My. Mouses.

MOUSES!

I'm tellin' ya, my friends.  I'm in shock.

I'm in shock.  Saffy's in shock.  We kitties are most definitely, DEFINITELY in shock.

Definitely.

In shock.

MOUSES!

So I was checkin' on my stash of boxes in the garage the other day.  Counting 'em, inspecting 'em, talking to 'em and letting 'em know how much I adore 'em and can't wait to bring 'em in the house and take a nap in 'em and play with 'em...  And maybe even give 'em a good scratching now and then.

You know, that sorta thing.

Well at least that's what I was GONNA do.

MOUSES!

Okay, so the truth is, I was headin' INTO the garage the other day to check on my stash of boxes, when...

When...

When...

When I discovered my stash of boxes was gone.

That's right, my friends: gone.  Gone, I tell you.  GONE!  Not a trace of 'em anywhere to be found.

MOUSES!

Well as you can imagine, the first thing I did was come inside the house, get on the phone, and call the police.  A missin' stash of boxes is not somethin' to mess around with, at all.  I KNOW how important it is to get the police on the case right away if there's gonna be any chance of gettin' your stash back, unharmed.

Learned that lesson the hard way when my stash of nip disappeared one year, only to find out - TOO LATE - that Peepers had gone and put it in the compost pile on account of the new harvest bein' ready and fresher and stuff, NEVER ONCE THINKIN' about how the older nip stash could have been used to stuff a cushion or somethin' for me to curl up on.

But that's a peep for you, isn't it.

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, I got on the blower right away with the police.

Well once the officer on the blower's other end stopped laughin'...

Silly man thought my call was some kinda prank.

So once the officer stopped laughin', he went and hung up on me.

Can you believe it?

MOUSES!

Well that's when Saffy and I decided we'd have to take matters into our own eight paws.  We'd have to investigate the case and close it ourselves.  And like I said before, we knew how important it was to start right away before the case went all cold like a long-forgotten pot of tea found the next mornin'.

MOUSES!

First thing needin' to be done was to interview all potential suspects, startin' with our numero uno, PRIMO suspecto, for sure: the peep.

MOUSES!

And that's when we found out that Peepers had gone and used OUR stash of boxes to put on the ground before fillin' up her new, STUPID raised garden beds.   She had gone and sliced 'em open, laid 'em flat, put 'em on the ground, and then covered 'em with dirt, like they were garbage or somethin'; and TOTALLY RUINING 'EM, for sure.

And that, my friends, is why Saffron and I are in shock.

It brings a kitty to tears.

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.

we're in need

HEY PEEPERS!  I'm in need of some help over here.

Yeah, yeah...   I know I'm not supposed to be orderin' a lot of unnecessary stuff on-line.  But the thing is...

THIS STUFF IS ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY.

For sure.

MOUSES!

'Cause Peepers, Saffy and I are in desperate - DESPERATE, I tell you - need of some boxes.

MOUSES!

Why?  You're askin' me WHY my brother and I are in need of boxes?

My gosh, she's actually dumber than I thought.

MOUSES!

Because, Peepers, cats need boxes.  We need boxes to play in; to sleep in; to hang around thinkin' about solvin' all the world's problems in; to uh...  Well you know, those sorta things.  Big important, world changin' things.

Bottom line is, WE'RE IN NEED OF SOME BOXES.

MOUSES!

'Cause Peepers, Saffy's box is dirty and mine is...  Well...  Old.  Mine needs replacin' right away.

I DON'T CARE what it is I'm orderin' on-line that comes in the boxes, as long as whatever it is ACTUALLY COMES INSIDE A BOX.

A BIG BOX.

A BOX OF ADEQUATE SIZE.

And speakin' of size...

And speakin' of size, I'm not sure if you've noticed this or not but Saffy is gettin' a little chunky in his old age.  He's gonna need a box that's a bit bigger than the one he's already got.

MOUSES!

I know, right?  RIGHT?  Cat eats like a bird and yet there he is, lookin' kinda...  Well...  Well the word rectangular kinda comes to mind.

You know, like a bread box.

BREAD BOX!  By gosh and by golly, I bet a bread box would come inside a nice big cardboard box.  A good sized cardboard box, to be sure.  You in need of a couple bread boxes, ol' peep of mine?

