she's gone pro

So the other day, Peep #1 walked into the family room to investigate a noise.  It was a loud, rumbling noise and when I say loud, I mean loud.  The peep was hearing the rumbling from way over in the other room!

She stood there.  The peep, that is.  Yup, stood there and looked around.  Was the television on?  No.  Was the furnace making weird noises?  No on that account, too.  Was there an earthquake?  Oh my mouses, no.  "What is that noise?" she asked. "What IS that noise?"

"That loud, rumbling noise?" I asked the peep right back.  "That so-loud-it's-almost-deafening noise?"

The peep nodded.

"That's Mason," I answered.  "You know, Mason.  My sister.  She's gone pro."

Next came that look that only peeps can do.  That look of questioning and bewilderment and total confusion that you just know is gonna take an hour or two to explain even if the answer is as simple as simple can be.  Even if it's simpler than simple and should be oh-so-easy to see.

"Mason," I reiterated.  "Mason, my sister.  The cat has gone pro."

Peep #1 just stared at me like I was talking in a foreign language or something.

That's when Mason lifted her head and the loud, rumbling noise ceased momentarily.  "That's right," she began, "like Seville said, I've gone pro.  Sent my professional dues in the other day."

"Professional dues?" questioned the peep.

"Yeah, about that," continued Mason, "if you happen to notice a charge for something called the PPA on your credit card statement, just ignore it.  It's a legitimate charge.  Those are my dues."

"Dues?  PPA?  Charges?" the peep sputtered.  "What the mouses is going on?"

Okay, the peep didn't use the word mouses.  I edited that on account of this here being a family-friendly blog.  MOUSES!

Mason and I both sighed in unison before exclaiming together, "MOUSES!"  And yes, we cats did use the term, mouses.

Peep #1 sat down on the couch, looking a little pale in the face, I might add.  Clearly, her state of confusion was getting to her.  I sauntered over and lay down on her lap.

At that point, Mason got up from where she had been lying on the floor and she, too, walked over to the couch, before jumping up and rubbing the top of her head on the peep's chin.  She then lifted her head, put her two front paws on the peep's shoulders and looked straight into Peep #1's eyes.  "I've.  Gone. Pro." she explained in a slow and deliberate voice. "Pro, as in professional.  You know, pro - fe - sha - nal," she said as if speaking to a small child who happened to be hard of hearing as well as speaking an entirely different language.  "Mouses, do I need to spell it out?"

Peep #1 looked at Mason, and then at me, and then back at my sister.

"Yup, you had best spell it out for her Mason," I told my sister.  "She hasn't grasped the concept yet."

"I don't have time for this nonsense!" and Mason flung her paws up into the air before jumping down onto the floor and heading for her favourite spot in front of the television.  "I have to practice," she said.  "I'm in training.  You explain, Sivvers. Maybe she'll understand if you explain the concept of professionalism to her," and with that, my sister Mason lay down on the floor and started up her purring engine once more.

I glanced up at the peep.  "You've got to admit it, Peepers.  The girl is good.  She purrs like a pro, for sure.  It's no wonder they accepted her into the PPA the first time she applied."

"The PPA?" Peep #1 whispered in a whisper so quiet, it was barely audible.

"You're gonna have to speak up!" I hollered at the peep.  "I CAN BARELY HEAR YOU OVER MASON'S PURRING!"

And with that, Peep #1 rose to her feet and slowly walked out of the family room and has not broached the subject, since.  MOUSES!

So here's the deal.  My sister Mason is a purrer extraordinaire.  She purrs and she purrs and she purrs.  She can even purr while eating!  Good thing, too, 'cause the only thing she likes to do more than purr is eat, I'm afraid.

Oh, she does enjoy a good session with a wand toy or nip mouse, or a nip mouse attached to the end of a wand toy, as well.  And you guessed it, my friends...  The girl can purr while PLAYIN', too!

And not only does Mason purr with the best of 'em, she purrs with such volume, it can actually be quite unbelievable.  If I had a purr-o-meter on paw, I'm quite positive her purrs would cause the little needle to flip right over to the red maximum volume section of said meter, for sure.

Once, I heard a jet fly overhead, and was just about to call the air force base to complain 'bout the noise, before I realized, it wasn't a jet I was hearing at all, but rather, Mason, purring.  Sure am glad I didn't make that call.  Would have been super embarrassing for me.  Plus, I've been told not to bother the air force peeps any more.  Something about my teleportation device flying over restricted airspace.  It wasn't my fault.  Honest.  MOUSES!

So anyway, due to my sister's extraordinary purring abilities, I suggested she join the PPA - the Professional Purring Association - and she agreed.  Questionnaires were filled out, references were sought, and once her dues were paid, she was in.  I can now say, I have a sister who can not only purr like a professional, but is an professional, too.

But don't think she's resting on her laurels and stuff.  First of all, she has no laurels upon which to rest.  I'm thinking that's a plant of some sort and to be perfectly honest, the peep isn't growing any of that, yet.

But back to the resting.  My sister is not resting at all.  Rather, she's practicing every chance she can get.  She purrs while watching television, while eating, and bathing, too.  I do believe, she can even purr while sleeping.  Or maybe that's really snoring.  Not exactly sure of that one yet.

So far, no one has hired Mason to purr for them, but I'm thinking it's only a matter of time.  As a member of the PPA, her name will be added to their registrar so now that the word is out, peeps will be wanting to hire the girl with the level 10 purr on the Richter - I mean, Purr - Scale, to be sure.  After all, a cat's purr can help heal bones and reduce high blood pressure.  It can even add years to your life!  Yup, known fact.  Living with a cat who purrs is good for your health.  I read it on the Internet so surely it MUST be true.

So if you're reading this here blog post, and you'd like to hire Mason for purring, just give me a call.  She charges regular hourly rates and accepts credit, cash and nip.  And as her agent, I'll be taking a fifteen percent cut.  MOUSES!

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

Update on 'The Big Dig.'  If all goes as planned, it should begin, tomorrow.  MOUSES!

string theory

Kitty physics.  You've gotta love it but boy-oh-boy is it ever complicated.  MOUSES!

Well...  It's not so complicated for me, of course.  Not complicated for me because I'm a kitty and we kitties understand kitty physics better than peeps ever will because...  you know...  we're kitties. MOUSES!

But I was trying to explain some kitty physics to the peeps the other night and let me tell you, they're as hopeless with kitty physics as they are with other important kitty stuff such as mousing and jumping in the air several times their own height.

