we're not speaking

I'm not speaking to him anymore, Peepers.

Him?

Hmmm...

Her.

No, that can't be right.

It.

I'm not speaking to it anymore, Peepers.

MOUSES!

And don't even TRY to convince me otherwise.  I've made up my mind.  I'm never speaking to it again.

Never.

Not ever.

Not for any reason.

EVER.

'Cept maybe to tell it to GET OUTTA MY FACE.

MOUSES!

I know, I know..  I know what you're thinkin', my friends.  You're THINKIN', I've had a spat with one of my fur-sibs.

But you know somethin'?  That would be wrong.  I'm not currently spattin' with any of my fur...

Wait a minute.  Hold on.  Uh...  I need to check on somethin'.  Be right back.

Nope, I've checked the calendar, and my current spat with Andy expired earlier today, so I was right.  There are no fur-sib spats goin' on at my house.  At least not at the moment.

Truth be told, I don't even remember what that last spat I had with Andy was about.  But that is neither here nor there, my friends, for a spat is spat.  FACT.


MOUSES!

You wanna know with whom my current spat is?

Come on...  I know you do.  I know you wanna, for sure.

Okay, you FORCED it out of me, my friends.  I am currently not speakin' to my Cat Dancer toy.

MOUSES!

You know, once upon a time - why, just last week, in fact - my Cat Dancer toy was my very favourite toy of all time.  But then the other day, Peep #1 and I were playin' with it, and do you know what it did?

You don't?

Well I'll TELL you what it did.

It...  It...  IT...

It went and bonked me, right on my nose.

MOUSES!

And that kinda hurt, you know?  I mean, it didn't really hurt my nose all that my much.  It actually didn't hurt my nose at all.  But my feelings?  Well my feelings were hurt, for sure.  It was devastating, really.  I was DEVASTATINGLY HURT.

MOUSES!

And so THAT'S why I'm no longer speaking to my Cat Dancer toy.  Never again will we frolic together in the family room.  Never again will I tell it, it's my favourite toy.  Never again will...

Wait a minute...

Hold on....

WHAT THE MOUSES?

One second.  I'll be right back.

ANDY, HOW DARE YOU PLAY WITH MY CAT DANCER TOY!  YOU GIVE THAT BACK.  YOU GIVE THAT TOY BACK TO ME RIGHT NOW.   DON'T YOU DARE GET YOUR FREAKY, LONG-HAIRED MARMIE SLOBBER ALL OVER IT.  DON'T YOU DARE!

Come to Papa, Cat Dancer Toy.  Your Sivvers is here.  Your darling Sivvers will SAVE you from that mean old, long-haired, marmalade freak.

MOUSES!

the nip mouse

Okay, okay...  Don't get your knickers in a twister there, Peepers.  Just Calm. The Mouses. Down.

Now let me get this straight.  So Peepers, are you saying you're upset about my leavin' a nip mouse on your pillow, OR are you upset 'bout the fact that the nip mouse in question was covered in slobber?  I need some clarification here.  You know, to make sure we're both on the same page.

'Cause in all honesty, Peepers, I think my sharin' my nip mouse with you is really very generous of me.  Generous enough that I should probably have heard a thank you or somethin' by now.  At least a nod of appreciation.

Wait!  Before you give me your answer, I just wanna point somethin' out.  If it's the slobber that's botherin' you....

IT ISN'T MINE.

You can thank Andy for that.

Actually, if we're bein' REALLY honest with one another...

Well, had it not been for all that icky ol' slobber, I probably wouldn't have given you the nip mouse in the first place.  So maybe you should be thankin' Andy for the nip mouse, too.

MOUSES!

Uh...  Did I use the word, icky?

Hm...  I MEANT to use the word...

Nah, icky was what I meant, for sure.

And I know that because...

Well...

Well because icky is the word I used when I discovered that my nip mouse was all covered with Andy's slobber.

MOUSES!

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

Oh, I see.

So you're sayin', what upset you 'bout the nip mouse was that you rolled over in your sleep, and got the slobbered upon nip mouse right in your face, huh?

Huh.  Well I can understand your not bein' happy 'bout that.  I know I don't like gettin' a face full of slobber.  I don't even like gettin' my own slobber on my face, so I certainly wouldn't enjoy a face full of someone else's.

MOUSES!

Wait a minute, Peepers.  I need some further clarification.  Okay, so I'm down with your not likin' the face full of slobber bit, but did you also have a problem with there bein' slobber in the first place?  Was the fact that the nip mouse was covered in slobber also a problem for you?

'Cause I think I alluded to the fact before, had there been no slobber on the nip mouse, there would have been no nip mouse at all.  At least not one I'd be willin' to share.

Well don't just stand there like a mute stupidy-dupe, Peepers.  Spit it out.  Is your problem the fact that the aforementioned slobber ended up on your face, OR is your problem the actual existence of said slobber?  Come on, Peepers.  Inquirin' minds wanna know.

Whose inquirin' mind?

Well MY inquirin' mind, of course.

MOUSES!

YES, I want to know.

Actually, it's more like a need.  I NEED to know, Peepers.  I need...

Why?

Well...

