let's talk

Sweaters.  Let's talk sweaters, my friends.  Let's. Talk. Sweaters.

MOUSES!

There are all sorts of sweaters out there, I think.  Pink sweaters, blue sweaters, purple sweaters, cream... 

Cream...

Nothin' beats a good spot of cream.  Mmmm.

But I digress.

MOUSES!

Point is, there are all sorts of colours when it comes to sweaters.

And there are sweaters of all different weights, too.  There are heavy sweaters for cold weather, light sweaters for warm, and a whole whack of different weights of sweaters, for in between.

And then there are sizes.  There are big sweaters.  Like really big sweaters.  Like the kinda sweaters that are meant to be all baggy and whatnot.  Boyfriend sweaters, is what they're sometimes called.  And boy-oh-boy are boyfriend sweaters ever big.

My gosh, a kitty could get lost in one of those.

MOUSES!

And there are not-so-big sweaters, too.  Little sweaters.  Sweaters with short sleeves.  Sweaters with NO sleeves.  And sweaters with short...  Well...  Well, they're just short.  Cropped is what they sometimes say.

MOUSES!

But here's the thing, my dear friends.  Here. Is. The. Thing.  I, Seville the Cat, am not a sweater-wearin' kinda cat.  Nope, I'm not a sweater wearin' kinda cat, at all.  Not big sweaters or heavy sweaters or light ones or small.  I don't wear 'em in summer, or winter, or even the fall.

MOUSES!

Yes, I do know there are cats out there who like wearin' a sweater or two.  Not at the same time, of course, but they might like to have a few options in their closet, dependin' on the weather or their mood.  But like I said, I, Seville the Cat, am NOT one of those cats.  I am not a sweater wearin' kinda guy.

Oh sure, I like sleepin' ON a sweater.

On.  I said, ON.  If Peepers should be so foolish as to leave a sweater lyin' on a bed or a chair, and I should happen to come across it, lyin' there...

Well let's just say, that sweater is gonna be wearin' my furs.

But I am NOT - I repeat, NOT - gonna be wearin' the sweater.

MOUSES!

So you can imagine my distress when I found Peepers knittin' a sweater that looked kinda...

Well...

Are you sittin' down, my friends?  Are you sittin' down before you fall?

That sweater she was knittin' looked cat sized, to me.

MOUSES!

I was in shock, I tell you.  SHOCK!  I thought to myself, that ol' peep of mine is thinkin' she's gonna put that sweater on me.

AND I WAS HAVIN' NONE OF THAT.

So I volunteered Saffron.

What else would a smart kitty do?

MOUSES!

But as it turned out, it was just one of those shorter, cropped kinda sweaters she was makin', and not meant for a cat, at all.

But it sure did feel like a really close call.

'Cause like I said, I, Seville the Cat, am NOT a sweater-wearin' kinda guy.  Doesn't matter how cold it might be, I prefer to go nekkid.

MOUSES!

And if my paws should happen to get chilly whilst outdoors, I can always come inside and warm 'em up on the peep.  You should hear how she squeals with delight when I do that sorta thing.

Delight...  Pain and hock...  Whatever.

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.

gonna need a new coat

I know, I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin' that I, Seville the Cat, already have a perfectly good - not to mention absolutely gorgeous - fur coat.

And you know somethin', my friends?

YOU WOULD BE RIGHT.

MOUSES!

Why, my orange marmalade furs are the bestest of bestest of coats, for sure.

Everyone says so, so it MUST be true.  Right?  Right.

MOUSES!

But the thing is, I'm not talking 'bout that kinda coat.

MOUSES!

No, I'm talking 'bout the kinda coat you put on OVER your naturally gorgeous marmalade furs.  You know, like peeps do.  When they wear coats.

Okay, so peeps don't actually have a lotta fur or hair all over their bodies over which they put on some kinda coat.

Okay so MOST peeps don't have a lotta fur or hair all over their bodies over which they might put on some kinda coat.  Oh sure, they've got hair on the tops of their heads but all over their arms and their legs?  And their backs?  And...

Well perhaps it's best not to think 'bout peeps who have that much hair.

MOUSES!

But back to the business of my needin' a new coat.