You ever watch a peep mousing?  You ever watch a peep try to catch a mouse with nothing but their bare paws?  Not only is it not a pretty sight but they can almost never do it.  Very similar to their trying to comprehend kitty physics, to be sure.

Now that's interesting.  The word catch starts with the letters c, a and t which, of course, spell cat.  Very interesting, indeed.  It's no wonder the peeps can't catch onto kitty physics no matter how many times you try to explain it to them. MOUSES!

But back to the point at paw.  I mean hand.  No, I actually do mean paw.  MOUSES!

Okay, so the other night, I was trying to explain String Theory to the peeps.  Long story short, the peeps didn't understand and we have a whole mess of string that is now somewhat...  well uh... messy, to the least.

Actually, the peeps didn't have any string on paw so we used yarn.  Pretty much the same thing, I suppose, except for the fact that we now have a whole mess of unusable yarn rather than unusable string but either way you look at it, the stuff is kind of unusable.  Nope, that's not right.  It is unusable.  That yarn will never be even considered for use in knitting again.  MOUSES!

Now you might be wondering why I, as a cat, know about String Theory in the first place.  Fact is, we cats are very interested in strings and theories revolving around said strings are of equally great interest.  Strings are right up there with nip but as there are currently no Quantum Nip Theories in the world of physics, String Theory has soared to the top of the feline physicist's list.

That being said, there is a school of thought that once tried to unify Quantum Loop Theory with a Quantum Nip Theory on the basis that cats can get a little loopy when they're on the nip.

No, that's not correct.  There was a school of thought that tried to unify Quantum Loop Theory with a Quantum Nip Theory however that school of thought turned out to be a school of fish and when a clowder of loopy cats on the nip got the munchies - as we all know happens when cats are nipped - well...  Well let's just say that particular school of thought no longer exists.  MOUSES!

So that pretty much brings us back to the strings.

After trying to explain String Theory to the peeps for what seemed like an eternity (I swear I used up a whole, entire life), I thought to myself, maybe some visual aids might help.  So I grabbed Peep #1's bag of tricks - I mean, yarn - and started explaining this concept of strings.  Strings within strings within strings within strings.

That's where I went wrong, my friends. I should have started with something other than strings because explaining that there were strings within the very subatomic particles making up those strings proved to be far too confusing for the peeps.

I briefly thought Peep #2 was getting the gist until I realised, the second peep's lack of questions was actually due the peep having fallen asleep. MOUSES!

Peep #1 didn't fall asleep,though.  No, she was far too concerned with her yarn.  Her yarn that I had strung all over the family room, this way and that.

But after having strung balls of various coloured yarn all over the place, I was in far too deep to ever go back.  MOUSES!

So with the strings strung about the room, I grabbed an old whisk and started to whisk, explaining that the vibrations of said whisk would cause the strings within the whisk's atoms to vibrate, too. These subatomic vibrating strings, of course, are what allow us to access the ninth dimension using whisk technology, which is what allows us to travel through time.

This was my second mistake.  Do you know what happens when you start whisking with a whisk in a room strung up with string?  Knots.  Yup, not-so-good, good old-fashioned knots.  There were knots all over the place.  The strings were tangled up in ways I had never imagined possible.  So tangled, in fact, I momentarily thought I might have accidentally proved some sort of unifying Quantum Nippy Loop Theory, previously unknown.  MOUSES!

So I instructed Peep #2 to gather up all the string as let's face it, String Theory was clearly beyond the second peep's grasp and turned my attention to explaining to Peep #1 how String Theory applies to eggbeater teleportation technology.  How the curvature of the eggbeater's beaters spinning around one another and vibrating the strings within them warps the very fabric of space and time, much as gravity does.  This, of course, allows us to access energy sources in the fourth, fifth and sixth dimensions which power the teleportation device, hurtling us through space until we reach our destination.

And this, my friends, was my third and final mistake of the night.  Being a little drowsy after being awakened from that nap, Peep #2 had not yet cleaned up the mess with the strings and so when I fired up the old eggbeater, one of those strings got caught up in a beater.  Next thing I knew, the eggbeater was flying around the room picking up speed and getting more and more entangled with the string.  The peeps fled out of sheer terror as I, Seville the Cat, tried to catch the eggbeater in mid-flight.  That turned out to be more difficult than I had anticipated but luckily, as the eggbeater's beaters got more and more entangled with those strings. it reached a tipping point and the strings made of yarn brought it to a sudden stop.

Unfortunately, even though the actual string - yarn - put the brakes on the eggbeater's flight, the strings within the atoms of the eggbeater were still vibrating at top speed, accessing energy from goodness knows what dimensions.

Bottom line is, we currently have an unstable time vortex in the family room. I've pushed a big plant in front of it and am hoping no one will notice until I can figure out how to seal that thing up. MOUSES!

Stay tuned for next week, we'll discuss supernovas, black holes and the illusive red dot.

I need one

OH MY MOUSES!  I want one.  I need one.  I HAVE to have one, for sure.

Did you hear?  Did you hear it on the news?  Oh my mouses, this is the best thing since sliced bread.

Well technically, being a cat and all, I'm not really into bread whether it's sliced, cubed or falling apart into crumbs but this... THIS...  This is the best thing since FOREVER.  MOUSES!

Apparently, the Ontario government is investing fifty million dollars in self-driving cars.

The big news isn't about the investment. The BIG news is that the cars drive on their own.  MOUSES!

Now you might be wondering why I, Seville the Cat, would care about a self-driving car.  I know, I have long been an opponent to the whole car thing because, as you know, the peeps' car appears to know how to drive to only one place and that place happens to be the doctor's office although, I am told, when I'm not actually in said car, it drives to other places as well, such as the grocery store, which would in fact make the car actually useful but as I have not personally witnessed this driving to the grocery store business myself, I am still undecided on the whole car thing, generally speaking.

Whew!  There's an award-winning run-on sentence, for sure.  Someone pass me a Pulitzer.

But back to these cars that don't need drivers.  This is perfect!  Even though I am somewhat car opposed, I have long wanted a car of my very own.  One that knew how to go to places other than the doctor's office.  One I could drive myself!  My problem, of course, has been finding a car small enough for cats.  Small enough for cats to drive.  Small enough so that I can reach the gas pedal, not to mention the brakes.  MOUSES!

