it didn't end there

Now as you might remember from my last blog post, the other day, we had a chippy in the house.

Yup, that's right: a chippy was In. The. House.

MOUSES!

And of course, it was all Peepers' fault.

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, the story didn't end there.  No siree, the story did not end with the chippy gettin' in the house.

Did I say gettin'?  Gettin' as in gettin' in?  I MEANT, with Peepers lettin' him in.

'Cause it's not like he broke in by pickin' the lock or smashin' down the door or anythin' like that.  That ol' chippy had an open invitation of sorts.  Not from me, of course, 'cause I'm not that stupid.  The open invitation was from the peep.  'Cause when a peep leaves a door open and there's a chippy runnin' about, ODDS ARE said chippy is gonna get in the house.

Which it did.

MOUSES!

So anyway....

So anyway, last I saw of that ol' chippy was him runnin' up the stairs.

Runnin'...  Jumpin'...  Leapin'...  Whatever.

MOUSES!

Then the next thing I knew, Peepers was shouting 'bout his bein' back downstairs.

MOUSES!

And then Peepers had the most brilliant idea.

I know, I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin' that my peep doesn't usually have brilliant ideas.  And you know somethin', my friends?

You would be right.

MOUSES!

But every now and then, she just might.

We'll call it an anomaly of sorts.

Hey, even a broken clock can tell the right time twice a day.

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, Peepers thought that if she were to leave the sunroom door open, the smell of the fresh air might entice the chippy to go in there.  Then she could close the door from the kitchen to the sunroom, and eventually - all claws crossed - the chippy might wander back outside.

Well!

Well things didn't go quite as planned.

MOUSES!

Sure enough, the chippy did eventually go into the sunroom.  And Peepers did close the kitchen door behind him.  But the thing was, that ol' chippy musta kinda liked the sunroom 'cause it looked like he was gonna hunker down and camp out in there.

All day.

All. Day. Long.

'Cept for the time when Peepers thought he had gone outside but hadn't, so when she opened the kitchen door, he got back in there for a bit, before she was able to herd him back into the sunroom again.

MOUSES!

But many hours later...

Many hours later, like about five or maybe six, the chippy was seen ACTUALLY leavin' the house.

Goodness knows how many other critters might have been in and out durin' that time but yes, said chippy DID get out.

And so far he hasn't returned!

I don't think.

MOUSES!

Now one might think the peep might have learned a lesson from all this chipmunk stuff.  Right?  Right.

WRONG!

Why just this mornin', I saw Peepers out on the veranda with birdies flittin' about, and the door behind her standin' ajar.

Woman never learned a darn thing, I'm afraid.

Luckily for Peepers, Saffy was at the door, standin' guard.

Well, droolin' really.  You know, droolin' at the thought of a nice little snack flyin' in.  Luckily for them, none of 'em did.

This time.

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.

NO!

No.  No, Peepers, NO.

I said, NO!

Peepers, I already told you no, and I meant it.  We are not adoptin' that...  That....  Him.  We are not adoptin' HIM.  NO!

Because...  Because he's a squirrel?  Well, chipmunk, I mean.  Clearly, that's no squirrel.

MOUSES!

Peepers, you have any idea how much ribbin' I'd get from the neighbourhood cats if I were to have a chipmunk brother?  Any idea?  ANY?

Didn't think you did.  I'd tell you how much ribbin' I'd get if I had a few hundred years on my paws in which to do it.  Yup, it would take that long, ol' peep of mine.  THAT'S how much ribbin' there'd be.

MOUSES!

I DON'T CARE if the little guy is cute.  HE'S A CHIPMUNK!  A rodent, in other words.

MOUSES!

Well don't complain to me.  YOU'RE the one who started leavin' pawfuls of peanuts and sunflower seeds here and there and practically everywhere.  YOU'RE the one who left that food in that there flower bed after seein' little ol' chippy and thinkin' he might be hungry.  YOU'RE the one who has encouraged that rodent to stick around.

And let me tell you somethin', Peepers: where there's one...

That's right, I bet that guy has a family.

And now they're all gonna be wantin' peanuts and sunflower seeds, too!

AND NO, WE'RE NOT ADOPTIN' THEM, EITHER.

MOUSES!

Peepers, it's like this:  Uh...

Um...

Hmmm...

Okay, it's like this: you feed 'em, they're yours, BUT...

BUT THAT DOESN'T MAKE 'EM FAMILY, OR MEAN THEY CAN MOVE INTO MY HOUSE.  Like I said, I'm not introducin' Chip the Chipmunk as my long lost brother, or my brother from another mother, or my...

I'M NOT INTRODUCIN' THAT RODENT TO ANYONE!

'Cause it's embarrassin', that's why.  Do you know what other cats would say?  DO you?