So far the winter here in Nova Scotia has been fairly mild.  We've had some snow.  We've had rain.  We've had a lotta rain, in fact.  But all and all, it hasn't been all that cold.

But accordin' to the weatherpeeps...

Accordin' to the weatherpeeps, THAT'S ALL ABOUT TO CHANGE.  They're sayin' it's gonna be 'bout -28C come Friday night.  Saturday is gonna be super cold, too.  And in case you were wonderin' bout -28C...

-28C IS DARN RIGHT COLD.

Cold as in COLD.

MOUSES!

So like I said, I'm gonna need a new coat.

On the other paw, maybe I'll just enjoy a hot nip toddy and stay indoors.

Thank goodness I can do my business in the litter box, inside.

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.

got milk?

Maybe it's outta gas?

Nope, plenty of that, you say, huh?

So you've got gas, but have nowhere to go.

No, that can't be right, either.  I. Need. Noms.  HEAR THAT, PEEPERS?  You have someplace to go on account of my needin' my noms.  You need to go to the grocery store.

So you've got somewhere to go AND you've got gas, but...

But...

BUT...

But maybe you have no milk!  You've got no milk there, Peepers.  That's gotta be it, for sure.

Wait a minute, why would you need milk to power up...  I mean, if I were lactose intolerant - WHICH I'M NOT - I could imbibe in some nice creamy milk and fart my way to the grocery store, lickety split, but...

But I think what you're actually in need of is juice.

But lack of noms or not, I'M NOT DRINKIN' NO DIRTY JUICE.

MOUSES!

I, Seville the Cat, am a cat, you see - DUH - and cats don't drink juice.  Cats don't even LIKE juice.  Unless it's catnip juice, of course.  I would like catnip juice, for sure.  But why the heck does Peepers need juice to go to the grocery store?

Oh yeah, she needs juice to power up the battery that starts up the car.

MOUSES!

Well that's what happens when you live in a country like Canada, Peepers.  Weather gets cold.  Roads get icy and covered in snow.  Then you don't go out on those roads on account of the ice and the snow, so you don't start up the car.  And did I mention how it was cold?  Well when you don't start up the car for several days in the cold...

Car batteries?  They go dead.

MOUSES!

Honestly, Peepers, you SHOULD have been able to foresee this.

You think maybe the cold killed a few of your brain cells, as well as that there battery, Peepers?  Maybe even MORE than a few?  Peepers, you should be careful 'bout stuff like that, 'cause I'm not sure you've got the extra brain cells to spare, and...

WHY ARE YOU LOOKIN' AT ME LIKE THAT?

Peepers, if you wanna be mad at somebody, try bein' made at that ol' Shubinackedy Sam.  Remember a couple weeks back when he said spring was gonna come early this year?

WELL OBVIOUSLY, HE LIED.

MOUSES!

You know, if you weren't a stupid vegetable, Peepers...

FINE, if you weren't a stupid VEGETARIAN, Peepers, I'd suggest you cook up a big ol' pot of groundhog stew.

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.

is it a bird?

Is it a bird?

IS IT A PLANE?

No, IT'S.....

I know, I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin', it's gonna be Superman.  Am I right or am I right?  I know that was what you were thinkin'.

And do you know somethin', my friends?

If that's what you were thinkin', you would be wrong about that.

MOUSES!

Okay, so I may have possibly misled you. 

Kinda.  Sorta.  Maybe.

Yeah, I might have misled you a bit.  You know, on account of what I'm talkin' about bein' neither bird nor plane like.  Nothin' bird nor plane like at all!

But I DID have a legitimate question at paw.

Just not the question I asked above, is all.

MOUSES!

What I probably should have asked is...

WHAT THE MOUSES IS WRONG WITH THE PEEP NOW?

It's just allergies.

Yup, that's what she said.

Said...  Sniffled...  Snorted...  Whatever.

MOUSES!

There was snifflin', my friends.  There was coughin' and sneezin', too, not to mention the blowin' of the nose.

But you know the peep.

It's just allergies.  The winter air is dry and I must have breathed in a little dust.

Yeah.  Right.

MOUSES!

So it wasn't a bird and it wasn't a plane.

But it wasn't allergies, either.

My friends, the peep has managed to go and catch herself one of her famous full-blown doozies of a cold.  She only gets one every few years.