With a self-driving car, I wouldn't have to reach those unreachable pedals.  How perfect is that for a cat?  MOUSES!

And a self-driving car could be programmed beforehand... Hmmm...  Before paw?  Doesn't really matter. What does matter is that it could be programmed to go wherever I want it to go and believe-you-me, I would not be programming it to take me to the doctor's office and that is for sure.

Like I said, I need one of these self-driving cars.  Only question is, should I write to the Premier of Ontario asking if I could test drive one without really driving it, of course, as it would be driving itself or should I just bypass her and write to Santa Clause?  Decisions, decisions...  MOUSES!

You're probably wondering why I even need a car of my own.  You're probably wondering why I don't just teleport on over to the grocery store.  Well truth be told, I tried that once.  Didn't work out at all. Our local grocery store has no parking for flying frying pans, you see.  Can you believe it? MOUSES!

I once heard tell of a cat who tried to park in a regular parking space in a regular parking lot and some bozo ran right over his teleportation device, parking on top of it.  Yup, it's true.  Guy's name was Bozo.  The circus was in town, you see.  MOUSES!

But back to that self-driving car.  Only other thing I've heard of that was as good as a self-driving car was one that could fly.  Yup, I saw a flying car on Facebook, a while back.  Did you happen to see that too?  It was a car but it flew.  Don't think it used eggbeater teleportation technology, either.

And if I'm not mistaken, that car could fly on its own, just like the self-driving car.  Yup, it was a programmable self-flying car, for sure. Programmable self-flying as opposed to self-driving, you see.

The other night, I was watching television with the peeps when an advertisement came on for flying penguins.  Well the ad wasn't for the penguins but rather, it was starring them.  And the penguins weren't actually flying in the ad because, of course, penguins can't fly.  I think they were going to use air miles or something like that.  But I bet they could fly even without using air miles, had they had one of those flying cars sitting in their garage. They should look into that, for sure.

I actually don't know what the ad was advertising as while I was watching those penguins, my mind was otherwise occupied.  The penguins, you see, were penguin-sized which is what one might expect.  You know, with their being penguins and all.  But they lived in a peep-sized house and they used peep-sized appliances.  And watching those penguin-sized penguins struggle with all those peep-sized appliances just made me feel sorry for them because really, what they need more than a vacation is a house with appliances more suitably sized for penguins.  MOUSES!

Penguins might not fly but squirrels do.  That's why some of them are called flying squirrels.

Now technically, flying squirrels don't fly but sort of glide but that's neither here nor there because they look like they're flying and that's for sure.

There are flying squirrels right here in Nova Scotia, I am told, but not, as far as I know, in my yard. But nevertheless, I've seen squirrels fly.  It's true!  Even those big grey squirrels can fly high amongst the tops of the trees.  They're so light they can race along the thinnest of branches, leaping from one to another and watching them, you'd swear they were flying whether really flying squirrels or not.

Now here's a thought.  Answer me this.  If squirrels were to be featured in an advertisement on TV, would they live in a squirrel-sized house or one built for peeps?  And if the ad were to show them baking nut pies as we all know squirrels do, would the appliances they use be peep-sized or would they be more appropriately sized for squirrels?  I mean, can you really picture a squirrel attempting to bake nut pies in a peep-sized kitchen?  Sounds pretty unbelievable to me.  Crazy.  Crazier than a squirrel making nut pies kind of crazy, for sure.  MOUSES!

And what's more, would those squirrels be paid in peanuts?

One might think that entertaining squirrels might find being paid in peanuts acceptable but truth be told, they don't.  Nope, I've heard they like cold, hard cash.  Yup, it's true, although I'm sure they'd accept a cheque if you were to show two valid forms of ID.

No one has ever tried to pay me with peanuts but that might be because I'm not a squirrel.  They have tried to pay me with nip, though.  No, sorry.  That wasn't me being paid.  That was a bribe. Turns out you can, in fact, bribe a cat with nip.  MOUSES!

But the bottom line is, you can't buy a self-driving car with peanuts or nip. Nope, you need the cash.  You need to have cash on paw, for sure.  And as I have come to the conclusion that I REALLY NEED one of those self-driving cars, I'm going to have to start saving up my pennies and since there's no such thing as a Canadian penny these days, I'll have to save up my nickels and dimes, too.  I will not, however, have to save up any peanuts.

On the other paw, as I've already been saving up to invest in nip futures, perhaps I can use the money earned from that futuristic nip to buy one of those self-driving cars.

Oh my mouses, this is confusing even for me and as you know, I don't confuse all that easily.

I think I need to imbibe in a little nip.  MOUSES!

the situation room

It was a hot and muggy summer night.  An owl could be heard outside, hooting as owls like to hoot and the noise awakened Seville with a start.  He stretched, letting out a huge yawn. "Think I'll go get a drink of cool water or something," he thought aloud.  "Might need to use the litter box, too."

Making his way down the upstairs hallway, Seville stumbled when his paw hit a metal object lying on the floor.  He squinted in the moonlight streaming through an open window.  "MOUSES!  What's this laser saw doing in the middle of the hallway?  Didn't even know the peep had one of these.  Gosh, I sure could use a laser saw, myself.  It would come in handy when I'm working on building teleportation devices."  Placing the laser saw next to the wall, Seville made a mental note to collect it after getting his drink and using the box.

A moment later, Seville stumbled again.  "What the...?  Oohhh...  Some sort of subspace audio transistor thing-a-ma-gig.  MOUSES!  Where is the peep getting this stuff?  She must have a stash of it stashed away somewhere.  I bet I can make use of this, too," and he propped the subspace audio transistor thing-a-ma-gig up against the wall, next to the laser saw.

Almost at the top of the stairs, Seville stumbled once more.  He fell forward and his attempt to catch himself, failed.  Seville's back legs were tossed up into the air and he somersaulted forward not once, not twice but three times before finally landing with a thud against the bookcase at the end of the hall.  With all four legs splayed out against the bookcase, he felt a warm sensation under his right front paw.  Then seemingly from behind the bookcase came a gentle whirring noise followed by three sharp clicks.  Managing to gain his footing, he backed away from the bookcase, only to find a golden circle marked with a paw print where his paw had been resting. "That's new. MOUSES!"

Seville examined the circle and paw print from all angles.  He then discovered, over to its left, a small flashing red light.  Thinking he might have found the secret home of the illusive red dot, Seville looked even more closely. Closing one eye, he pressed up against the bookcase and squinted into the light.