Don't bother answerin'.  Doesn't really matter if you need bread boxes or not.  Like I said earlier, I'm shoppin' for boxes.  Doesn't matter what's comin' inside.  

Peepers, how come you're lookin' that weird shade of green?  Puce?  Is that what's it's called?  Nah, that's not puce.

It's more like barf green.

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, now that I've figured out what to order, I'll need your plastic thing-a-ma-gig to place said order.  For some strange reason, it's not in the drawer where you usually keep it.  I don't know why.  Think it must have been accidentally misplaced.

Or somethin' like that.

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.

day of the box

Today is special, my friends.  Today is a very special day, for sure, for today is the DAY OF THE BOX.

IT'S BOXING DAY, today!

purrs

Yeah, yeah, I know.  It's also ninety-three weeks.

MOUSES!

So sure, I've spent the last five hundred and six million, two hundred and seventeen thousand, six hundred cats seconds of this ol' pandemic thingy cooped up with the peeps, but do you know what?

YOU KNOW WHAT?

YOU KNOW WHAT?

Today is the day when I'm not gonna let that bother me.  Nope, I'm not gonna let that bother me one bit, FOR TODAY IS THE DAY when I shall spend all seven hundred and seventy-seven thousand, six hundred cat seconds of the day, SITTIN' in a BOX.

WHERE ELSE WOULD ONE RATHER BE?

Nowhere, for sure.

MOUSES!

Now I know some peeps out there might be thinkin' that Boxin' Day has other meanings, but you know somethin', my friends?

THEY WOULD BE WRONG.

MOUSES!

'Cause when it comes to boxes, us cats know what's right and what's wrong.  SO WHEN IT COMES TO BOXIN' DAY, us cats know what's right about that, too!

And by extension, also what's wrong.

MOUSES!

Although technically, when you really think about the situation clearly, us cats know what's best about EVERYTHING, 'cause you know...

We're cats.

MOUSES!

Not our fault we cats are smarter than peeps.

MOUSES!

So today is the day when all cats need to grab a handy box and...

Well...

Well jump right in it, my friends!

Scratch that.  First, before you jump into your box, you should really inspect it bit, makin' sure it's clean and pristine.

You know, that sorta thing.

Nothin' worse than jumpin' into a dirty box, my friends.  Nothin' worse!

Scratch that.  NOT HAVIN' a box into which you can jump is actually worse than jumpin' into a dirty one but nevertheless, no one wants to have to have a bath on account of gettin' all dirtied up 'cause some stupid peep filled your Boxin' Day Box with dirt and stuff.  When a cat jumps into a box, havin' a bath is not the first thing a cat wants to do!

No sirree, first thing a cat wants to do after jumpin' into his or her Boxin' Day Box is have a nap.

FACT.

I know this from personal experience, I do.

Plus, I watched a documentary 'bout it on TV.

Or was that merely a Boxing Day dream...

Cats have those, you know.  Boxin' Day dreams, I mean.  We dream about boxes a lot.

FACT.

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.

what a waste

Ugh.

UGH!

Oh what a horrible waste.

MOUSES!

Of all the stupid, moused-up things for a stupid ol' peep to do.

MOUSES!

Oh hello there, my friends.  I was just thinkin' aloud.  Thinking 'bout how stupid Peepers is and 'bout the stupid thing she did this mornin' and...

WHAT A HORRIBLE WASTE!

MOUSES!

Pardon me?  You wanna know what Peepers did this time?

Well are you sittin' down, my friends?  You definitely need to be in a sittin' position to hear this, 'cause quite frankly, if you're standin' up and I tell you what I'm about to say, you'll likely collapse from shock.

I don't want my pals fallin' down and hittin' their heads, you see.

MOUSES!

Okay, here it is...

Are you ready?

This mornin', I found Peepers....

Oh, I just don't know if I can say it aloud.  

Okay.  Deep breaths.  This mornin'...  This mornin' I found Peepers...

THIS MORNIN' I FOUND PEEPERS CUTTIN' APART BOXES WITH A BOX CUTTER AND STUFFIN' LITTLE ITTY BITTY BITS OF PREVIOUSLY PERFECTLY GOOD BOXES INTO BLUE BAGS TO PUT OUT AS RECYCLIN' ALONG WITH THE GARBAGE.

With the garbage.

CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?

MOUSES!