Well I'll tell you what they'd say.  They'd say, your peep adopted your dinner?  Or, your supper became your brother?  Or...

Well, you know...  That sorta thing.

And then they'd all laugh.

At me.

MOUSES!

It's one thing if they're laughin' at you, Peepers, but havin' my pals laugh at ME?

Cats don't like bein' laughed at, you see.

MOUSES!

I'm puttin' my paw down...  NO, I'm puttin' ALL FOUR of my paws down, and stipulatin' that there will be no adoptin' of rodents by my family.  AND I DON'T CARE IF THEY'RE CUTE RODENTS.  Rodents are rodents and that's that.

Look Peepers, that there chipmunk is just one step up from a mouse, and...

What's that look in your eye?  What's that glimmer?  What's that...

NO, YOU'RE NOT ADOPTIN' ANY MICE, EITHER.

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.

Zzzz...

 

CLEAR THE DECK!

We've got a mournin' dove cleared for a landin'.

MOUSES!

I swear, it's like JFK and Grand Central Station out there, all rolled into one.

MOUSES!

So I was lookin' out the livin' room window earlier, wantin' to see if my sister-to-be, Saffron, was anywhere to be found, when what did my little eyes see?

Well, not Saffron, I'm afraid.  Oh, she had been there earlier, for sure.  Plates with the fanciest of the feasts had been licked clean, although much of the dry kibble was untouched.

Peepers adds a few temptin' treats to the bowl with the kibble, you see, and Saffron, bein' a very smart girl...

OF COURSE she's smart.  After all, she's gonna be MY sister.  MOUSES!

...eats the treats and leaves the kibble behind.

MOUSES!

But anyway, even though Saffron wasn't about, the veranda was still filled with activity.  And when I say, filled, I mean, FILLED.  It's like a MADHOUSE out there, to be sure.

We've got mourin' doves and some kinda black birds who like to eat off the ground.  Peepers doesn't actually put bird seed on the ground for 'em, but the blue jays knock seed from the feeders down, and the ground eaters eat it right up.  Then there are finches of some sort and tonnes of chickadees about.  Oh, and every now and then, a woodpecker.  Believe it or not, I've even seen crows.

And those are just the birdies.  Or the flyin' maraudin' critters, as I say.

On the ground we have squirrels.  Big black ones and grey ones, as well as the little red guys, all runnin' about.  There are chippies out there, too.  And every now and then, a mouse.

Okay, so I haven't personally seen any mice runnin' about, but...

But the other day, Peepers was out there sweepin' up sunflower seed shells and found a dead mouse.  It was sad and we held quite an elaborate funeral, and...

Okay, so actually, Peepers just wrapped the little guy up in a paper towel and gently placed him under a big tree, out in the woods.

WE THINK the mouse was left by Saffron.  Not sure if she caught it before decidin' she'd rather eat the yummy fuds Peepers puts out for her, or...

Or if it was a gift.

For Peepers.

MOUSES!

Quite literally, too.  You know, since the gift was a mouse.

MOUSES!

But anyway, with all the ground and air activity goin' on out there, there's never a dull moment for a kitty like me, EVEN IF I DON'T wanna actually go outside.  No sirree.  I can just hang out in the big livin' room chair and watch bird and squirrel TV for hours on end.

Until I get tired.

Until I get sleepy.

Until I get...

*yawns*

Zzzzzzzz.............

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.

fact

Chipmunks are said to be cheeky 'cause they have fat cheeks.

FACT.

MOUSES!

Mousies are called mousies 'cause uh...

Um...

Well...

Well it doesn't really matter why we call 'em mousies, does it?  I don't even call 'em mousies, myself.  I, Seville the Cat, am more inclined to call 'em mice.  But to each his own, I suppose.  To each his own, and uh...

Um...

Well...

WELL...

Well FACT.

Okay, so that's technically not a fact, but let's get back to those cheeky chipmunks with their cheeks stuffed to the brim with whatever they've got in them there cheeks.

MOUSES!

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

Oh, REALLY?  Well I think you'll find you're mistaken there, my peep.  I think you'll find you're mistaken, for sure, 'cause I have it on good authority that chipmunks ARE cheeky, and they're called cheeky on account of their fat cheeks.

On whose authority, you ask?

Well uh...

Um...

Well...

Well that would be mine.

FACT.

The thing is - and I do believe my pals out there will find this super-duper interestin' - chipmunks are indeed, cheeky.  They're cheeky on account of their searchin' about the yard lookin' for stuff to stuff in their cheeks.  That's how their cheeks get so fat, you see.

Why just the other day, I heard tell of a horde of cheeky chippies...

Stop interrupting me, Peepers!  STOP INTERRUPTIN'!  I'm not talking 'bout British fish 'n chip shops, woman.

Boy-oh-boy, sometimes I really do have to wonder 'bout my peep.