Suddenly a red laser beam appeared, shining directly into his open eye.  Then he heard a vaguely familiar, soft female voice stating, "Retinal scan, complete."  Before Seville knew it, a bright light was shining down upon him from the ceiling and the same soft voice stated, "Cat scan, complete. Identity confirmed."

Then before Seville's very eyes, the entire bookcase slid to one side, exposing an open doorway he had never before seen.  Cautiously, Seville stepped though it only to hear a noise behind him.  The bookcase had slid back into place, trapping him inside.

Seville realised he had entered a large room.  The lighting was low but the glow of several dozen screens lit up the far wall, streaming what appeared to be news feeds from around the world.  In front of the wall was a long desk and sitting at that desk with books and papers scattered all about her, was a familiar figure.

"MASON, what the mouses are you doing?" Seville asked his sister.

Mason spun around.  "There you are, Sivvers.  Welcome to the Situation Room."

"The Si...  The Situ... The Situa..."  Seville's jaw dropped.  "MOUSES!"

"And you're just in time, Seville," Mason breathed with a sigh of relief. "There's a report of a developing situation off the coast of Prince Edward Island.  We have intel that the Weasel Syndicate has intercepted a shipment of stainless steel whisks."

"They've what?" Seville cried.  "How big was the shipment?  What are those moused-up weasels planning to do with..."  Seville stopped mid-sentence.  "Uh Mason, exactly how much do you know about whisks and weasels and syndicates and stuff?"

"I know enough.  What's more, I know that those whisks are necessary for your experiments with time travel, Seville.  I also know that the Weasel Syndicate is bad news.  You may not have known it but I always kept a close eye on you and Nissy with your experiments in eggbeater-whisk time travelling-teleportation physics.  Not to mention your adventures."

"You did?  But..."

"If it weren't for me, Seville, you and Nissy would never have been able to do all that you did.  I kept my distance, always staying in the background but I was watching, nevertheless.  Watching and running interference between the two of you and the peeps.  Now with Nissy gone," and a tear ran down Mason's cheek, "I'll have to take a more paws-on approach.  That's why I built this Situation Room where we can work privately and without peeps getting in our way."

"It's pretty impressive, all right," and Seville gazed about the room.  "But I'm betting an open time vortex in this place could cause a few problems.  Time vortexes and news feeds tend to be incompatible.  Believe me, I speak from experience.  Where can I work on the actual teleportation devices?"

Mason smiled from ear to ear.  "Got that covered.  I'm in the process of building you a little lab downstairs but I've misplaced my laser saw.  Need that to finish the job.  You haven't seen a laser saw lying about, have you Seville?"

"A laser saw?"  Seville crossed his claws behind his back.  "No...  I haven't seen one of those. Awww...  MOUSES!  I can't lie to you, Mason.  Found a laser saw in the hallway a few minutes ago. Thought it belonged to the peep."

"What the mouses would Peep #1 be doing with a laser saw, Sivvers?  You know darned well the peep can't handle technology like that.  BOYS!  They never think things through," and Mason stomped out of the Situation Room only to return, seconds later, with the laser saw in tow.  Opening her mouth, she spat out the subspace audio transmitter thing-a-ma-gig Seville had found earlier, too. "Didn't happen to mention finding this, huh?" she asked of her brother.

"Well uh..." and Seville pawed at the floor.

Mason pursed her lips.  "Never mind, we need to get down to business at paw.  Like I said, we have intel that Weasel Syndicate operatives have intercepted a shipment of whisks off the coast of Prince Edward Island.  The whisks are high-quality stainless steel.  Perfect for time travel, I do believe.  Only one of two reasons those weasels would want whisks and neither one is good..."

A loud bell rang several times and a large calico cat's face appeared on one of the screens on the wall, interrupting the feed that had been previously displayed.  Mason grabbed Seville by the paw. "Sit up straight," she hissed.  "That's the Director's personal line.  And for goodness sake, stop flicking your tail."

Seville sat up as straight as he could, tucking his tail beneath him.  "Director of what?" he asked Mason in a whisper."

"The IFIA," Mason hissed in reply.  "Stands for the International Feline Intelligence Agency.  I signed us up."

"You what?"

"They have operatives everywhere, tracking all Weasel Syndicate movements across the globe. Where else would the intel about the whisks have come?" Mason rolled her eyes.  "I've said it once and I'll say it again, boys.  Now pay attention.  HELLO THERE DIRECTOR PATCHES," and she raised her voice, clearly talking to the cat on the view screen.

Seville listened in while Mason spoke with the the IFIA Director, trying to make sense of his late-night discoveries when all of a sudden he realised that he never had gone to use the litter box as he had earlier planned.  He began to rock from side to side causing Mason to kick him with a back paw.  Then he tried to think of dry things like deserts but thinking of deserts made him think of sand which made him think of sandboxes which, of course, caused him to envision a giant litter box.  All of a sudden he burst into the conversation yelling, "I GOTTA GO PEE!  Nice meeting you your... Directorship.  GOTTA RUN!!!"

Mason watched Seville run from the Situation Room.  Turning back to Director Patches, the two cats locked eyes before both crying in unison, "BOYS!"

In the meantime, Seville headed downstairs at full-speed, trying to make it to the little boys room before it was too late. "Awww...  MOUSES!" he suddenly cried.  "Man, that's gonna stain I bet," and he scratched the back of his head and behind an ear.  "I had best not tell the peep it was me."

flyin' fryin' pans

So I was listenin' to the news the other day when all of a sudden, what was bein' reported sunk in and I said to myself - and anyone else in the room who happened to be listening - MOUSES!  I had best get crackin' on workin' on that.

Sometimes I just kinda listen to the news. Sometimes I don't really pay it a whole lot of attention but instead, just keep an ear out for anythin' related to the really important stuff. You know, like nip.  Not a lot of nip news though, I'm afraid.  MOUSES!

And of course I'm always listenin' for news regardin' the Senate, too.  I still intend on becoming Canada's first feline Senator so I've always got my other ear out, listenin' for Senate updates.

It's a good thing I have two ears, for sure.

But the other day, even though the newspeeps weren't talkin' about nip or the Senate, I listened in anyway.  Sometimes I do that.  Sometimes I'm truly interested in what they're reportin' and other times, I'm just lookin' for fodder for my blog.

