watch out!

WATCH OUT, PEEPERS!

Fine.  DON'T listen to me, then.

See if I care.

Just don't come complainin' to me later.  You needn't come complainin' to me, at all!

'Cause seriously, Peepers, you'll get no sympathy from me.  No sympathy, whatsoever.  Not an ounce, nor an iota.  Not a mite, nor a speck, nor a crumb.  Not even a scintilla.

MOUSES!

Oh Peepers....

Yeah, you.

Uh Peepers, you happen to notice you've gone and wet your pants, there?

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!

Oh my mouses, that's funny.  Excuse me, Peepers, while I roll over onto my other side and laugh at you some more.

BWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

Oh my mouses, I'M KILLIN' IT HERE!

Peepers wet her pants...  Peepers wet her pants...  Peepers wet her pants...

MOUSES!

Okay, so the peep didn't wet her pants all by herself.  She had some help.  Yup, she had a little help, for sure.

And that help came from, as you might have guessed, Andy.

So this is why it happened: The peep, bein' a peep, didn't listen to me.

What?  I need to explain more?  REALLY?  'Cause seriously, my friends, I thought my explanation was pretty self-explanatory.  The peep didn't listen to me and, as a result of her not listenin', she went and wet her pants.


MOUSES!

Okay, I shall endeavour to elaborate.

Andy was scarfin' down the treats, like only an Andy can do, immediately prior to hoppin' onto the chesterfield in the family room.  Then, due to his scarfin', Andy threw up.  Yup, that long-haired marmie freak of a brother of mine threw up right there on the chesterfield in the ol' family room.

MOUSES!

But the thing is, the peep didn't realise Andy had thrown up.  Oh sure, she knew he had coughed a little, but she didn't know he had actually tossed his cookies, so to speak.

And in a way, he hadn't.  Toss his cookies, I mean.  'Cause firstly, he had been eatin' treats, and not cookies, so he had no actual cookies to toss.  And secondly, what he threw up was mostly liquid.  There were some specks of non-liquid sick, but those specks of throw-up were kinda the same colour as the cotton throw on the chesterfield, so...

So the peep didn't see 'em, at all.

Now here comes the important part.  The most important part of this here entire story.  This is the part that is more important than anythin' else, and had the peep been listenin' to me, LIKE SHE SHOULD HAVE BEEN DOIN', she would never have gone and wet her pants.

MOUSES!

I. TOLD. The peep. To watch. Out.

That's right, my friends.  I. TOLD. THE PEEP. TO WATCH. OUT.

Yup, that's just what I did.  I said to the peep, "WATCH OUT!" and I said it just like that, too.

MOUSES!

But did the peep listen to me?  Did the peep listen as peeps always should?

OF COURSE NOT.  After all, she is just a peep.  Apparently, Peep #1 thinks she's too good to listen to a kitty like me.

MOUSES!

Well the next thing I knew, Peep #1 had gone and sat down on the chesterfield, right there on the spot where Andy had thrown up.

And...

AND PEEP #1 WET HER PANTS.

MOUSES!

It just goes to show you, peeps should always listen to us cats.  Yup, they should always listen to us cats, for sure.

Hey Peepers!  You know what?  You really ought to go change those pants.

MOUSES!

and in other news...

I threw up.  Yeah, I did. MOUSES!

I don't do a lot of horkin' blog posts.  In fact, this might be my very first one.  Thing is, I don't do a lot of horkin' so if I were relyin' upon horkin' incidents to induce the writing of blog posts, I wouldn't be writin' many posts on my blog.

Now if my Aunties Primrose or Blossom were the authors of Nerissa's Life, it would be an entirely different story. Those two have been horkin' on a regular basis for seventeen years.  MOUSES!

But my aunties are not the authors of this here blog.  I, Nerissa the Cat, am the sole author of Nerissa's Life.  I write all my own stuff.

Dare I say it?   Yeah, why not?  MOUSES!

I suppose the big news wasn't really that I threw up, though.  The big news was where and when I did it.  Let me explain...