But when she does...

AH...

AH...

AHCHOO!

Stand back, or one of her sneezes might blow you away.

Literally.

MOUSES!

Gosh darn it, the phone's ringin'.  That'll be the Canadian National Seismograph Network...  AGAIN.  I'm tellin' ya, every time ol' Peepers sneezes, they call.  Every time!  They've called like nine hundred and ninety-nine times already this mornin'!  Apparently her sneezin' is settin' off seismographs ALL OVER THE PLACE.

MOUSES!

oh good, you're awake

Hey Peepers!

HEY PEEPERS!

HEY PEEPERS!

Oh good, you're awake.

I was just checkin'.  Just checkin' to make sure you were still alive.

Well...

Well the thing is, you had stopped sneezin' and wheezin' and coughin' and stuff, so I was beginnin' to wonder.  You know, wonder if you were still alive.

And by the way, I've called the doctor's office.  They'll see you tomorrow at five.

Why MY doctor, of course.

And by the other way, all patients are supposed to be secured on a leash, or a harness, or somethin' like that.  Or stuffed in a crate.  Since I'm pretty sure you won't fit in any of our carriers - and even if you did, there's no way I'd be carryin' you - we'll need to find you a harness to wear.  I know!  How 'bout a ball of yarn or somethin'?  I can wrap it around you several times.

Yeah right, and when was the last time you asked me if I needed to go to the doctor before takin' me there?  HUH?

But you know, maybe what you have isn't a cold at all.  Maybe it's allergies or somethin'.

OH MY MOUSES!  I HOPE YOU'RE NOT ALLERGIC TO ME!!!

And in case you're wonderin', if you are allergic to cats, you had better get used to takin' pills 'cause if it comes down to you or me, well...  Let's just say...  I'M NOT GOIN' ANYWHERE.  MOUSES!

You think cats can be allergic to peeps?

Nothin'.  Just wonderin'.

So you say it's not allergies, huh?  It's just a really bad cold.

And you're sure it's just a cold?  Really sure?  Absolutely positively so?  I'm only asking 'cause you had one just a few months ago, and you know you don't get many...

Okay, I'll take your word for it.

HEY PEEPERS!

Sorry, I couldn't hear you breath.

Or wheeze.

Guess you were fallin' back asleep.

You know Peepers, when they were handin' out the cold bugs, or whatever they are, how come you felt the need to take one?  HUH?

Nothin'.  Just wonderin'.

Yeah, yeah, yeah...  You're sick and you feel icky.

BLAH, BLAH, BLAH...

Complaints, complaints.  All I'm hearin' are complaints!

Did you hear me complainin' when you were sneezin' and wheezin' and coughin' and stuff?  Did you hear me complainin' about havin' to listen to you sneezin' and wheezin' and coughin' and stuff?  HUH?

And did you hear me complain' about your bein' sick and feelin' icky?  Did you hear me complainin' about your complainin'?  You know, complainin' about your havin' the cold?  HUH?

Okay, you might have heard me complainin' about that.

BUT WITH VERY GOOD REASON, FOR SURE.  MOUSES!

The truth is, Peepers, I was worried.

I was!  I was very worried, indeed.

Let me tell you Peepers, when I thought you had died in your sleep - you know, on account of your lack of sneezin' and wheezin' and coughin' and stuff 'cause you were sleepin' - I was super worried, for sure.

I mean...

WHO WOULD FEED ME MY MEALS???

And speakin' of food...

I'm feelin' a little peckish at the mo.  Yup, I'm feelin' a little peckish, for sure, and I could go for a snack right about now.

Well?

WELL?

WELL?

Do I need to spell it out for you, woman?  I'm in need of a snack and the snacks are in the kitchen.

SO YOU WANNA GO GET ME ONE?

That's right, Peepers.  Grab your box of tissues and take 'em with you.  Only thing worse than a sneezin' peep is a peep with nothin' into which to sneeze.

AND PEEPERS...  Could you mix in a few of those freeze-dried salmon flakes for me?  You know how I like 'em so.

AND REMEMBER TO WASH YOUR HANDS BEFORE HANDLIN' MY SNACKS!  Last thing I need is for you to give me your cold.