And I was gonna use those boxes, my friends.  I was gonna use 'em for nappin' and playin' and just...  Well, you know...  Hangin' out in, in general, but now...

NOW I'VE BEEN ROBBED!

MOUSES!

How could she do such a thing, my friends?  How could she?  HOW COULD SHE STEAL MY PERFECTLY GOOD COLLECTION OF CARDBOARD BOXES?

It's not like I have an unlimited supply of boxes, you know.  It's not like I have a room stuffed to the ceilin' with so many boxes that I could never possibly use all of them in all my nine lives.

I NEEDED THOSE BOXES.

I still do.  *sniffs*

'Cept now...  Well now they're no longer boxes, are they.  *sniffs*  Now they're just flat pieces of cardboard paper stuffed in a blue bag, never to be enjoyed by a cat like me, again.  *sniff sniff*

OH THE TRAGEDY OF IT ALL!

If I weren't so distraught by this whole affair, I'd call up the RCMP, pronto, and make a complaint, askin' for charges to be laid.  But seein' those beautiful boxes chopped up into bits and pieces before bein' hauled to the curb has left me in a desperate state of despair.

I'VE BEEN ROBBED!

Okay, so I said that before but seriously, I have, and it's worth sayin' once more.

I'VE BEEN ROBBED!

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

NOT that I'm speaking to you or anythin' like that, Peepers.  But say what you must. and then I'LL DECIDE whether I'll listen or not.  Once I've heard what you've had to say, that is.  And let me tell you somethin', you stupid ol' peep, your apology had better be good.

You're claimin' the boxes you decimated and destroyed were just the small ones?  The ones too little for me to climb inside?

THAT A FAT JOKE OR SOMETHIN' THERE, PEEPERS?  You makin' fun of my size?  'Cause let me tell ya somethin': it's a well-known fact that we orange cats are what one might call, BIG BONED.

MOUSES!

And let me tell you somethin' else.  Excuses do not apologies make.  An excuse is an excuse and nothin' more.  An apology, on the other paw, includes the word sorry, shows some sort of contrition, and contains an ample about of begging (LIKE A DOG) for forgiveness.  Plus, an apology should include a promise to never ever commit such an horrific act again, so that I may then smugly inform you how you'd be better off thinkin' before actin', so that you didn't have to beg (LIKE A DOG) for forgiveness in the first place.  Or ever again.

You know, that sort of thing.

But so far I'm hearin' nothin' but excuses from you, and...

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

You mean to say there are still two good-sized boxes in the family room at this very moment?  Two good-sized boxes that are all totally mine?  Two good-sized boxes that are...

They're not chopped up, right?  They're both still in one piece?  This isn't some kind of cruel and horrible trick?

Hmm...

Well then I think I might be able to find it in my heart to forgive you, Peepers.

Maybe.

FOR NOW.

BUT DON'T YOU DARE CHOP UP MY BOXES AGAIN.

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 box

What do you MEAN that box wasn't for me?

MOUSES!

I'm tellin' ya, peeps can be such...

Such...

Such PEEPS.

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, the peep left out a couple boxes in the family room the other day.  They were pretty nice boxes, too.  One hundred percent authentic cardboard, they were.  You know, the good stuff.  Plain brown cardboard and fairly thick.  Nice and sturdy, for sure.

Not to mention bein' of an EXCELLENT size.

Just the right size for me.

MOUSES!

SO OBVIOUSLY...

So obviously, I jumped right in one and gave it a good scratch.

And that box turned out to be made of the perfect kinda cardboard for scratchin', too.  I was able to sharpen my claws on the base of the box without gettin' any ink and icky glossy stuff between my toes, like what sometimes happens when perfectly good cardboard has been RUINED by printin' stupid lookin' shiny pictures all over it and things.

Like I said earlier, THIS cardboard box was ONE HUNDRED PERCENT AUTHENTIC CARDBOARD.  Perfect for scratchin', for sure.

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, ol' Peepers had been off in another room - no doubt doin' somethin' stupid, on account of her bein' a peep and peeps' propensity for doin' stupid things - while I was takin' my new cardboard box out for a spin.

A test drive, one could say.

And then she returned.

And then...

And then, MOUSES!

Well my gosh, my friends, you SHOULD HAVE HEARD the language comin' out of the peep's mouth.