So anyway...

So anyway, as I was sayin' before bein' so rudely interrupted by the peep:  the other day I heard tell of a horde of cheeky chippies collectin' all the sunflower seeds a neighbour had planted, and stuffing 'em in their cheeks.

See?

CHEEKY.

FACT.

And the day before that, I happened to see a cheeky chippy myself.  Yup, I saw him right out there in my very own yard.  And he had the fattest chippy cheeks I ever did see; meanin' those cheeks were definitely stuffed to the brim with somethin' he most likely cheekily stole or misappropriated or just happened to find quite by accident, or...

But it doesn't really matter where he found the stuff to stuff in his cheeks, or what said stuff was, either.  What matters is that he stuffed so much stuff in those cheeks of his, he was...

Well...

CHEEKY.

And that there is one more fact.

MOUSES!

And...

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

What do you mean, what's MY excuse for bein' cheeky?  What do you MEAN?

Oh for mousin' sakes, woman.  I, Seville the Cat, am anythin' BUT cheeky.

I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU'VE HEARD.

Rumours, Peepers.  NOTHIN' BUT RUMOURS!

What, you still don't believe me?  Well get your tail on over here then, Peepers.  Get that tail of yours over here right now.  Look.  See?  "AHHHH"  See anythin' stuffed in my cheeks?  See anythin' at all?  No, of course you don't, 'cause I, Seville the Cat, am not cheeky.

I'm not a chippy, either.

I'm...

Well...

Well it doesn't really matter what I am, now, does it?  I...  I... I I I... I...  I'm a cat!

And that, too, is FACT.

MOUSES!

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

And remember:

IF IN DOUBT,

DON'T. GO. OUT.

Continue to practice SOCIAL DISTANCIN' measures

AND KEEP WASHIN' YOUR PAWS.

MOUSES!

for the love of mouses

Oh for the love of mouses.

No, seriously. SERIOUSLY.  It's not just an expression you know. My brother Rushton sure does love his mouses.

MOUSES!

As you may or may not have guessed, Rushy caught himself a mouse this mornin'.

The peep, bein' a peep, was not amused.

On the other paw, Andy was.

That's right, Andy was right in there, stickin' his nose where his nose didn't belong, tryin' to see what Rushy had caught.  And then, with great amusement, those two long-haired marmie freak brothers of mine, just sat there, lookin' at the wee mouse lyin' on the ground.

Of course, Peep #1 was right in there too, checkin' out what Rushy had caught; but as I said earlier, SHE was not amused.

MOUSES!

The other day, Tess caught a chippy.

Actually, she caught two.

Or maybe it was the same one, caught twice.  As chippies don't go around wearin' name tags, we'll really never know.  MOUSES!

Remember?  Remember way back when, when Nissy used to do that?

Catch chippies, I mean.  Nissy never wore a name tag and if he did, he didn't tell me, so I can't report about that.

Anyway...

So anyway, the other day, Tess came trottin' down the driveway with a chippy danglin' from her mouth. Well Peep #1 spotted her immediately, and was up and outside within minutes, encouraging Tess to let the chippy go.

And when I say encouragin', I REALLY mean that the peep beeped the car horn, which made Tess leap at least a foot into the air as she was walkin' right past the car at the time of the beepin' horn.  Once back on the ground, she spun 'round to face that ol' car, lifted a paw and shook it.  "YOU CRAZY DRIVER!" she yelled.  And that, my friends, was about when the chippy fell out of Tess' mouth, before scamperin' away.

Of course, the peep wasn't even in the car at the time, and the car wasn't even movin', so therefore, technically, there was no driver to yell at.   Realizin' this, Tess yelled again.  "CRAZY NON-EXISTENT DRIVER!" she cried, but by then, the chippy had managed his escape.

The peep, bein' a peep, tried to stifle a laugh but Tess spotted her smirkin', which caused her to stomp down the rest of the driveway, growlin' all the way.

Tess, I mean.  Not the peep.  MOUSES!

Then about half an hour later, it happened all over again.

And believe-you-me, the second time the peep beeped the car horn at Tess, Tess was wild with fury.  "YOU STUPID PEEP, BEEPING YOUR BEEPING HORN AT ME WHEN YOU'RE NOT EVEN IN THE BEEPIN' CAR!" she yelled.  "LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE.  YOU'VE MADE ME LOSE MY CHIPPY!  AGAIN!"

Talk about road rage.

I never even knew one could even have road rage on a driveway.  You know, without bein' on a road.

This, my friends, is one of the reasons Tess can't get her driver's licence.

That and the fact she can't reach the gas pedal and see out the window at the same time, on account of her bein'...  You know...  A cat.  MOUSES!

Of course, Tess is known for bein' enraged.  Why once, just the other day in fact, she was caught growlin' at herself.