MOUSES!

Seville saves Christmas

Previously on Nerissa's Life...  Seville patted the reindeer on his back. "It's okay there, little buddy. Mason and I will figure somethin' out. We'll have you flyin' again, in no time."

"Now first things first," continued Seville.  "I need to check on the radioactivity of your reindeer dust.  Make sure it's behavin' like it's supposed to be behavin', you know?  Mason," he called out to his sister. "Go grab my radioactive reindeer tracking compass, would you?  It's in the teleportation device."

"But the teleportation device is parked - if you you want to call what you did, parking - up on the barn roof!" Mason exclaimed.  "I don't want to climb up there any more than is absolutely necessary.  I had my claws manicured for Christmas."

"FINE," and Seville turned on his tail.  "I'll go get it myself.  Be right back."

Moments later, Seville returned to find Mason, Rudolf, and Santa all staring at him in disbelief.

"Why are you all starin' at me?" asked Seville.  "Do I have freeze-dried salmon treat crumbs on my face or somethin'?"

"Well as a matter of fact, you do," Mason answered.  "But that's beside the point.  Seville, when you went to get your compass, you..."

"You..." began Rudolf.

"You sort of..." started Santa.

"You flew!" Mason finished.

"Well I was in a hurry so yeah, I was bein' speedy as speedy can be.  It's not like I flew up there like a reindeer or somethin'," Seville laughed.

Mason padded over to her brother.  Putting a paw on Seville's shoulder she whispered, "Actually, you did.  You flew up onto the roof exactly like a reindeer would do."

"I DID?" Seville cried. Dashing over to one of the barn's frosty windows, he rubbed the glass pane until it shone like the glass of a mirror.  Peering at his reflection he exclaimed, "Oh.  My. Mouses.  My nose is startin' to glow.  I'm... I'm...  I'm...  I'M TURNIN' INTO A REINDEER RIGHT BEFORE MY VERY EYES."

"Well I wouldn't go quite that far," stated Santa, "but your nose is developing a rather healthy glow."

"NO!!!" wailed Seville.  "How am I ever gonna explain this to the peep?  Will my fur-sibs still let me play in any catnip games?  This is a catastrophe of catastrophic proportions!!!"

Mason followed Seville over to the barn window, carrying the radioactive reindeer tracking compass in her paw.  "Seville, the meter is registering radioactivity through the roof, no pun intended.  If you're not careful, it's not just that nose of yours that will be glowing."

"Er-hmm..." began Rudolf, hesitantly.  "Seville, perhaps YOU could guide Santa's sleigh tonight.  Do you feel up to that task?"

"Are you kiddin' me, Rudolf?  I'm a cat, not a reindeer.  MOUSES!"  Seville sat back on his haunches.  "Let me think.  Let me think!  Let me...  Hmmm..   Wait a minute...  Then he...  Then I...   Then...  OH MY MOUSES.  I'VE GOT IT!  I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT THE MOUSES IS GOIN' ON HERE."

Santa, Rudolf, and Mason stared at Seville, expectantly.

"Lemme see that compass," and Seville snatched it from Mason's paw.  He passed it over Rudolf several times before doing the same, over himself.  "Yup, Yup.  Just as I thought.  MOUSES!"

"Well are you going to explain it to the rest of us?" asked Mason.

Seville glared at his sister.  "Hold your horses...  Or should that be reindeer?  You know, 'cause we're at the North Pole and all and...  No matter.  Here goes," and Seville explained that with Rudolf's cold, he had been sneezing a lot, and each time he sneezed, he was expelling radioactivity in greater quantities than what he normally lost due to typical shedding.  More importantly, he was expelling his radioactivity more quickly than his body could replenish it.  With an insufficient amount of radioactive reindeer dust, Rudolf was losing his ability to fly.

"But how is that you can fly now?" Santa asked Seville.

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Not as obvious as your nose," Mason said with a smirk.

Seville shot a cutting glance at Mason.  "Remember?  Remember how Rudolf sneezed on me? That sneeze must have covered me in radioactive reindeer dust!  It was only after that, that I started to fly."  Seville stamped a paw in the snow with such force that he gently floated upward, hovering about a foot in the air.  Mason grabbed him by the tail and pulled him back down.