Not quite sure why I was listenin' in on this particular report 'bout submarines but, knowin' how my mind sometimes works, I'm thinkin' that all the submarine talk reminded me of submarine sandwiches which would be good for snackin' if my peeps weren't veggies but nevertheless are still shaped like cigars which some peeps out there smoke just like some peeps - NOT mine - smoke marijuana that gives 'em a high like catnip does for me and so you see, the whole news report obviously reminded me 'bout nip so clearly, I had to listen in.

How's that for a run-on sentence, huh?  I'm thinkin' that might be a contender for the run-on sentence Olympics, for sure.

Anywho...  Turned out the newspeeps were talkin' about submarines and not nip.  MOUSES!

But I'm glad I paid attention anyway 'cause it was pretty important stuff.

Way back in 1998, the then Government of Canada bought four Victoria-class submarines for the bargain price of under a billion dollars from the United Kingdom.  Now for the first time in seventeen years, three of those four subs are in workin' order - all at the SAME time - and available for operations.  Makes you wonder if there should be lemon laws for subs, huh?  Again I must say, MOUSES!

But 'nough about that.  The important thing to remember in all this is that I have a fleet of flyin' fryin' pans to consider.

As you all know, my brother Seville and I are the world's leading experts in eggbeater-whisk time travellin'-teleportation technology.  The eggbeaters and whisks power the technology.  The actual vehicle is a fryin' pan.

Truth be told, eggbeater technology will power any vehicle but the bigger and heavier said vehicle is, the more eggbeaters that you require and eggbeaters don't come cheap.  Believe me, I know.

That's why Seville and I like to use our trusty ol' fryin' pan.  Only one eggbeater is required.

But all this talk on the news 'bout Canada havin' bought second-hand citrus fruit - sorry, I mean submarines - got me to thinkin'.   What would Seville and I do if somethin' bad happened to our fryin' pan?  What if it rusted or somethin'?  Gosh, we couldn't have that.  We needed to have a replacement on order, for sure.  MOUSES!

Actually, Seville and I really should have a whole fleet of fryin' pans at our disposal.  If not a fleet, at least one backup or maybe two.

So I began my on-line search for fryin' pans.  There were so many options.  Did I want to order 'em up for construction or buy somethin' already built.

I came across a couple slimy sales pitches but mosied right on by.  Fryin' pans only used by little old ladies to fry up Sunday brunches after church.  How stupid did they think I was?  I wasn't fallin' for that.

And the used fryin' pans bein' sold "as is."  As if is more like it.  I watch Judge Judy.  I know what that means.  MOUSES!

No, I knew I didn't want anythin' used.  There would be no second-hand fryin' pans for me.  Seville once bought refurbished eggbeaters from the Weasel Syndicate and they proved to be nothin' but trouble, for sure.  So I decided to avoid any fryin' pan sources affiliated with the Weasel Syndicate along with all those that made mention of bargain basements, lemonade stands and refurbishment. Seemed like a wise precaution considerin' all things submarine, if you know what I mean.  Of course you do.

There were definitely some deals that sounded way too good to be true.  You can't buy a fryin' pan for pennies.  Even I know that.  Gosh, we don't even have pennies here in Canada any more. MOUSES!

Finally, I decided upon a nice enamel version.  New technology but not so new it was untried. Scratch resistant which is very important considerin' Seville and I have claws.  Rust resistant and even leak proof, too.  Brand new.  Reasonably priced but not so cheap as to be suspicious. Everythin' in workin' order...  GUARANTEED.  Plus, the seller was the manufacturer and not some guys tryin' to pawn off somethin' they themselves no longer wanted 'cause, you know, it was broken or somethin' like that.

A few clicks later and I had my new fleet of flyin' fryin' pans on order.  Both of 'em should be arrivin' any day now.  Once Seville and I install the eggbeaters and whisks, they'll be up and runnin' in no time at all.  SWEET.

And speakin' of sweet things, remind me to tell Peep #1 she needs to buy some sugar this week.  When browsin' for fryin' pans, I found a source for lemons, really cheap.  I ordered her up a case or two.  As a cat, I don't care for lemons but I know that the peeps do.  I figured they might enjoy makin' some lemonade.

And I'm assumin' there are lemon laws for lemons.  But what if there aren't? Nah, that would be silly.  You buy lemons from a lemon salesman, you should definitely be guaranteed to get lemons but if they turn out to be grapefruit or limes, I'll be askin' for my money back, for sure.  MOUSES!

like clockwork

"Seville, did you pack everythin' we're gonna need?  This is an important mission.  We need to be extra prepared."

"Still gathering up a few odds and ends," Seville informed Nerissa. "Toss those nuts and bolts into a bag.  We might need them."

Nerissa pawed at one of the piles of nuts and bolts scattered about the room. "Where did they all come from?" he asked Seville.

"Oh, here and there."

Nerissa narrowed his gaze toward his brother.  "Here and there?"

"Well you see, every time I take something apart, I have leftover pieces when I put it back together again.  Those are the leftover bits from various projects," Seville explained.  "We might need some of them in London.  Could come in handy."

Earlier that morning, Nerissa and Seville had been summoned by Her Majesty, the Queen of England; Scotland Yard; and some guy who called himself The Keeper.  Nissy didn't know exactly what this guy kept but the scroll on which the summons was written looked extremely official.

The toaster transporter had been dinging away like it had never dinged before.  Every time Nissy turned around, another summons appeared.  The people of London were desperate for his and his brother's assistance.

"Should we bring along one of those scrolls?" Seville asked Nerissa.  "You know, to let everyone know we're really us and not some impostors tryin' to access Big Ben."

"Nah, I think they'll recognise us without the paperwork, Sivvers.  I'm pretty sure the Queen reads my blog."

Nissy grabbed a couple of extra backup whisks before ordering, "PREPARE THE TELEPORTATION DEVICE," and moments later the two cats were soaring through time and space on their way to London, England.  Gently gliding to a stop on the ground below Big Ben, they climbed out of their flying frying pan and looked around.  "Hmmm...  no official welcoming committee? MOUSES!"

A very frazzled looking man, wearing a long lab coat, hurried out of the clock tower.  Clasping his hands to his face he exclaimed, "You've arrived!  Come along, moggies," and he grabbed each cat by a paw, dragging them into the tower.  "You're our last hope, you two. If you can't fix this, I don't think anyone can."

"Excuse me, Mister, but we can walk a whole lot faster if you let go of our paws," Nerissa huffed.

"Of course, of course...  And where are my manners?  I'm Alistair Thackeray.  I summoned for you this morning."