No, seriously.  SERIOUSLY.  She really, really was.  She was the only one in the room at the time, and she was growlin' like no other kitty growls, so I'm figurin', Tess was growlin' at none other than..  Well...  Tess.

Some peeps talk to themselves, so I suppose it's reasonable to assume a cat might growl to herself.

Especially if the cat in question happens to be Tess.

Tess does enjoy growlin'.

And she does it really well.

MOUSES!

they always run

Yup, they always run.  Always.  MOUSES!

You ever notice how on television and movies, in crime dramas and stuff, when the police go to approach a suspect, the suspect always runs?  They do.  It's true! I've seen it with my very own eyes. MOUSES!

Doesn't matter if the show is filmed in America or Britain or right here in Canada, they always run.  Doesn't matter if the show takes place in the present or in the future or if it's an historical piece, they run. Doesn't matter if the suspect is indoors or outside, he's gonna run.  Doesn't matter if the suspect looks like he hasn't run anywhere in a very long time, like thirty or forty years kind of long time, he's still gonna run.  Might be huffing and puffing a lot, but run he will, nonetheless.  Doesn't even matter if he's a she and wearing high-heeled shoes, you can rest assured, there will be running involved.

Sometimes the suspect runs down a back alley, only to be caught at the other end by the officer's partner.  Sometimes the suspect runs across a parking lot or something and straight into a fence, only to be caught as he attempts to climb said fence, which you just knew was gonna slow him down, for sure.  Quite often, it appears, the suspect runs through a hotel restaurant's kitchen, only to be caught when exiting the back door which, for some strange reason, the suspect always knows exists even if he has never been in that particular kitchen before.

Judging by what I've seen on television, this running of the suspects through restaurant kitchens is a very common occurrence, indeed, although oddly enough, it has never happened on any cooking shows on the Food Network and stuff.  At least not to my knowledge it hasn't.  MOUSES!

Quite often the suspect takes the time to shove something in the path of the police officers chasing him like a conveniently placed table or whatever that just happens to be sitting there in the middle of nowhere.  Of course, these obstacles do slow the police down but setting up the obstacle course in the first place slows the suspects down, too.

Once, I saw one of these suspects run into a room with no exit other than the door through which he ran to enter the room.  Yeah, that didn't work out too well for that suspect at all.  MOUSES!

Doesn't matter if it's a comedy or something serious or a little of both, running will still be involved.

There was this one show, when the suspect tried to run away while on an airplane, flying in the air. Now I ask you, my friends, exactly to where did she think she was gonna run?

I've seen 'em try this technique while on submarines underwater, too.  MOUSES!

Or they run into a bathroom and lock themselves in. More often than not, there are only two ways out of a bathroom, my friends.  The door through which you entered and by the flush of a toilet.  One is decidedly preferable to the other, however you will be caught while exiting.

Of course, some bathrooms do have a window but unless you're on the ground floor, that window is an exit one should definitely not take.

Or they run to the end of a pier and, seeing no other route of escape, they jump off the pier and into the water. Then they're caught when the police have to jump in after 'em to rescue them because they forgot about their not knowing how to swim.  Yup, happens more often that you would think.  MOUSES!

And then there are the suspects who try to outrun the police in the police cars.  Yeah, like they can run faster than a car can be driven.  Need I say it again?  Of course I do.  MOUSES!

Now this epidemic of running has become so bad and so widespread that when peeps see it happening they sigh, "Yup, they always run."

Even the characters in these shows are joking about it now.  The police spot the suspect off in the distance.  The suspect realizes he has been spotted and momentarily freezes.  Then one of the officers says something like, "Oh, he's not gonna run, is he?" or "Don't you run now," and that would be the cue for the running to begin.  MOUSES!

But all this brings me to my intended subject at paw.  Mice.  MOUSES!

Yeah, like suspects being chased by the police, mice will run from a cat, lickety-split.  They will also run from a peep, to be sure.

We don't get many mice in our house as we cats have kinda moused the whole place out but every now and then, one is caught and brought in and when that happens, we bring 'em in alive.  Then we let 'em loose and then the running begins.

Those mice take one look at Peep #1 and start running for the hills but as we have no hills inside our house - we live in a valley, you see - they end up running under furniture and into bathrooms and stuff.  Yup, just like those suspects on TV.

Of course, a mouse has the advantage of being smaller than a peep for which peeps can be grateful, for sure, for if they were the size of mice, interactive play between cats and their peeps might take a turn for the worse for those peeps, if you know what I mean.  MOUSES!

But that thought aside, a mouse is small, smaller than a peep, and therefore can run right under a peep's feet or at least between their legs and exit on the other side.  Thus, the exit through which they entered thing not working does not apply to mice. MOUSES!

You know, now that I think about it...