"So if I stop sneezing, I'll be able to fly again?" Rudolf asked.

"Probably," answered Seville.  "But with that cold of yours, I don't think we can count on your not sneezing, any time soon."

"Ah...  Ah...  Ah...  ACHOO!" sneezed Rudolf.  "Point taken," he sniffed.

"I think what we need to do is make you sneeze even more."  Padding over to Rudolf, Seville used his paws to quickly estimate the reindeer's size and body weight. "Santa, I'm gonna need six wand toys with feathers.  And Mason, go ask Mrs. Claus for ground black pepper.  Half a pound should do, give or take an ounce.  And Rudolf, you just hang tight while I fly back up onto the roof and grab those spare eggbeater parts I brought with me."

Santa returned from his workshop with six feather wand toys in tow, and Mason returned from the Claus' house with several jars of pepper.  They found Seville piling snow into a water trough he and Rudolf had managed to drag out of the barn.  Once filled with snow, Seville blasted it with a blow torch.

"Where'd you get the torch?" asked Mason.

"I didn't pack only snacks," Seville replied.  "Brought this, just in case.  Along with these eggbeaters," and he pointed to a row of beaters standing upright in the snow, alongside the trough."

"But how are eggbeaters and wand toys and pepper going to allow me to fly again?" Rudolf queried.

"Hold on there, little buddy.  Mason, start sprinklin' those wand toys with the pepper.  Santa grab a couple of 'em and brush 'em up against Rudolf's nose."

"Ah... Ah... Ah..."  began Rudolf.

"That's it, Rudolf!  But when you sneeze, MAKE SURE you sneeze into the trough of water.  Mason, you and I need to tickle Rudolf's nose with the peppered wand toys, too."

"Achoo!  ACHOO!  ACHOO!!!" sneezed Rudolf.

"Excellent!" cried Seville.  "Now Rudolf, you keep on sneezin'.  Santa, you keep ticklin' Rudy's nose with the wand toys.  Apply more pepper if needed, okay?  Mason, you and I need to start dipping these eggbeaters into the water in the trough.  Swirl 'em around for a minute or so, makin' sure they gather up lots of radioactive reindeer dust, then stand 'em upright in the snow.  I need the radioactive water on 'em to freeze.  Rudolf?  Try sneezin' right on the treated eggbeaters for a bit, too.  Just for good measure."

Within the hour, Seville's eggbeaters were covered in a thick layer of icy frozen radioactive reindeer dust.  The cat stood back to admire his handiwork.  "That should do the trick.  Santa, I think you're pretty much good to go."

"All I need are these eggbeaters?" asked Santa.

"Yup," answered Seville.  "We'll attach 'em to your sleigh and they'll boost power to whatever radioactivity Rudolf still has left, allowin' you at least one trip 'round the world.  By the time you need to deliver prezzies again next year, Rudolf should be over that cold."

"I had better be," exclaimed Rudolf.  "ACHOO!"

"Bless you," said Mason, patting the reindeer on his back.

Santa stood, shaking his head.  "Looks like you've saved the day there, Seville."

"One might even say I saved Christmas, huh?" and Seville smiled at Santa.

"One might, indeed," Santa answered with a wink.

"Well it's time for you and me to get back home, Seville," declared Mason.  "We need to be in bed and asleep before midnight, so that when Santa arrives in Nova Scotia, he can leave us our presents under the tree."

"Make sure you dispose of those peppered up wand toys, okay?" Seville whispered in Santa's ear. "No cat is gonna want to play with 'em now."

Still covered in radioactive reindeer dust, Seville took Mason by the paw, and together, they flew up onto the barn roof. Revving up the teleporation device, Seville waved down at Santa.  "See you in a few hours!" he cried.

Santa waved back, up at the cats.  "Merry Christmas Seville!  Merry Christmas Mason!  Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a good night."

reindeer dust

"Hey Mason, whatcha got there?  Somethin' interestin'?  Anythin' involvin' the nip?"

"You tell me, Seville.  It's a letter addressed to you. Well it's a scroll, actually. I found it lying here in front of the fireplace.  I think it came down the chimney."

"You're kiddin'!"  Seville padded across the family room floor and gave the rolled up piece of paper a good sniff.  It smelled old and musty with a faint, underlying aroma of sugar cookies.