"You and just about everyone else in London," Seville said.  Looking around he added, "When do we meet the Queen?"

"I'm sure we'll meet her after we fix Big Ben," Nissy hissed to his brother.

Seville glared at Nissy before whispering, "And why did he call us moggies?  What is a moggy, anyway?"

"I think it's somethin' the English call cats," Nissy answered.  "Roll with it.  You know, when in Rome, do as the Romans do.  That sort of thing."

"But we're not in Rome, Niss.  This is London!"

"Uh, yeah," and Nissy turned back to the man he now believed to be The Keeper, although still unaware of what exactly was being kept.  "Anywho...  Time's a wastin'.  Let's get this show on the road, Alistair.  What exactly is the problem?"

Alistair cleared his throat and began to explain.  "Early this morning, it was noticed that Big Ben had stopped chiming.  I immediately investigated and discovered that the mechanism inside the clock tower had stopped working.  Everything had simply ground to a halt."

"The entire city is in a panic," Alistair continued.  "The mechanisms inside the tower are powered by gravity.  As gravity is constant, the gears should continue moving.  If they've stopped..."

"I see," and Nissy sat back on his haunches.  "If the gears have stopped workin', somethin' has altered the gravity around the clock tower.  Is that why you called us in?  'Cause Seville and I are the world's leading experts in eggbeater-whisk time travelling-teleportation technology and you're aware that in order to travel through time, we have to manipulate the gravity waves..."

"Not exactly," Alistair interrupted.  "I called for the two of you because of the discovery I made while inspecting the gears in the clock mechanism.  See for yourself," and he pointed to the mechanism that powered Big Ben.

"Hmm..." murmured Nerissa.

"Er-hmm," Seville cleared his throat.

"What you have there are a couple of whisks," stated Nissy.  "They appear to be uh...  jammin' up the works, so to speak.  We're gonna have to get those out of there. Sivvers, pass me a wrench."

"Hold on Nissy!" Seville cried.  "Don't touch them.  I'm picking up electromagnetic anomalies in the space-time continuum.  The whisks appear to be generating their own magnetic force, altering the gravitational forces within the immediate area.  They're warping the very fabric of space and time."

"What could cause somethin' like that?" Nerissa questioned.  "Those whisks must be..."

"Out of sync with space and time," and Seville finished his brother's thought.  "They're creating a small time vortex in which the localised space-time continuum has been frozen.  It's that vortex that has stopped Big Ben from chiming."

"What are you two moggies going on about?" asked Alistair.  "Time vortexes?  Continuums?  Just tell me how those whisks got into my clock mechanism."

Nissy peered closely at one of the whisks.  "Oh-oh...  Sivvers take a look at this."

The two cats immediately recognised the whisk as being one of the whisks Nissy and Seville had brought with them to London.  "But we just packed that up this morning.  Packed it up after we were summoned here..." and Seville's voice drifted off.

"Well that explains the anomalies in the space-time continuum," muttered Nerissa.  "Big Ben is caught up in a time causality loop.  No wonder it's not chimin'!"  Grabbing the whisk with both paws, he gave it a mighty yank, freeing it from the clock mechanism.  "Sivvers, grab that other whisk and pull."

With the whisks removed, the gears in the clock mechanism stirred to life.  Nissy stood tall, holding his tail high in a confident position.  "All fixed up, Alistair.  Just in time, too.  This is New Year's Eve.  Can't imagine what would happen if Big Ben wasn't able to chime on the stroke of midnight to bring in the new year."

Alistair narrowed his eyes.  "Now explain to me again how those whisks got into my clock.  They were your whisks, did you say?"


Nissy coughed.  "Time causality loops are very complicated things," he explained, hurriedly.  "Have to do with quantum theory and whatnot.  You probably wouldn't understand.  My whisks...  Seville's whisks...  The Galloping Gourmet's whisks!  Who knows to whom those whisks originally belonged.  Or will belong..."

Stuffing the whisks into the bag with the extra nuts and bolts the cats had brought from home, Nissy directed Alistair away from the clock mechanism and down the staircase.

"So tell me, what have we got planned for tonight?  Fireworks?  Music?  Snacks?  Midnight arrives here in London four hours ahead of Nova Scotia so Sivvers and I have a couple of hours to kill before headin' home to celebrate with the peeps.  Didn't receive a party invite from Buckingham Palace but I'm pretty sure that was just an oversight.  You think they'll have nip?  Oh, and while we're there, you can introduce us to the Queen.  I'm gonna wanna wish her a Happy New Year, for sure.


                                    HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

spies are everywhere

Did you hear?  Did you hear 'bout how the Canadian government has been spyin' on us kitties on Facebook?

It's true.  Just last week, the Federal Privacy Watchdog announced that the Government of Canada has been spyin' on us kitties   They've been readin' our statuses and whatnot and takin' notes.

And why a privacy watchdog, anyway? Why not a cat?  But I digress...

Actually, I would imagine that they're not restricting themselves to just the kitties.  There are a lot of dogs and bunnies on Facebook, too.  Maybe even some ferrets and pigs.  MOUSES!  Are there mice?  Could be.  Once heard tell of a squirrel on Twitter.

But you've gotta wonder just why they're spyin' on us kitties in the first place.  What do they want to learn?

They'll be very interested in learnin' more about my research into egg beater-whisk time travelling-teleporation technology, of course.  Everyone wants to know more 'bout that.  And then there's my work with the FBI...  You know, the Feline Bureau of Investigation.  Haven't had any cases lately but...  Hmmm...  Actually, I've never been assigned a case with the FBI.  MOUSES!

Truth be told, I'd be more than happy to enlighten the government peeps on my daily activities.  All they need do is ask.  Perhaps they're intimidated by the cuteness and intelligence of the general cat population.  Perhaps that's why they feel the need to spy on us rather than just askin' some questions.

And one has to wonder about the validity of the information they're gathering.  Especially when they're gatherin' information 'bout peeps.  My limited experience with peeps has been that some of 'em have a tendency to lie.  Actually, some of 'em have made lyin' a career!  Who's to say that what they're puttin' in their statuses is true?  I know that all of my friends out there always write the truth on their statuses but that's 'cause I've got honest friends.  Not everyone is equally as truthful.

One must also take into account the differences between statuses written by cats and peeps.

Do they even know how many of us are cats?  MOUSES!

