PURRsonal hygiene

When it comes to personal hygiene, I've got this stuff down pat.

Hmmm...  Scratch that.

When it comes to PURRsonal hygiene, I've got this stuff down pat.

And why is that?

Because I am a cat.

MOUSES!

Heeheeheeheehee...  Apparently I'm also a poet, although honestly, I didn't even know it.

Actually, I kinda did.

MOUSES!

But back to this stuff about hygiene.

The other day I was up on the bathroom vanity knockin' stuff down - you know, just for the fun of it -  when I came across some really stinky stuff.

FYI, if you knock an open jar of stinky stuff down, you end up with a really stinky floor.

MOUSES!

So anyway, the next thing I knew, there was white coloured goo all over the bathroom floor.  It was everywhere.  And when I say everywhere, I LITERALLY MEAN, EVERYWHERE.

MOUSES!

Well the peep, bein' a peep, discovered the mess and cried, "Seville!  What have you done?"

I, of course, nonchalantly looked about the room.  I looked up at the ceiling, then down at the floor.  Then back up at the ceiling once more.  After my mandatory two minutes of ignoring the peep, I asked, "You were sayin'?"

Well by that time the peep was moppin' up the floor with a rag.  Or maybe it was a face cloth.  Same thing, really.  Whatever.

I mean...

I mean, if the peep were a cat like me, she wouldn't be needing stinky ol' jars of flower-smellin' cream.  She wouldn't be needin' face cloths, either.  'Cause as a cat, I use spit on my very own tongue, and by golly gosh, I get the job done.

MOUSES!

But the peep...

Well...

You know...

When it comes right down to it, she's really just a peep.

MOUSES!

And oh my mouses, YOU SHOULD SEE the stack of rose this, and jasmine that, and citrus - EWWW... - whatchamacallits she has.  She has more STUFF than Imelda Marcos has shoes.  She has more STUFF than a centipede has feet.  She has more STUFF than a...  Well actually, a centipede does have a whole lot of feet, so maybe...  Nah, she has more stuff than a cat like me can count on my four feet.  I mean, paws.  Whatever.

HOWEVER, she does NOT have more STUFF than a cat like me can knock down.

True fact.

MOUSES!

As for me?  Do I have creams and lotions and soaps and things comin' out of my ears?  No sirree.  Like I said before, just spit is all I need.  Spit.  PLAIN OL' SPIT.  Just...  Spit.

And that reminds me.  Do any of you cats out there know what happens when one attempts to apply said spit to a peep's face?  Any of you have experience with that?  'Cause I've tried it and... Uh..

Well...

Well let me just say, the peep's reaction was not the reaction I had anticipated.  There were no thank-yous involved.  Not an ounce of gratitude at all.  In fact...

In fact, what I have discovered is, such acts of kindness on my part cause peeps to use even MORE of their stinky ol' stupid bathroom stuff.

Not to mention a whole lot of HBO words.

Although not nearly as many as when they find you knockin' their stinky jars and bottles of floral stinky stuff down.

Did I say spit?  I might have meant drool.  

MOUSES!

all Sir Fartsalot's fault

What do you mean, I can't have any cream? But Peepers, tomorrow is Thanksgiving.  You're gonna be havin' cream. You're gonna be havin' pumpkin pie with whipped cream on top,  Why can't I have some, too?

What do you mean, tomorrow isn't Thanksgiving up here in Canada?  What do you mean, it's only Thanksgiving for our pals in the United States? What do you mean, we already celebrated Thanksgiving, last month?  WHAT DO YOU MEAN?

Hmmm...

Okay Peepers, how 'bout this?  How about we celebrate Thanksgiving for a second time.  You know, 'cause so many of our pals are celebratin'.  Let's celebrate with 'em!  Nothin' wrong with having two Thanksgivings, I think.  Nothin' wrong with that, at all.  In fact, I think that bein' thankful for the life that we have is a good thing.  We're warm and safe and have our friends and each other. We're surrounded by love.  Bein' thankful for all that, twice, should be twice as good.  Right?

So now that that's settled, why don't you whip up an ol' pumpkin pie for tomorrow and we'll celebrate Thanksgiving for a second time, this year.  How 'bout it, Peepers?  You with me on this?

I'd like my pumpkin pie with extra whipped cream, minus the pie, please.

WHAT DO YOU MEAN I'VE BEEN CUT OFF FROM CREAM?  Awww...  MOUSES!