And Mason was right about the scroll being for him, for Seville the Cat was written across it in black lettering.  "And you say it came down the chimney?  Never knew Canada Post started deliverin' mail that way.  Never knew they were deliverin' scrolls now at all!  MOUSES!"

"Why don't you open it up and see who sent it?" Mason suggested.  "It might be important."

Seville unrolled the scroll very gingerly, as it looked so old, he thought it might disintegrate if handled roughly.  "Hmmm..."

Dear Seville the Cat.  Emergency situation at North Pole.  We need your help.  Please come straight away.  Love, Santa.

"Oh my mouses, Mason!  This here letter is from Santa Claus, himself.  At least I think it's from Santa Claus.  You know of any other guys goin' by the name of Santa, these days?"

Mason rolled her eyes.  "I think it's safe to assume it's from the Big Guy in Red, all right.  And by the sound of it, he's in trouble.  Shall I prepare the teleportation device for two?"  And before Seville could argue about it, she added, "I'm going with you.  In an emergency situation, eight paws are better than four."

"Fine," Seville sighed loudly.  "You can come along.  MASON, PREPARE THE TELEPORTATION DEVICE.  I'll go pack up some snacks.  The North Pole is a fair distance away and one should never teleport snackless.  MOUSES!"

The two cats busied themselves getting ready for their trip up north, and within minutes, they were soaring across the Atlantic provinces in a north-westerly direction, heading straight for the pole.

"Shoulda brought a scarf or somethin', I think," Seville shivered.

"Shoulda coulda woulda," muttered Mason.  "Next time, perhaps you'll think of bringing that instead of all these snacks."

"Wanna freeze-dried salmon treat?" Seville offered.

"Don't mind if I do," and Mason popped one into her mouth before reaching for a second.

"There it is!" Seville cried as he spotted Santa's workshop down below.  "I'll bring us down next to the reindeer barn."

"HOLD ON TIGHT!  THERE'S AN UPDRAFT OR SOMETHIN' GOIN' ON HERE," Seville hollered. "By gosh and by golly, between all the radioactive reindeer dust and Santa's magic flyin' around, weather patterns at the North Pole create a mousin' lot of turbulence.  Landin' can be dicey at best. We'll be lucky if I can land this here flyin' fryin' pan within..."

SPLAT!

The cats' teleportation device hit the snow with a thump, but their velocity was so great, they slid several meters, picking up speed on an icy patch.  Seville hoped the snowbank up ahead would bring them to a stop but instead, the frying pan glided up its side, and before they knew it, they were airborne once again.

"MASON!  WE'VE GOT RADIOACTIVE REINDEER DUST IN THE FORWARD EGGBEATER.    BRUSH SOME OF IT OFF SO I CAN LAND THIS THING!!!"

"THE DUST HAS FROZEN ONTO THE BEATER, SEVILLE.  I CAN'T BRUSH IT OFF!"

"MASON, TAKE THE CONTROLS!  KEEP 'ER STEADY.  I'LL GET RID OF THAT DUST.  I KNOW JUST WHAT TO DO."

Mason managed to circle back once Seville had dealt with the frozen radioactive dust.  "How did you get rid of it?" she queried.

"Did what I had to do," Seville answered smugly.  "Good thing I'm a good aim when I spray."

"Ewww..."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah...  Least we can land this thing now.  Let me at those controls."


Santa's magic was still creating a lot of turbulence, and Seville had a hard time keeping the teleportation device steady.  It veered unexpectedly to the right, and then swung back, hard.

Thump.  THUMP. THUMP.

"We're down.  We've landed.  Whew!  That there was a close one, for sure," Seville sighed with relief.

Mason peered over the edge of the device.  "Uh, Seville.  You landed on top of the barn."

"I did?  Oh.  Well uh...  Um...  Least I landed somewhere!  No matter.  Santa lands on top of roofs all the time.  It's kinda his thing."

"But you're not Santa Claus!" Mason cried, flinging her paws up in the air.

"No, he is!" and Seville smiled as he saw Santa approaching.  "Come on Mason.  Let's go ask him why we were summoned."

Seville jumped down from the barn roof, onto the snow below, with Mason at his heels.