Now that I think about it, whenever one of us cats brings a mouse or squirrel or chippy into the house, we lose interest in said creature rather quickly.  It's far more fun to watch the antics of a peep trying to catch the mouse or squirrel or chippy than to do the chasing, ourselves.

So really, it's a whole lot like watching all those crime shows on TV.  MOUSES!

on their toes

Let me tell you, when it comes to peeps, you've gotta keep 'em on their toes.  MOUSES!

So the other day...  Well actually it was only yesterday, I decided to do just that.  Keep my peeps on their toes, I mean.  In particular, Peep #1. She's been slacking, lately, and I figured something needed to be done about that. MOUSES!

So I enlisted the aid of my fur-sibs and together, we formulated a plan.  A plan involving an entire day of doing what needed to be done to get Peep #1 hopping.

First of all, we hired some rabbits.  JUST KIDDING!  Actually, they were hares.  Hopping hares.

Oops!  Wrong hare.  Wrong kind of hare.  They were hairs.  Well, hair.  And we didn't exactly hire them.  Or rather, it.  No, we didn't hire the peep's hair.  And the peeps hair didn't hop, either.  Too bad though because hopping hair would be quite the sight to see, for sure.

What's that, Peepers?  Okay, FINE.  Yesterday's festivities did not actually involve the peep's hair. I got a little carried away there, with the hopping and the rabbits and the hares and then, of course, the hair.  Truth be told, there was no hair involved.  MOUSES!

But there was hopping...

The day began with my wandering into the back yard only to find Tess and Mason camped out under the big old oak tree back there.  Of course, I assumed they were waiting for The Crow Show to begin.  Assumed they had scored some good seating for the matinee performance and were staking their claim to those seats until it began.

At least, that's what I thought when I first saw them.  Then I realized that the seats they had weren't the best seats at all.  Oh no.  Mason and Tess were, in fact, in the drop zone.  Some of the worst seats around.

In case you're wondering what the drop zone is, let me explain.  The cast of The Crow Show is comprised of crows.  The big old oak tree is the stage.  Those actors, who are crows, spend a lot of time on that stage and almost never go backstage to uh...  you know... do their business.  Nope, they do it right there on the stage.  Therefore, the area directly beneath the stage is - you guessed it - the drop zone.  The worst seats in the house.  MOUSES!

Anyway, once I realized where Mason and Tess were sitting, I knew there was no way, no how, that they had staked claim to those particular seats.  I knew they must be up to something else. Something naughty, most likely.  You know sisters, right?  Right.  So, of course, I went and got the peep.

How fortuitous that two of my sisters were up to no good the very day I had enlisted their help to stir up some trouble in order to keep the peep on her toes. How very fortuitous, indeed!

Returning with the peep, I pointed with a paw to my sisters and then stepped back to watch what would happen next.  In case you didn't realize it, although The Crow Show is the longest running Off Broadway show, EVER, with the possible exception of Agatha Christie's The Mousetrap and the probable exception of Where'd That Mouse Go? - author unknown but happening near a mouse hole near you, it's not nearly as good of a show as watching fur-sibs getting in trouble.  MOUSES!

It didn't take long for Peep #1 to figure out what was going on.  Tess and Mason had chased a poor little chippie up the tree.

Of course, Peep #1 was all excited to see the chippie in the first place.  Since the arrival of the gargantuan-sized grey squirrels, the little red squirrels and the chipmunks have been avoiding my yard like mice avoid a house filled with cats.  In fact, I don't even remember the last time I saw a red squirrel and as for chippies, the only ones I've seen in the last few years are the ones Nissy used to bring home for supper.

And when I say Nissy used to bring them home for supper, I mean that quite literally.  Remember? He used to bring them home, right into the house, where he let them loose, hoping the peep would serve them supper and usually, she did.  She gave them walnuts and hazelnuts and all sorts of yummy things before catching them and showing them the door.  Outside, they only have access to plain old acorns, you see.

Anyway, back to the chippy at paw.  So there was this poor little chippy stuck up in the tree.  Not too high up.  He was too scared to move, I do believe.

No sooner did Peep #1 realize what was happening but she was off rescuing the chippy.  Is it a bird?  Is it a plane?  No, it's SUPERPEEP!  Peep #1 picked up the little chippie and carried him over to the apple tree where he could rest comfortably in the nook of two branches before scampering off home, wherever that may have been.

And speaking of scampering....

Yesterday afternoon, Peep #1 decided to tackle the next portion of that stupid hedge she is trying to get rid of and while she was hacking away at it, I happened to notice my sister, Tess, scampering down the driveway.  Or is that up?  Hmmm..  Doesn't matter, she was scampering toward the road so I let the peep know in no uncertain terms that Tess was up to no good.

Peep called Tess back, once, and was ignored.  Called her a second time and was ignored again. After the third time, Peep #1 put down her bush whackers and saw and snippery things and headed on down the driveway, herself.