For a minute there, I thought she was auditionin' for some kinda HBO special or somethin' like that.

And her language was far from filled with the spirit of Christmas, I might add.

MOUSES!

So apparently...

So apparently, those two boxes I told you about?  Apparently, those boxes were not actually for me.

Accordin' to the peep.

MOUSES!

APPARENTLY, those two boxes were gonna be used to ship off some Christmas stuff through the mail.

AND APPARENTLY, once holes have been made by SOME KITTY - we won't say whom - scratchin' his way right through the bottom of a box....

SAID BOX CAN NO LONGER BE USED FOR MAILING.

Again, that's accordin' to the peep.

But you know, peeps can be tricky.  Peeps have been known to tell a kitty fibs just to throw a kitty off track.  The possibility exists that ol' Peepers might have said what she said just to make me feel all guilty and stuff, but still be plannin' to use that cardboard box.

Hmmm...

Well we can't have that now, can we.

Methinks me needs to go pee in that box, or give it a spay or somethin' like that.  I've found that once a box has been sprayed or peed in, no peep will ever consider using said box again.

MOUSES!

oohhh... what's this?

Well thank you very much, Mr. UPS driver, Sir.  You need me to sign for that or anythin'?  X on the dotted line?  Pawprint or somethin'?  Anythin' like that?

No?  Okay-dokey then.  And if you wouldn't mind puttin' that there box inside the house for me, that would be great.

MOUSES!

Now I wonder what this could be.  I don't remember ordering anythin'.  Not even anythin' advertised on TV.

Let's take a little looksie, shall we?

Hmmm...  Apparently, it's addressed to the peep.

MOUSES!

BUT WE ALL KNOW, what's hers is mine, and what's mine is...  Well...  MINE.

MOUSES!

So she should have no problem with my openin' it up.

You know, this here box - as big as it is - it really kinda light.  I wonder if there's anythin' in it at all.  It might just be a box.

WHAT AM I SAYIN'???

There's no such thing as JUST a box.  A Jack-in-the-box, sure, but not JUST a box.  A box is a box is a box.  An item to be treasured and...  Well...  Shall we say..  REVERED?  And actually, empty boxes are the very best kinda boxes, on account of an empty box bein' the perfect place for cat like me to hang out.  You put too much stuff in a box, and there's no room inside that there box for me, and that, my friends, SUCKS.


MOUSES!

I'll just use a claw to examine this uh...  Umm...  OOPSIE!  Now look at that.  My claw accidentally tore right through the tape on that there box.

I wonder how that happened.

OOPSIE!  However it happened, it happened again.

And once more?  You know, for good measure.  Plus, it's a well known fact that these things happen in threes.

MOUSES!

And now that the tape is all split and no longer holding the box shut, I might as well go ahead and open it up, and...

OH MY MOUSES!  THE PEEP BOUGHT ME YARN!  Oh what a glorious peep my peep can be.  One, two, three...  FOURTEEN balls of yarn.

Bet you didn't know I knew how to count that high, huh?

MOUSES!

So I wonder what I'm gonna do with all these balls of yarn.  I'm usually content with unravelling one ball at a time.  I really don't need any more than the one.  It's not like I know how to knit.

On the other paw, the peep does.  Know how to knit, I mean.  She's not so much into the unravelling thing.

Hmmm...

I think...  I think I'll toss these balls of yarn outta my way, outta this here box, and onto the floor.  Might keep one, though.  You know, to unravel later on.  But I have no need for the rest.

And once the balls of yarn are all gone...

NOW THAT'S A BEAUTIFUL SIGHT TO BEHOLD.


An empty box.

BUT NOT ANYMORE!

*settles down and curls up in said box*

They SAY money can't buy happiness, but do you know what?   Money can buy a box, and a box is happiness wrapped up with a bow.

MOUSES!

curvy gal

If I fits, I sits.

MOUSES!

And if she fits, she sits, too.

MOUSES!

But on the other paw...

On the other paw, those of you who know my sister, Mason, know she's uh...

Well...  

Well she's not the kinda kitty who likes to go without her supper.  She's rather uh...

Hmmm....

She's uh...  Somewhat...

HMMM...

Well she's what one might call a CURVY GAL, for sure.

Yeah, that's the ticket.

MOUSES!