"Are you sure?  Are you SURE?" Seville asked Santa.

"I'm as sure as sure can be, little guy."  Santa scratched behind one ear.  "And for the life of me, I can't figure out what to do about it.  Nor can Mrs. Claus.  You're our last hope, Seville.  And if you and your sister can't find an answer, there will be no Christmas for all the little boys and girls around the world."

"Not to mention the cats," Seville murmured under his breath.

"Or the cats, either," Santa nodded.

"But are you absolutely sure Rudolf even has the cold?" Mason asked.  "I know his nose is all red and puffy but doesn't it always look like that?

"Yeah," piped up Seville. "How is Rudolf's nose different from any other time?"

As if in answer, Rudolf sneezed, spraying radioactive reindeer dust all over Seville.

"YUCK!  Okay, okay, I get the picture.  You don't have to sneeze on me twice!  Rudolf, you've got a nasty cold, for sure."  Seville patted the reindeer on his back.  "It's okay there, little buddy.  Mason and I will figure somethin' out.  We'll have you flyin' again, in no time."

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

Be sure to return on Christmas Day for the conclusion of our 2016 Christmas adventure!

this is Canada, Baby!

Boy-oh-boy those weatherpeeps have been busy.  Busy doin' whatever weatherpeeps do, I suppose.  What do they do, anyway? Anybody know?

Well I can tell you what they don't do. They don't actually control the weather.  Surely if they were controllin' the weather, they'd be able to keep it in line, you know?  Keep it under control.  Make the ol' weather a bit more agreeable and well...   you know... controlled.

Lately our weather has been out of control. Totally uncontrolled, for sure.  Ol' Jack Frost, the real power behind the weatherpeeps, has been wielding his little weather wand thingy that he uses to frostify the place and makin' things a little too frosty for my taste.  MOUSES!

One day last week, the ol' mercury dipped to -17C at one point and that was without the wild chill.  Not sure what the wind chill was, that day.  It was way too cold to go out and see.  Then we got a bit of a break when it warmed up in the afternoon to -15C.    Warmed up to -15C?  Warmed up?  What can I say?  This is Canada, baby!

And speakin' of the ol' mercury thing...  Isn't it funny how we still say that?  I know that thermometers used to contain mercury but they don't anymore.  Haven't for a very long time, I think, but we hang onto the phrase, anyway.  I bet that one day, in the far-off distant future, peeps will still be usin' that phrase but so much time will have passed between then and when thermometers still contained mercury, that most peeps won't remember the origins of the phrase, at all.  Stuff like that happens, you see.  Those future peeps will have to Google (TM) it, for sure.

And I wonder if the phrase, Google (TM) it, will hang in there, too?  And I also wonder if the Google (TM) in Google (TM) it should be capitalised since, in all honesty, you really are - accordin' to the rules of the English language - usin' the word as a verb and not a proper noun.  Of course, schools 'round here teach less and less grammar, these days, so perhaps no one will figure that out.  Interestin'...

I also wonder how peeps manage to include the proper little trademark icon thingy when they're writin' on Blogger.  I mean, Blogger (TM).  MOUSES!

But back to the weather.  It was really cold last week.

Well at least it was cold for part of last week and then it warmed up.  By the end of the week, temperatures warmed up to right around the freezin' point.

By Friday, the weather got really freaky.  First it snowed for a bit.  Then it rained.  Then it slushed. Yeah...  slushed.  That's what I call it when the white stuff comin' down isn't really snow nor is it rain but rather, somethin' you would find on the ground when the roads are all slushy.  Somethin' you would choose to walk around and not through on account of its slushiness.  Somethin' wet, cold, half frozen and icky.  MOUSES!

Hard to walk around the slush when it's fallin' down from the sky, you know?

What's that, Peepers?  You're sayin' that it was sleet?  Sleet, slush, whatever...  MOUSES!

Anywho...  It was slushin'.  After it slushed it started to snow again and then it began to slush, once more. That's when Peep #1 decided to run out to do some errands.  What a peep.

The followin' adventure was told to me by the peep.  I wasn't there to personally experience said adventure on account of my bein' a cat and way too smart to go out in a slushstorm, snowstorm or whatever you wanna call it.  That and the fact that I don't like goin' in the car, period.  Whenever I'm in the car, the car drives straight to my doctor's office.  MOUSES!