She followed Tess down the road as Tess was trotting to the neighbours' house, next door.  Tess walked along the road, up the neighbours' driveway and into their yard.  Peep followed and just before Tess was about to step onto their lawn, the peep swooped in and snatched her up, before carrying her home.  Tess, of course, complained miserably the entire time.

Peep #1 set Tess down in our yard but five minutes later, she was scampering off down the driveway, again.  MOUSES!

Ignoring the peep's pleas to come home, Tess trotted down the road to the neighbours' house again. Once more Peep #1 had to follow suit.  Now if you heard a whole bunch of grumpy growls and meowls yesterday afternoon, that would have been Tess.   I'm pretty sure all the neighbours heard. All the neighbours for miles and miles!  Yup, Tess sure does have a voice on her when she's annoyed and yesterday, annoyed with the peep, she most certainly was.  MOUSES!

After the second incident, Peep #1 put Tess inside the house where she remained for the night.

But my keeping the peep hopping plan was not done for the day.

Dr. Who was on last night and Peep #1 decided to do some knitting while watching it.  She hasn't been doing much knitting at all.  In fact, I don't think she has knitted a single stitch all summer long.

Didn't get to do much last night, either, for a number of us cats decided to take great interest in the peep's knitting until she could knit no more.

And in keeping with the theme of Dr. Who and time travel and stuff, believe it or not, the peep had less knitting done after she stopped then before she had begun.  How does that happen, you ask?

Let me just say that after a few swipes with a paw or two or three, some cries of frustration, a mistake made by the peep but unfairly blamed on a certain completely innocent marmalade cat who happens to have a blog and a few more paw swipes later, what the peep had already started, had to be completely undone.  And then, as soon as she had started up anew, she gave up, just like that.  Fickle.  Yup, I have one super fickle peep, for sure.

Super fickle peep.  Hmmm...  Super fickle peep.  Try saying that ten times in a row.  MOUSES!

Anyway, that's how my fur-sibs and I kept the peep a-hopping yesterday.  To tell you the truth, it was a lot of work.  More work than it was worth, I should think.  Next time, I'm going to hire those aforementioned bunnies or hares or whaever.  MOUSES!

a MOUSES! moment, for sure

Hey Peepers!  Come see this.  Just look at that.  Yeah...  THAT.  You had thirteen whole hits on your blog yesterday.  That's more than you had for the entire month of May. Congratulations are in order, I should think.  Wanna pass me some nip?

What do you mean my sarcasm isn't appreciated?  I'm just statin' the facts. Those thirteen hits, yesterday, are more than you had for the entire month of May.   Whatcha doin' that's so different?  How are you uppin' your game?  Perhaps you could give me a pointer or two?

Oh, I see...  You actually wrote a post.  Mouses Peepers!  Didn't anyone ever tell you that the most important part of bloggin' is writing?  You should be writin' posts all the time.

So before yesterday, when was the last time you posted?  July, you say.  Nah, that's not possible. July hasn't arrived yet.  July is next month.  Stop foolin' around.  When was the last last time you posted?  You mean you haven't posted since July of last year?  2013?  BUT THAT WAS ALMOST A WHOLE YEAR AGO!  It was like, eleven months.  MOUSES!

Yes, this was my part of the conversation I had with the peep this mornin'.  It was a MOUSES! moment, for sure.

For those of you who haven't heard (and apparently, there are a whole lot of you), Ol' Peepers here has a blog.  She calls it "The Peep's Cheeps" although she clearly has not been doin' very much cheepin'.

Peep #1 claims that there are reasons for her lack of cheepin' and I have to agree.  I have to agree that there are reasons.  I don't necessarily agree with what those reasons are.

What's that Peepers?  You say that you spend so much time helpin' me with my blog that you don't have time to work on your own?

NONSENSE.  I write all my own stuff.  I don't require your help to write my posts.  What are gettin' at here?

On the other paw, I do need a little help.  Just a teeny-tiny bit.  I do need the peep to turn the computer on for me in the mornin' but once that's done, she's free to do as she likes.  I don't need her watchin' over my shoulder, remindin' me not to start sentences with and or but or whatever.  Not that I've ever been known to take her advice on such matters, anyway.  But the constant nattering 'bout such things tends to be a little annoying after the first hour or so, if you know what I mean.

My gosh, I just had a thought.  If Ol' Peepers were to do as much writing as she does nattering, she'd have posts comin' out of her ears!   And far better that than her natterin' in mine.

What's that Peepers?  Yes I know I just started a sentence with an and and let me tell you...  IT WAS INTENTIONAL.

See what I mean?  Nattering.

Okay, so now she's changing her story. Now the peep claims that with all the blogging I do, I'm tyin' up the computer.