But before we were talking 'bout Mason, we were talking 'bout boxes, and I bet you're all wonderin' why Mason's voluptuous curves have anythin' to do with boxes at all.

Well...

Well let's just say, sometimes those curves don't fit.

MOUSES!

Yesterday evenin', Peep #1 placed an empty box on the family room floor.  I don't know why she did it.  It wasn't actually a box meant for us cats.  It was just a...  Well...  A box.

But the general rule in my house is, no box remains empty for long, so...

So Mason immediately trotted over to inspect said box.

Now as it turns out, the box was not a big box, at all.  Oh, it wasn't super small, like a ring box, or anythin' like that.  It was much bigger than a ring box, for sure.   It was bigger than a shoe box, too.  But not by much.  And unfortunately, it was not bigger than...

Well...

Mason.

MOUSES!

But did that stop my sister from tryin' it out?

Never one to be daunted by the mere piddly size of a box, Mason immediately stated, "If I fit, I'm sure as mouses gonna sit," although not in those exact words.

Well first the front paws went into the box but alas, with the front paws inside, there was no room for her butt.  So then she tried squeezin' the tail end in first, but that didn't work out either.  Plus, there was an issue with balance.  Next thing she knew, both she and the box had tipped right over and they both ended up lyin' on their sides.  I, of course, offered to give her a push and a shove - you know, to squeeze her butt back in there -  but my attempts of assistance were met with resistance.  In other words, I was threatened with a smacky-paw to the chin.

MOUSES!

So that's when I decided to simply get up and walk away.

Shame Mason didn't follow my lead, 'cause...

'Cause the NEXT thing I knew...

Well...

Well let me ask you this:

When is a box not a box?

WHEN IT'S A HAT.

MOUSES!

That's right, my friends, Mason wore that box as if it were a hat.

Just like that ol' cat in a hat.

And she looked...

Well...

Ridiculous, in fact.

MOUSES!





BREAKING NEWS...  This just in...  The latest fashion trend to hit the Paris catwalks this spring is the bigger-than-a-pillbox-smaller-than-a-breadbox cardboard hat.

MOUSES!

the day of the box

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYBODY!

Scratch that.  Christmas was yesterday.  It's kinda all over now.

Hmmm...

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYBODY!

Scratch that, too.  It's too early for New Years.  That's not 'til next week.

Hmmm...

I know!

HAPPY BOXING DAY, MY FRIENDS.  May the power of the boxes be with you.

That's more like it.

MOUSES!

In case you hadn't heard, today is Boxin' Day, a day when Canadian kitties, from coast to coast to coast, celebrate boxes.

FYI, it is not a day for boxin' fur-sibs about the ears.

Apparently.

At least that's what I've been told.

Twice already, this mornin'.

MOUSES!

But anyway...

But anyway, as luck would have it, after the Christmas festivities were over yesterday, we were left with some really good sized boxes in the livin' room.  As a matter of fact, we were left with four good sized boxes, which, AS I WAS TOLD THIS MORNIN', TWICE, means that since there's a box for each one of us cats to use, there's no need for any of us to be boxin' our fur-sibs about the ears.

But in all fairness, the box Mason was in was the box I wanted.

You know what they say...

LOCATION. LOCATION. LOCATION.

MOUSES!

And it's not like Mason didn't box my ears right back.

TWICE.

MOUSES!

But do you hear the peeps complaining 'bout that?

OH NO...  APPARENTLY, retaliatory ear boxin' is PURRFECTLY acceptable 'round here.

Well not so much acceptable as uh...

Um...

Allowed.

Well actually, not so much allowed as uh...

Um...

Recognised as the inevitable, I suppose.

But retaliatory ear boxin' on account of other retaliatory ear boxin'?

Yeah, the peeps didn't go for that either.

MOUSES!

Of course, I pled not guilty on account of my bein' nipped at the time.

Of course, I'm plannin' on bein' nipped all this week, on account of Santa bringin' me the mother load of nip toys yesterday, so...

So...

So Mason might wanna wear somethin' on her head to protect her once again soon-to-be-boxed ears.

MOUSES!

the mornin' after

Oh my mouses.

OH MY MOUSES.

OH MY MOUSIE MOUSIN' MOUSES!

Ooohh...  my head.

MOUSES!

You're probably wonderin' what on Earth is the matter.  What on Earth is makin' me feel the way I feel.  Let me put it this way: Santa brought nip.