Well 'cause maybe - just maybe - I might have another slobbered upon nip mouse to give you.  And maybe - just maybe - I'm wonderin' where I should leave this second mouse.  'Cause if the only problem is the fact that you ended up with slobber all over your face...  Well...  Well then, I could leave this second slobbered upon nip mouse down by your feet or somethin', couldn't I?  But if you're havin' a problem with the existence of the slobber in general, that's a totally different thing.  In that case, maybe you wouldn't appreciate my givin' you another nip mouse at all.  MAYBE...

No Peepers.  NO.

'Cause like I already told you...

Well, it's more like I implied, I suppose.   Insinuated might be more like it.  But surely by now, you should have been able to infer...

YOU'RE NOT GETTIN' ANY OF MY UNSLOBBERED UPON NIP MICE AS GIFTS.

'Cause those ones, I still like.  'Cause those ones, I'm still usin'.  'Cause those ones, I need.

Peepers, Peepers, Peepers...  It's just the nip mice Andy slobbered all over that I'm tryin' to get rid...

Uhhh...

I mean, dispose of...

Hmmm...

I ACTUALLY MEAN, GRACIOUSLY GIVE to my VERY FAVOURITE PEEP.

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

So you're sayin' you don't want ANY nip mice, at all, if they've been slobbered upon?  You don't want the slobber near your face?  Or by your feet?  Or anywhere near your person?

Really?

Oh.

Well in that case...

Well in THAT case, I'll see if I can sell the slobber covered nip mice on EBay.  I bet I can.  Peeps will buy anythin' from anyone over there.  All I need do is play up their description and stuff.  You know, change well used to loved.  Old and slightly damaged to antique.  Slimy to moisturised.  Slobber to...  To uh...  Well...  Well, maybe I had best leave the slobbered upon bit out.

MOUSES!

one cat's trash

ONE CAT'S TRASH IS SOME MAN'S TREASURE.

Okay, so that's not quite how that sayin' goes.

BUT IT SHOULD.  MOUSES!

Here in Nova Scotia, every spring and fall, we have a clean-up week where peeps get to put out extra garbage and stuff on garbage day after...  You know...  After they're finished cleanin' up.  But from what I've observed, there's more than one kind of cleanin' up goin' on here.

Apparently, some peeps just kinda trade garbage.  Instead of just gettin' rid of garbage, some peeps trade their garbage for their neighbours' garbage.  It's true!  I know 'cause I've been watchin' how lots of peeps go 'round lookin' for things they might salvage from the stuff their neighbours put out and I'm thinkin', maybe their neighbours are doin' the very same thing.  And from the look of the amount of stuff stuffed in their cars, some peeps are REALLY cleanin' up, for sure. MOUSES!

Basically, clean-up week is this big free-for-all where peeps drive 'round the neighbourhood, grabbin' up whatever trash...  I mean, treasure, they might find.

Like for instance, we cats had this puny little scratchin' post thing that Peep #1 decided to put out. I was okay with her throwin' it out.  After all, it was kinda on the small side for most of us cats.  In fact, I've lost track of how many times those long-haired marmie brothers of mine knocked it down on account of their bein' both bigger and heavier than said post.

Plus, most of the carpet part had worn off due to overuse.

Then the ropey stuff the peep glued onto it, to replace the worn carpet...  Well most of that had worn off, too.

And then Dionysus - the timeshare cat - lifted his tail in its direction and peed on it.  MOUSES!

So when the peep said she was thowin' that puny little ol' scratchin' post out, I was in agreement, for sure.

But like I said, one cat's trash is some man's treasure, 'cause no sooner did it go onto the curb, but some guy came along and snatched it right up.

I'm thinkin' he didn't know 'bout how Dionysus had sprayed on it.  MOUSES!

Of course, I, Seville the Cat, have known about how one peep's trash can be some cat's treasure for quite some time now.  Most cats do know this instinctively which is why, on occasion, we are inclined to rummage through garbage bins.  MOUSES!

You know, I can't tell you how many times I've had to rescue a milk jug ring from the peep.

And when it comes to rescuing milk jug rings, I have to be super quick, 'cause the moment Peep #1 gets 'em off the milk jugs, she's cuttin' them in half with the scissors.  She says she's protecting turtles and things.  Well let me tell you, if she really wanted to protect the turtles, she'd just give all those milk jug rings to me in the first place.  MOUSES!

You ever batted a milk jug ring around on the kitchen floor?  Good times, for sure.

And then there's the crumpled up paper.

What the mouses is the peep thinkin' about when she puts crumpled up papers into recycling? CLEARLY, she's not thinkin' about tossing 'em to us cats, for chasin'.

Nothin' beats a good crumpled up paper ball chase in the kitchen except...  Maybe...  Battin' around a plastic milk jug ring.  MOUSES!

And don't even get me started on string.

I have yet to salvage a single strand of string from the peep, although goodness knows I've tried. She says it isn't safe for kitties to play with string.  At least not unattended.  I say, if it weren't safe, it would say so on the string.

You know, like how it says on plastic bags how peeps shouldn't stick their heads in 'em and stuff. I'm a cat and even I know better than that.

Of course, maybe I know better because I AM a cat.  After all, peeps do tend to be pretty slow on the uptake.  MOUSES!

Goodness knows how some peeps think.

Hmmm...  Goodness knows IF some peeps think, too.  MOUSES!

But back to the trash.  I mean treasure.  I mean...  Whatever.

A little while ago, the peep put out a bag filled with used kitty litter and I'm anxiously waitin' for someone to come along and snatch it up as their newfound treasure.

So far, there have been no takers.

MOUSES!