Nope.  Just checked.  The computer cord is lying right there.  No knots or anythin'.  Nothin' tied up at all.

FINE.  Yes, I know you actually meant that I was usin' the computer and when I'm usin' it, you can't. Well...  Well these things can't be helped.  I have posts to write and writing to post and when I'm not doin' that, I have pals to visit on Twitter and Facebook and the like.

And speakin' of Facebook.  Did you hear?  Passed twenty-five hundred likes on my fan page yesterday.  NICE.

Anywho...  If you need more computer time, why not do it while I'm nappin'?  I nap multiple times a day, every day.  Plenty of time for you to do some writing while I'm nappin', Peepers.

Now the Peep is complaining that on the rare occasion when she does get to use the computer, she has been workin' on her book so she can't work on her blog.

That's ridiculous.  Firstly, I take exception to the phrase, rare occasion.  Like I said, I nap daily.  My nappin' schedule has nothin' to do with rarity.  Secondly, I take exception to the word book as Ol' Peepers' foray into the writing of books has not yet produced a single book-like object or anything resembling what could be placed upon a bookshelf.

I, on the other paw, have written an entire chapter that will be in a real, live - okay, it's not actually alive - book later this year.  You all know 'bout that?  Yup, my rescue story will be appearin' in Rescue Me:  The Stories of 12 Cats, Through Their Eyes, bein' published by FitCat Publishing. VERY NICE.

Let me tell you, Peepers.  The thing is that I, Nerissa the Cat, am the writer in this family.  I'm the one with the blog that is regularly updated.  I post twice a week, every week.  Apparently, you're lucky if you post twice a year.  MOUSES!

What?  What are you goin' on about now, Peepers?  So now you're claiming that you don't have time to work on your blog 'cause any time you do get with the computer, you're using to write your book and even that time is bein' interrupted by my recent forays down to the end of the driveway.  You're sayin' that my visitin' the end of the driveway is upsettin' you 'cause it's so close to the road and that the road is dangerous and seeing me there makes you feel the need to get up and leave the computer to come rescue me.

But Peepers, that's where the chipmunks live.  You know those two chippies I brought home the other day?  Remember how I blogged about them on Wednesday?  Well, the chippy colony has set up camp in that big ol' oak tree at the end of the driveway and I'd be ever-so-remiss if I were to ignore their invitations to visit.  How else am I gonna bring any of 'em home?

Besides, I don't actually go onto the road.  I just hang out by the oak tree and I can always duck behind said tree if I see someone with a big dog, or somethin', coming.  It's a big tree.  Lots of space behind it for hiding.

Let me tell you.  If it's not one thing, it's another.  The peep is just full of excuses 'bout her lack of bloggin' but you and I know the truth.  The TRUTH is that Ol' Peepers' lack of bloggin' is due to a lack of bloggin' skills.  She's just not up to it.

Hmmm...  Perhaps I should write a few posts for the peep.  You know, to help her out a bit.  She certainly is in need of the help.  Yes, that's an idea.  I could write a post here and there.  Make sure she posts at least quarterly.  Maybe even monthly.

A post a year...  MOUSES!  Never heard anything like it.  And she calls herself a writer.  TRIES to call herself a writer, is more like it.  Once more I must say, MOUSES! 'cause you know...  it's a MOUSES! moment, for sure.

a mouse in the house!

BREAKING NEWS...   We interrupt our previously scheduled blog post to bring you this late-breaking news.

THERE'S A MOUSE IN THE HOUSE!

Uh actually...  no.  It was a chipmunk. MOUSES!

Sit back, put your paws up and let me tell you what happened, at my house, yesterday afternoon.

Glancing over into the family room as I entered the house through the little kitchen window the peeps so thoughtfully leave open for us cats in the summer, I saw my two peeps enjoyin' some tea while watchin' somethin' on the news.  I'm assuming it was tea.  Perhaps nip tea but I don't know for sure. But probably not.  Probably just the plain ol' regular stuff.  They like it with milk.  I personally like the milk but will pass on the tea.

Anywho...  I know that Peep #1 saw me comin' inside as I heard her sigh loudly sayin', "Oh no..."  I smiled to myself.  YES!  She must see what I am carryin' in my mouth.

I suppose I shouldn't have smiled 'cause that was what likely caused Mr. Chippy to fall from my mouth, onto the floor.  Next thing I knew, Mr. Chippy was racin' into the family room to tell the peeps on me.

"Too late!" I cried to Mr. Chippy.  "Peeps already know 'bout you.  First peep saw me bringing you inside."

Apparently however, Ol' Peepers did NOT know 'bout how Mr. Chippy was still alive.  That would be about the time when all you-know-what broke loose.  You-know-what brought to you by the letters 'h' and 'e' along with a couple of hockey sticks.