The other night, I insisted upon sleepin' in my office.  I don't do that a lot but the other night, I was determined.   I begged and I begged and I begged and finally, Peep #1 relented.  I was in.  But why should I have to beg to sleep in my office?  It is my office.  Surely I have a right to sleep in it. Again I must say, MOUSES!

Actually, sleepin' in my office is not recommended on account of there bein' no litter box in there.   What's more, once the door is closed, access to the kitchen is lost which means, no snacks.  I do enjoy a midnight snack but figured I could forgo late-night snackin' on this one occasion.

Anywho...  sometime durin' the night, my tummy felt a little queasy and decided to act up like an actin' troupe doin' improvisational juggling gymnastics and you guessed it...  I threw up.

By mornin', I was feelin' fine.  I managed to enjoy my regular breakfast and perform my ritual mornin' garden inspection all before headin' back into my office to check my mail, visit with pals on Twitter and Facebook and finally, do a little work on my blog.

That was when Peep #1 called out to me sayin', "Nissy, I need to check my e-mail before you start blogging."   She sat down at my desk, swung her legs around the chair and emitted a loud cry. "Ewww!" could be heard throughout the land.  Did you hear it? Yeah, I'm bettin' you did.  MOUSES!

I looked at the peep.  The peep looked at me.  "Yeah, I threw up last night, Peepers.  Did I forget to mention that?" I asked, scratchin' behind my ear.  "Why did you go and put your rear paw in it?  You should learn to be more careful," I explained.

I shall not repeat the dialogue which ensued for fear of my blog bein' beeped out of existence by the foul language police.  MOUSES!

And in other news...  I'm past 3700 likes on my Facebook page now.  Ever so excited 'bout that. I'm really hopin' to make it to 5000 by Christmas.  I wonder if I could ask for likes when I write to Santa.  Hmmm...  I wonder if he can arrange that.  Probably.  Santa can arrange most things when he puts his mind to it.

And I have over 4000 pals on Twitter.  That's pretty excitin'.  Perhaps I should ask Santa to help me with that, as well.  Help me reach 5000.  I'll have to think about that.

Of course, I'm still hopin' for a Senate appointment.  Feel free to mention that fact to Prime Minister Stephen Harper if you're ever talkin' or tweetin' with him.  I'm sure he'd appreciate the reminder. #Niss4Senate for sure!

Oh, and nosey-neighbour-cat's sister is headin' off to law school, today.  That's a good thing, I think. If I ever get that Senate appointment, I might find myself in need of a lawyer.  It seems that a lot of 'em, do.

And speakin' of politics, I hear that some peeps at Toronto City Hall are gettin' into the discussion 'bout changin' the wordin' of our National Anthem.  Some peeps don't like the fact that it uses the word, "sons," thereby excludin' all the daughters.  What about the cats?

I asked Peep #1 what she thought about this.  As one of those daughters, I figured she'd have an opinion about it but I was wrong.  Peep #1 said, "Frankly, my dear Nissy, I don't give a mouse." Scratch that.  Actually, she just said she couldn't care less as she had bigger fish to fry.

I said in reply, "Fish?  Really?  You're fryin' fish?  Pass a plate on over to me, would ya?"  I never did get any of that fish.  MOUSES!

And the peep planted more plumeria seed.  Guess she did that instead of fryin' the fish.

But will the woman never learn?  Rockies are wreakin' havoc on the plumies she has and she goes and plants more seed.  Honestly, I've gotta wonder 'bout my peep.

On the other paw, I'm hard at work developin' a new feature for my blog. That's right, I have somethin' new in the works.  Unfortunately, there's somethin' else in those works, pluggin' them up.

You see, I'm havin' a tough time figurin' out how to make the technical stuff for this feature work.  I sure could do with some better IT support, you know? Peep #1 is pretty much useless and, I'm afraid, she's all I've got.  MOUSES!

Well that's all the news for today.  I think I've pretty much covered everything.  Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go see if the peep ever caught any of those bigger fish and if so, I'm gonna get her to fry some of 'em up.  I think she can probably handle that.