I thought for sure that Peep #1 would give me a little cream in celebration of Thanksgiving.

So there you have it, my friends, I've been cut off from the cream.  And do you know what?  It's all Sir Fartsalot's fault.  Again I must say, MOUSES!

So this is what happened...

It has been a long known fact that my marmie brothers, Seville and Rushton, are lactose intolerant. Neither one of 'em can touch a drop of anythin' dairy.  Not a drop.  Unfortunately, they both love the taste of dairy but the best the peeps can do for 'em is milky tastin' treats and whatnot.  From what they've told me, it's just not the same thing.

When my newest marmie brother, Anderson, came to live with us, Peep #1 figured he'd be lactose intolerant, too, and do you know what?  She was right.  The second peep gave him a smidgen of cream - against the wishes of the first peep - and the next thing we knew, Peep #2 had discovered a previously unknown source of renewable energy.  That's right, the cream gave my new brother gas.

The problem was, Anderson was hooked on the ol' cream the moment it passed his lips.  He wanted more and more of the stuff but Peep #1 put her paw down sayin', "No cream for Andy!"

Anderson was spendin' more and more time, gazing longingly at the refrigerator, hoping and praying that the peeps would relent and give him a drop of the cream but the peeps stood fast.  There was to be no cream for my marmie brother, Anderson.

Peep #1 went out and got some of the ol' cat milk.  Problem is, none of us really like the stuff...  except for Andy!  Now you'd think that would be a good thing, right?  'Cause Anderson would be happy gettin' cat milk while cats like me, every now and then, imbibed in a drop or two of the cream.

Normally, it would be a very good thing but Peep #2 was feelin' sorry for me while I watched Anderson down his saucer of cat milk, followed by mine.  So the second peep gave me a drop of cream.

Now let me tell you somethin'.  I, Nerissa the Cat, am eleven-and-a-half years old.  Durin' my eleven-and-a-half years, I have always been allowed to enjoy a little cream.  Never a lot.  Just a drop or two.  And only every now and then.  Never caused a problem.

But Peep #2 was feelin' sorry for me a little too much or somethin' and the next thing I knew, I was gettin' extra helpings of the cream.  This was all goin' on, unbeknownst to the first peep. Unbeknownst until...

Until the cream gave me gas.  MOUSES!

That's right, Peep #2 gave me way too much cream.  It all adds up, you see.  A drop here and a drop there, followed by a few more drops...  Long story short, Peep #2 gave me cream four times in one day.  What a peep.  What a way to ruin a good thing.  MOUSES!

Well I was not at all happy with the lack of cream and made my opinions known by settin' up camp in front of the refrigerator.  Peeps couldn't open the door without my pleadin' and beggin'.

That's when Peep #1 did some research and discovered that certain kinds of plain yogurt are low in lactose and the beneficial bacteria in 'em might actually help with lactose intolerance.  Even in cats. In fact, these types of yogurt are said to be perfectly fit for us cats.  Excellent.

So the first peep went shoppin'.  Home she came with not only the yogurt but also some chicken baby food.  I'm told that the baby food was the hardest thing to find.  For some reason, most of the chicken baby food on the market, 'round here, contains veggies and some of those veggies, like onions, aren't safe for us kitties.   The peep says it took her a long time to find the one and only variety of chicken that was veggie-free.

The peep mixed some of the chicken baby food in with a little yogurt.  I sniffed it.  I gave it a lick.  IT WAS YUMMY!  I devoured it in seconds.

Well...  that was a couple of weeks ago and suffice it to say, the novelty has worn off.

Oh sure, Anderson is still enjoying a steady supply of cat milk.  Anderson, who started this whole fiasco of the cream limitations with his lactose intolerance fartin'.  MOUSES!

Well the cat milk may be fine for Andy - hereby known as Sir Fartsalot - but what about me?  I have had to resort to, once again, beggin' and pleadin' by the refrigerator door, hoping against all hope that a peep will take pity upon me and give me a drop of cream. Just one drop.  That's all I ask!

But the peeps are both united on this front, now.  All ten of us cats have been cut off, cold turkey, from the cream.  Just wait 'til my sister, Tess, the butter fiend, finds out that butter is off the menu, too.  MOUSES!

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

And for all my American pals...   HAPPY THANKSGIVING!  May you all have a wonderful Thanksgiving, surrounded by good friends and loving family and may you all, ALL, get to enjoy a drop or two of the cream.