The first peep was up like a flash and barkin' instructions to Peep #2.  "I need the bathroom waste paper basket...  EMPTY!" she hollared as she raced into the kitchen to grab a couple of paper towels.  Back she came into the family room, paper towels in paw.  I stood guard at the family room entrance way, makin' sure Mr. Chippy didn't get out.

Mr. Chippy was EVERYWHERE.  Did you know that chipmunks can climb walls?  Apparently, they can.  They can jump pretty high, too.  I watched as Mr. Chippy climbed up onto the big chair, ran across the windowsills, ran over the couch, investigated the whole area around the fireplace, inspected the plants around said fireplace, checked out my kitty condo next to the television and then repeated this entire routine at least one more time.  I watched as the peep hopelessly tried to catch Mr. Chippy but quite frankly, she is just not as quick on her feet as I on my paws.

Twice, I thought she almost had him.  While over by the fireplace, Peep #1 had Mr. Chippy cornered. I thought she was gonna get him for sure but he jumped up onto her arm, ran up it and over her shoulder and then leapt onto the chesterfield, causin' the peep to spin 'round madly like a spinnin' top that was out of control.

Over by the kitty condo, he was runnin' along the windowsill and this time, I figured the peep would get him for sure. The windowsill isn't all that long and the peep can easily reach from one end to the other so really, how could she not catch him?  Fact is, chippies are quick. Too quick for peeps.  Mr. Chippy again jumped onto the peep's arm and used it like a divin' board before soarin' across the room to freedom.  MOUSES!

At this point, Peep #1 was thinkin' that the second peep was takin' an awfully long time gettin' that waste paper basket so she went to do it herself but at that moment, Peep #2 was in fact returnin' with said basket.  Peep #1 snatched the basket from the second peep's paw.

I continued to stand guard by the family room entrance but I must have looked away for just a moment 'cause when Peep #1 returned, Mr. Chippy was nowhere in sight.

Peep #1 looked high and low for Mr. Chippy but to no avail.  She even asked me if I could find him so I motioned to her to look over by the bathroom.  That's when she saw my seventeen-year-old Auntie Primrose standin' by the bathroom door, gettin' ready to pounce.  MOUSES!

The first peep was there in a flash.  She shooed Auntie Primrose away from the door and closed it behind her.  Surely in such tight quarters, the peep would be able to catch that ol' chippy chipmunk. I had my paws crossed for the peep but to tell you the truth, it could have gone either way.  Peeps just aren't that great at catchin' chippies, you know?

I did not witness the actual goings on in the bathroom however, I am told that durin' the ten minutes or so in which the peep was in there with the chipmunk, Mr. Chippy ran across our litter box numerous times, ran around the toilet, attempted to hide in the radiator thingies that heat the room and caused the peep to once again, spin madly 'round like a spinnin' top out of control.

After waitin' for what seemed like an eternity, I watched as Peep #1 finally emerged from the bathroom.  She was victorious.  Inside the waste paper basket was the chipmunk.

You know, I'll NEVER understand peeps.  After puttin' in all that effort to catch Mr. Chippy in the first place, Peep #1 then took him outside - still in the basket - and let him go.  MOUSES!  She says she heard him squeak out a cry of gratitude as he ran from the basket and up a tree but really, I'm thinkin' it was more likely to have been a cry of relief after experiencin' the craziness of my peeps.

Anywho...  About an hour later, the peep was sittin' in MY office, borrowin' MY computer when she looked up and saw me headin' up the driveway with a chipmunk hangin' from my mouth.  Can we all say, Groundhog Day?  MOUSES!

I was intercepted outside, never gettin' the chance to bring Mr. Chippy II indoors.  I took him over to the ladybug hedge and sat down with him.  I wanted to explain how I would bring him inside as soon as the peeps weren't watchin' and then introduce him to the family.  Seville and Mason arrived on the scene and I began to make introductions but then...

Then the next thing I knew it was rainin' although the rain was extremely localised and it was highly likely that said rain had somethin' to do with the garden hose bein' held in Peep #1's paws.  Mr. Chippy took that very moment to make his exit and before I knew it he was climbin' up a maple tree to freedom.

Word on the street is that all the chippies have been talkin' about the craziness of my peeps.  How they'll catch you in a waste paper basket only to let you go later on and then make it rain on you, causin' your tail to get wet along with the tails belongin' to certain kitties such as myself.

Those chippies are also sayin' that my peeps are super rude on account that I had invited Mr. Chippy over for dinner but Mr. Chippy was never even served a snack, never mind a meal and what's more, he was never truly welcomed by the peeps.  Clearly, I've got a couple of pretty rude peeps on my paws.  Crazy, I knew about.  The rudeness aspect however, was news to me.  In fact, it was BREAKING NEWS, if you know what I mean.  MOUSES!