MOUSES!

Yup, he brought nip mice all right.

MOUSES!

Christmas mornin', I woke up and found myself up to my whiskers in the nip.  Up to my whiskers in nip mice, for sure.

But don't get me wrong!  I'm not complainin'.  Fact is, nip mice up to my whiskers is exactly what I was wantin' for Christmas, but still...

Well, maybe - JUST MAYBE - I might have overdone the nip.

NOT THAT A CAT CAN HAVE TOO MUCH NIP!

But still...  Well, maybe - JUST MAYBE - a cat can feel the effect of havin' too much nip.  And I'M FEELIN' THE EFFECT, for sure.

MOUSES!

What I need to do, is learn how to go easy on the nip.

BUT WE ALL KNOW THAT'S NEVER GONNA HAPPEN.

MOUSES!

Ooohh...  my head.

MOUSES!

Now you're probably sittin' there, sayin' to yourself, But Sivvers, Christmas Day was two days ago.  You haven't recovered from havin' too much nip, in two whole days?

Well firstly, I'd like to point out once again, a cat can really never have too much of the nip.  I just need to set that record straight, especially if Santa is readin' this here blog.  I don't want him thinkin' that next year he shouldn't be bringin' me nip.

And secondly, I'd like to point out that yesterday was Boxing Day.

What does Boxin' Day have to do with my havin' had too much nip, you ask?

Good question!  The answer is as follows.  You see, at our house, Boxing Day is always celebrated with boxes.  That's right, it's a day meant to be spent by hangin' out in any and all boxes that happen to be lying around the house.  And THE BEST WAY to enjoy a good box, is to spend time in said box while gettin' nipped.  Scratch that.  THE BEST WAY to enjoy a good box, is to spend time in said box while gettin' more nipped, on account of the fact that when Boxin' Day rolls around the day after Christmas, a cat like me is likely to be ALREADY somewhat...  Well...  Nipped.

MOUSES!

So long story short, I got nipped on Christmas Day, and continued nippin' right through 'til Boxin' Day evenin', and now, on December 27th...

Well...

Well that makes today, the mornin' after.

MOUSES!

And it's not like I'm the only nipped cat in the house.  Mason and Andy and Rushy and Toby?  Well they're all pretty nipped, too.

The peeps however, appear to be immune to the nip and that, my friends, is a good thing, 'cause let me tell you somethin'.

WE CATS AREN'T PREPARED TO BE SHARIN' OUR NIP.

MOUSES!

Oohhh...  my head.

I have GOT to stop talkin' so loudly.  My head is way too nipped for such loud talkin'.  Two days of nippin' and...

And...

And uh...

Hmmm...

IT'S TIME, METHINKS, TO GO GET MYSELF SOME MORE NIP.

MOUSES!

I fits, I sits

What the mouses?

MASON, WHAT ARE YOU DOIN'?

Uh, yeah.  That's not how that sayin' goes.

What's that?  No...  No, the sayin' is, I fits, I sits.  I should know, on account of my havin' said it many a time but...

But what?  But you say that that's what you're doin'.

Uh, no.  That's not what you're doin' at all. MOUSES!

I suppose I can agree with you on that. You ARE sittin'.  But as far as the fittin' part goes...

Mason, Mason, Mason...  *sighs*

Well for starters, that's a box.

Pardon me?  You say you know it's a box.

Okay...

Well tell me this then, Mason.  Do you know what to do with said box?

Scratch that.  I know perfectly well that you know what to do with boxes.  I've seen you in many a box before but...

Well...

DO YOU KNOW THAT THAT BOX IS A BOX?

And perhaps more to the point, DO YOU KNOW THAT IT ISN'T A HAT?  MOUSES!

Mason, in this here house, we cats do not wear hats.  We don't wear boxes, either.  We just don't. None of us do.  I repeat, NONE OF US.  One of us cats starts trottin' around the house wearin' a hat, and the next thing you know, Peep #1 will be knittin' us all beanies and stuff.  You know how she is.  MOUSES!

And how the heck are you keepin' that box on your head, anyway?

Oh...

I see.

It's stuck, you say.

Hmmm...

Well it probably has somethin' to do with it not bein' a hat in the first place. Maybe somethin' to do with it bein' a very small box, and you know, the fact that it actually IS a box.  MOUSES!