So after pickin' up the mail at the mailbox, Peep #1 drove to the post office to pick up a parcel and then down to the first grocery store on her list.  Walkin' into the post office from the car, and into the grocery store, too, the peep got slushed upon.  She walked through some of the slushy stuff, too.  Had she had more sense, she would have walked around that pile of slush but truth be told, had she had any sense at all, she wouldn't have gone out in the slushstorm in the first place.  MOUSES!

She found the stuff she needed at the store, paid for it and headed out.  By then it had stopped slushin'.  It was snowin' once more.  In fact, it had snowed enough that the peep had to clean off the car before gettin' back on the road.

Now one would think that Peep #1 would head straight home after that, right?  Wrong.  Sometimes I really wonder 'bout my peep.

She had two more errands to run so off to the mall she went.  She did what she needed to do there as quickly as she could, cleaned off the car AGAIN and then drove to the second grocery store. After racin' through the grocery store aisles, she was ready for home although she did have to stop and clean all the snow off the car once more.  MOUSES!

By this time is was dark.  Really, really dark and when I say really, I really mean, REALLY.  To the right and to the left of the peep, it was pitch black.  Not a thing could be seen.  It wasn't even six o'clock yet but if the clock in the car hadn't been tellin' her the time, Ol' Peepers would have thought it was well past midnight.

Snow was comin' at the car and makin' it hard to see but that was the least of Peep #1's worries. She couldn't see the road itself, at all.  The snow was coverin' the road so completely that she couldn't see the centre line or the ditches on either side.  All she could see was the white stuff, blanketing everything in sight.  The white stuff was here, there and everywhere!  The headlights were shinin' on the white stuff comin' at her and the white stuff lyin' on the road.  The road, itself, was completely hidden from view.

Slowly but surely the peep made her way home, eventually turnin' off the main road and into our subdivision. Inchin' her way home, she pulled into the driveway, stopped the car and headed inside.

The next mornin', I awoke to find the sun glintin' off white stuff in every direction.  It was really quite beautiful. A little on the cold side, though.  That's why I sent my sister, Tess, out on a reconnaissance mission.  I needed her to gather intel on the condition of the car.  I would have done it myself but like I said, it was cold.  Tess has more floof than I and floof, you see, helps keep a kitty warm.

Anywho...  Peep #1 had managed to return home with all parts of the car intact.  Well at least all parts that were there before she went out.  The car still had one side mirror.

Only one mirror you ask?  Yeah, 'bout that...

A couple of weeks ago, Peep #2 was drivin' when apparently, someone's green bin jumped out into the middle of the road, colliding with the car.

What's that, Peepers?  FINE.  The green bin didn't actually jump into the middle of the road and collide with the car.  It just reached out from the side of said road and gave the passenger side mirror a swipe. The second peep told the first peep 'bout the incident but neglected to include the fact that the mirror had gone missin'.  Gone.  Gone as in it had disappeared off the face of the Earth in a puff of smoke.  Another has been ordered and will be replaced as soon as one of the peeps is in the town where the car doctor works.

There's no word on the health and welfare of the mysterious, car swipin', green bin.

Well that'll teach the green bin to mess with one of my peeps!

And speakin' of messin'...  The other day, I was workin' on my blog when I heard yowls and howls comin' from the front of the house.  I sent the peep to investigate.

Peep #1 found my brothers, Seville and Anderson, both lyin' on the landin' leading upstairs with the small, two-and-a-half foot Christmas tree that usually stands on that landin'.between 'em.  The tree was lyin' down just like my brothers but the tree wasn't yowlin' or howlin'.  It wasn't growlin', either, unlike my brothers.

Apparently, marmie brothers don't always get along with one another.  It's a well-known fact that Seville and Rushton don't get along with each other and apparently, Seville and Andy don't, either.  Don't know who started this recent altercation but I can tell you this.  The innocent by-stander that was the small Christmas tree, took the fall...  LITERALLY.  Like I said, it was lyin' on the landin'.  Lyin' down.  'Cause it fell. Fell after bein' knocked down, is more like it.  MOUSES!