You know, we cats write about totally different stuff from peeps. TOTALLY.  And if the government spies don't know it's a cat writing the status, they're bound to get confused and whatnot. Their findings are gonna be all messed up.

For example, when I mention that I'm a member of the FBI, anyone with a modicum of sense would realise that - obviously - I mean the FELINE Bureau of Investigation.  Clearly, that's the FBI to which cats belong.  But what if the government peeps get confused and think I've started workin' for the American government?  I can just hear the conversation now.  Prime Minister Harper calls up President Obama to ask, "Hey there! Tell me...  You really hirin' cats for the FBI now?"   MOUSES!

Or what about when I write about grass?  A lot of us cats enjoy munchin' on a blade of fresh green grass every now and then.  When we write 'bout stuff like that on our statuses, we're talkin' about grass growin' in the lawn or in the garden 'cause our peeps have been neglectful with their weedin' duties or sometimes, little pots of cat grass that a peep bought for us at the pet store.  WE'RE NOT TALKIN' ABOUT POT!  Okay, we might be talkin' about the flower pot in which we're growin' the grass but the actual grass really is actually grass.  Again I say...  MOUSES!

Peep #1 was noticin' a lot of ads on her Facebook timeline for legalised marijuana for a while there which she found odd 'cause she has never ever, EVER smoked it or eaten it or anythin' else like that.  Nope.  Not even once.  She's a bit naive when it comes to stuff like that.  I had to take her aside and explain how it likely had somethin' to do with all of my posts about nip and cat grass and whatnot.  You see how spyin' can get confusin' if one does not know upon which species one is spying?

And then there's the nip...

A lot of us cats post a lot of stuff about the nip.  So much, in fact, that I keep expectin' to hear some sort of announcement from the Canadian government that they're gonna look into the legalisation of the nip.  Oh yeah...  nip already IS legal.  Silly me.  Or maybe they're gonna try to apply sin taxes to catnip and start sellin' it at the liquor stores.  If they do that, I'll have to get myself some photo ID or somethin' so that I can prove my age when buyin' the nip.  And by the way, there's NOTHIN' sinful 'bout a cat enjoyin' a little nip.  Sin taxes...  MOUSES!

When Peep #1 heard about all this spyin' and whatnot, she was livid.  Not 'cause she and I have anything to hide but rather, she was annoyed that the government peeps would rather spy on me on Facebook than read my blog.  Kind of rude, if you ask me.

Everythin' anyone needs to know 'bout me can be found right here on my blog.  My adventures, my love of the nip, the stupid stuff my peeps do, my bionic knee...  It's all there.  It's all there for the readin'.

The bottom line is this.  If the Government of Canada wants to spy on me on Facebook, they're welcome to it.  It's not like I can stop 'em or anything but....

But if they're gonna spy on me they had darned well better LIKE MY FACEBOOK PAGE and FOLLOW ME ON TWITTER and READ MY BLOG while they're at it. Anything less would be rude and inconsiderate and a myriad of other things which I could list here but there are so many things it would take far too long and actually, since this is turnin' out to be one of my shorter blog posts, I'm not gonna list the whole list although, true to form, I have included one or two of my trademark run-on sentences 'cause you know...  I wouldn't wanna let anybody down.

'Nough said.  MOUSES!

savin' Easter morning

"Nip-filled eggs?  Not a bad idea there, Seville.  Remind me to work up some plans when we get home but first things first."  Nerissa turned to the rabbit and said, "Please, take us to this chocolate vault."

The rabbit led the two cats into the castle, otherwise known as Easter Bunny Headquarters.  They went through a great hall and down several flights of stairs.  Climbing further and further into the bowls of the castle, Nissy began to wonder if they would eventually reach the centre of the earth.

Finally, their downward ascent stopped and they began to walk through a long tunnel.  At the end of the tunnel, they came upon a set of large, iron gates.  Beyond the gates were the chocolate eggs meant to be delivered by the Easter Bunny on Easter morning.

The cats stared into the vault.  "That's a lot of eggs," they said in unison.

"Four billion, nine hundred and sixty-three million, two hundred and fourteen thousand, eight hundred and eleven to be exact," the rabbit informed them.

The two cats looked at one another and then back at the vault doors.  "Yup, that's a whole lot of eggs," they stated again.

Nissy sniffed around him, detecting the smell of chocolate mingling with musty air.  "You really ought to get some better ventilation down here," he suggested to the rabbit before inspecting the large lock, firmly adhered to the gate.

Seville sniffed at the lock.  "It's just a lock, Nerissa.  I think we can maybe break it off if we can't find the key.  Don't know why the rabbits didn't think of that before."

"Because the lock is magic," the rabbit informed them.   "It's a magic lock.  If anyone should attempt to open it without the proper key, the unthinkable will happen."

"The unthinkable?" asked Seville.  "What would that be?"

"Well we don't actually know...  exactly," explained the rabbit, "because it's...  it's...  Well, because it's unthinkable.  It would be very, very bad.  We NEED that key."

"Then let's get down to business," began Nissy.  "You told us that the key was either lost or stolen. Let's search the area around the vault in case it was simply misplaced.  I know that my peeps lose keys all the time.  Quite possible that the key was just dropped or something around here."

Nerissa and Seville quickly searched the area around the vault doors as well as up and down the tunnel but to no avail.  There wasn't a trace of a key to be found anywhere and Nissy began to wonder if the Easter Bunny had been wrong to entrust him with the task of saving Easter morning. Leaning back against the tunnel wall, he let out a long sigh.

Nissy's sigh turned into a cry as the wall upon which he was leaning gave way and he found himself tumbling backwards into another tunnel.

Seville immediately came to his brother's rescue, helping him up onto his four paws again.  "You okay there, Nissy?" he asked.

"I'm fine Sivvers but look at this.  It's some sort of secret tunnel that branches off the main one.  Did you know about this?" he asked the rabbit.

"I had no idea this was here."  The rabbit squinted, trying to peer down the tunnel.  "There's no lighting in there. No self-respecting rabbit would ever use it."

Sure enough, unlike the main tunnel which had been lined with brightly burning torches, the walls of this secondary tunnel were bare.  As cats, Nerissa and Seville could see easily enough with only the little light that bled in from the main tunnel but other species would have far more difficulty.

"You stay there," Nerissa instructed the rabbit, "while Seville and I investigate further."