And why DID you decide to stick that box on your head?

Oh...

I see.

That wasn't your intention, you say.

Hmmm...

So you stuck your head in the box, to see if you would fit;  and when you tried to pull your head out of the box, the box came with your head.

Hmmm...

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!

Sorry.  I know.  It's not polite to laugh at sisters.  Even if they do have boxes stuck on their heads but...

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!

It may not be polite but it sure is fun.  MOUSES!

So anyway, Mason, how are you plannin' on gettin' your head unstuck from that there box?  Huh? HUH?  Inquirin' minds are gonna wanna know.  MOUSES!

Ah, you were hopin' I'd help you.  Help you get your head unstuck from the box.  You were hopin' I'd grab hold of one end, and pull it off your head, were you?

I don't know, Mason.  I've never been known to be overly helpful.

Plus, if I pull that box off your head before Peep #1 sees you...

Well she'd never forgive me, for sure.

HEY PEEPERS!  MASON HAS A BOX STUCK ON HER HEAD!!!  THAT'S RIGHT, SHE'S GONE AND GOT HER HEAD STUCK IN A BOX.  COME SEE!!!!!

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!

Mason, before the peep gets here to remove that box from your head, let me give you two pieces of advice. 

Number one is, there are some boxes into which, cats simply will not fit, and it should go without sayin' that in these boxes, one should NEVER attempt to sit.

And number two is, boxes and hats?  Two totally different things.  MOUSES!

Boxing Day rush

Can't stop now.  GOTTA RUN.  MOUSES!

Whew!  That was a close one, for sure.

Let me catch my breath.

Okay...

Okay, I bet you're all wonderin' what has my tail all twisted up in a dither.  Well the thing is... The thing is...  Well...

Well it all began the other day.

The other day, I happened to notice Peep #1's Facebook status.  "Livin' room looks like the aftermath of a catnip toy factory explosion," or somethin' like that.  I didn't think too much about it at the time because, truth be told, it did.  I figured the peep was just - you know - makin' a public service announcement of some sort.

But then that night, I was watchin' television, and I heard the TV peeps talkin' about Boxin' Day Blowouts and the like.  I assumed they were talkin' about the sales after Christmas but...  But... But combined with the peep talking 'bout catnip toy factory explosions...  Well...  Well...

Well my mind got to thinkin', and when I start thinkin', I start...

No, I do not start smokin' at the ears.

When I start thinkin', I start connectin' the dots.

NO.  Not the red dots.  The elusive red dot is far too elusive to be connected to anythin'. MOUSES!

But back to those other dots.

My mind was a whirlin' like the peep with a Cat Teaser toy, after her fourth cup of coffee.

Talk of a catnip toy factory explosion led to explosions, which led to blowouts, which led to Boxin' Day blowouts which, of course, led to Boxin' Day, which led to BOXES.

NOW I bet you're gettin' the picture, for sure.

And then if that wasn't bad enough, I heard the peep say somethin' about cleanin' up the mess in the livin' room.

Well I got to thinkin' once more.  Had any of us cats tossed our cookies in the livin' room since Christmas Day?  Not that we actually ate any cookies to toss, but even so, we are not immune to tossing 'em without eating 'em, if you know what I mean.

But as the answer to the cookie tossin' question was no, I had to ask myself if any of us kitties had made any other messes in there.  Had any of us pooped or peed where poopin' and peein' is not to be done?

Again, the answer was no.

So what the mouses was the peep talkin' about when she said mess?

And then...  And then...  And then...

And then it hit me like a tonne of bricks.

Ouch!

PEEP #1 WAS PLANNIN' ON CLEANIN' UP ALL OF OUR TOYS.  MOUSES!

But deep down, I knew that wasn't the case, because those toys are ours and no one - I repeat, NO ONE - can clean 'em up on account of their not bein' dirty.

But what if...  What if... What if...

What if she was gonna clean up all the other stuff?  You know, like the tissue paper and worse than that...

THE BOXES???

MOUSES!!!

So that, my friends, is the reason for my bein' so out of breath.  I've been runnin' around, rescuing boxes from Peep #1.  Rescuing 'em before the peep can get at 'em with the box cutter, and bag 'em all up for recycling.

Not that I consider recyclin' to be a bad thing.  I don't! As a responsible citizen of this world, I consider recycling to be absolutely necessary.

AS LONG AS THEY'RE NOT RECYCLIN' MY BOXES.  MOUSES!

So anyway, I don't know 'bout you, but my post Boxin' Day rush has been a real doozie, for sure.

What's that, Mason?  I missed a box?  And the peep has spotted it?  And she has the box cutter in her paws?

Excuse me, my friends.  It appears that my post Boxin' Day rush is not yet over.  MOUSES!

she fits, she sits

Tobias says that if she fits, she sits.

On the other paw, maybe not.  MOUSES!

My sister, Tobias, is a pretty little cat.  Yup, she's pretty and she's little.  She's pretty little, too.  MOUSES!

The peeps are always saying that even though Tobias is all grown up and everything, she's really just the size of a kitten.  A kitten that might be about five or six months old, they say.

Of course, my doctor has been known to say otherwise.  My doctor says that Tobias is actually of normal size.  Thing is, when a normal-sized kitty is compared to marmalade cats like those two long-haired brothers of mine, the normal-sized kitty ends up looking pretty little no matter how big she really is.

You noticed how I didn't say Tobias looked small when compared to me, huh?  Yeah, well...  Well... Well never mind.  MOUSES!

Anyway, 'bout an hour ago or so, while I was sitting at my desk staring at my computer, dreaming of nip mice and wondering what-oh-what I should blog about today, on account of my having gone through my whole list of upcoming blog post topics and not finding a single one that I wanted to tackle at the mo, my sister Tobias hopped down from the windowsill and trotted across the floor. She was heading straight for a box Peep #1 had so carelessly left on the floor, over in the corner.

I'm not sure what had been in the box before.  Something for the peep, I'm guessing.  It wasn't nip. I'm positive of that.  Had there ever been nip in that there box, I would know.  The shipping of nip in cardboard boxes always leaves a slightly nippy scent, you see.  A scent I can readily detect with my nip-detecting nose.  MOUSES!

But whatever had been in that box, it must have been small, for the box itself was small and therefore capable of only holding small things.

And that brings me back to my sister, Tobias.

Now like I said, Tobias is little.  Little as little can be.  Little like that little cardboard box.

NO, I wasn't thinking of putting Tobias in the box and shipping her anywhere although truth be told...

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

FINE.  I have been informed that we don't ship cats places in cardboard boxes.  That no matter how much cats might like cardboard boxes, they don't wanna be in 'em while the boxes are being shipped. I really wasn't gonna ship my sister anywhere, anyway.  Wasn't even thinking 'bout it.  MOUSES!

But maybe Tobias was.

Actually, Tobias was just thinking about getting herself inside that box.  She wasn't thinking of going anywhere in it.

So Tobias approached the box.  Tobias got up close and personal with the box.  She wanted to become one with the box.  She eyed it.  She sniffed it.  I think she might have even licked it!  She gave it the once-over, for sure.

The fact that the box wasn't as long as Tobias, didn't stop her.  The fact that the box wasn't as tall as Tobias, didn't stop her, either.  She put in one paw and then the next and then the...

It was about the time when Tobias decided to put a third paw into the box, that she began to realize there might be a problem.  Nevertheless, the third paw went into that box.

When Tobias decided to put her fourth paw inside the box, she knew she had a problem.  You see, the fourth paw wouldn't fit.  Well technically, the paw itself fit.  It was just all the Tobias in between those four paws for which there was no room.

Tobias stood there with all four paws inside that ol' box, while most of the rest of her protruded out of its top.  She stood there for a few minutes and then...  Then she must have decided that maybe - just maybe - the box wasn't big enough for her, after all.  That's when she started to move.


Did I say move?  I meant, sway.

So Tobias started to sway to her right and as she swayed, so did the box.

She swayed a little further and again, so did the box.

A little bit more and...

Long story short, there is now a small box lying on its side on the floor, in the corner of my office, and Tobias is back up on the windowsill, washing her face, looking like nothing ever happened at all. MOUSES!

So we can safely say that that ol' adage of she fits, she sits might be better worded as, she fits nots, she sways LOTS and luckily for me, I now have a topic for my blog post today.  Yay!!!  Thanks Tobias. You are one good sister to have.  If I need your help on Sunday, I'll let you know, for sure. MOUSES!