The two cats quietly padded down the secondary tunnel, making their way around chocolate eggs scattered here and there on the floor.  Eventually, Seville came upon a small piece of paper.  "Look at this," he said to Nerissa.  "Appears to have been torn from a notebook or something.  There are some numbers scribbled on it and it's covered in stains."

Nissy snatched the paper from his brother's paw and gave it a sniff.  "Hmmm..   It smells of chocolate.  The stains on this note are melted chocolate.  Sivvers, you found a clue!"

The cats continued along at a faster pace.  They were in hot pursuit of the missing key and their excitement was mounting.  The tunnel took a sharp turn and they found themselves standing before a wooden door.

Nissy pawed at the door knob and the door opened, inwardly with a creak, revealing a small office barely large enough to house the wooden desk and chair, inside.

Nissy jumped up onto the desk to inspect a large book that had been left open.  "This book is all about commodity prices," he told his brother.  "It's open to a chapter about the commodity pricing of cocoa.  And just look at this!" and he pointed to the iron key resting gently inside the book.

"Never mind that.  Take a look at the portrait hanging on the wall," Seville suggested to Nerissa. "That egg look familiar to you?"

"Do you know what this means?" Nerissa said to his brother.  "That egg who goes by the name of Mr. Egg Sackly has stolen the key to the chocolate vault himself in an attempt to manipulate the world commodity prices of cocoa.  And he did so right underneath the Easter Bunny's nose!  The audacity of that egg.  Can you believe it?"

"What an egghead," piped in Seville.

"And just who are you calling an egghead?"

The cats turned toward the door to see Egg Sackly standing there, blocking their path out of the office.  The egg had an evil grin on his face.

"I see you've discovered my plans, you two little meddling furballs.  How dare you waltz into my private domain."

"How dare we..." sputtered Nerissa.   "How dare you attempt to ruin Easter morning for children all around the world."

"For generations," rambled on Sackly, "Easter Bunnies have been delivering chocolate eggs to children, belittling the perfection of my ancestry.  The perfection that is the egg.  My namesake.  My very being.  And every year, those rabbits get all the glory for hopping around the world, delivering wonderful, beautiful eggs.  Well it's high time that we eggs see some benefits from Easter morning.  If we can't have the glory, we can at least make a profit from it."  The egg began to prance around the small office which, for an egg with no legs, was quite a feat.

Seeing an opportunity to escape, Nerissa wrapped his mouth around the iron key and at the very same time he yelled, "RUN!" to his brother.  The two cats headed down the secondary tunnel at top speed with Egg Sackly rolling in hot pursuit behind them.

The boys ran as fast as their paws would carry them, skidding into the main tunnel and coming to a halt as they slammed against the tunnel wall.  Moments later, Egg Sackly hit the same wall with a loud, resounding crack.

"Ewwww...." Nissy cringed.

"Yup, that's gotta hurt," agreed Seville.

Nerissa handed over the iron key to the chocolate vault to the rabbit before he and Seville explained all they had discovered in Egg Sackly's office.

"We'll get him the help he needs," the rabbit told the cats.  "Tsk, tsk, tsk..."  the rabbit muttered. "Imagine thinking he could get away with such a thing.  Just wait until the Easter Bunny hears about this."

As Egg Sackly was being carted off to hospital Nerissa, Seville and the rabbit made their way out of the tunnel, through the castle's great hall and into the sunshine.  Nerissa sniffed the fresh air and revelled in the warmth of the sun, caressing his nose.  Seville took a swipe at a butterfly that dared to fly a little too close to him but thankfully for the butterfly, he missed.

The Easter Bunny is ever-so-grateful for all your assistance today, a rabbit informed the two cats. "He says that the two of you really saved Easter morning for children all around the world and wanted me to give you this giant chocolate egg for your Peep #1.  She's a little too old to be having the Easter Bunny stop by on Easter morning but he remembers that she always did love her chocolate."

"Did?  Did you say did?  As in past tense?" asked Seville incredulously.  "Ol' Peepers is still currently a true fiend of the chocolate."

"Yeah, I think the Easter Bunny probably knows that, Seville," Nerissa informed his brother before turning back to the rabbit.  "We will be very pleased to accept this giant chocolate egg and I'm sure the Easter Bunny will understand how Seville and I will have to tell the peep that it's from us cats. Peep #1 has been cracking down on our teleportin' as we seem to have had a few uh...  ummm..."

"We've been gettin' into a lot trouble teleportin' around the world and messin' stuff up, is what Nerissa is trying to say," Seville blurted out.  "Honestly, I don't see what the trouble is.  So we messed up the space-time continuum a few times..."

"Anywho..." interrupted Nerissa. "SIVVERS....  PREPARE THE TELEPORTATION DEVICE," he cried and with that, the boys climbed into their flying frying pan with the giant chocolate egg nestled between them.

"As long as this egg really is made of chocolate and doesn't sprout arms and a desire to take over the world cocoa commodities market," Nerissa muttered.  "As long as it's just a plain ol' chocolate egg, the peep should be pretty pleased with what we've brought her, Seville.  Pleased enough to ignore the fact that we've been teleportin' again."

The two cats stared at the giant egg for a moment.

"Yeah, I think it's okay," stated Seville.  "It smells like chocolate to me."

a request for assistance

Nissy raced into the kitchen.  The toaster transporter was dinging incessantly and he knew there must be an urgent message awaiting him. Skidding to a halt and hopping up onto the counter, he peered into the toaster.

"Yeah, would you mind answering that toaster?" Seville asked.  "The dinging is annoying.  It's disturbing my nap."

Nissy glanced over his shoulder to see his marmalade brother curled up on a kitchen chair.  Obviously, Seville had not considered to get up himself to see what message was coming through. Nissy watched as his brother let out a giant yawn, closed his eyes once more and fell back asleep.

Scattered around the toaster were several hard-boiled eggs, each painted with the letters S, O and S.  Another ding coughed up a couple more.  Clearly, someone was in trouble and needing his help.

A loud explosion in the back yard startled Seville, awakening him from his nap so violently that it caused him to jump straight up into the air and hit his head on the ceiling.  "For crying out loud!" he cried.

Nissy looked out the kitchen window.  The sky had darkened and the air had become hazy.  A pinprick of light appeared out of nowhere and from it, time waves began to emanate.  This anomaly was going to require immediate investigation.

Venturing outside, Nissy cautiously approached the disturbance in the space-time continuum. "What the mouses is that?" he asked Seville who had followed him outside and was now sitting beside him.  "MOUSES!  I've never seen anything like it.  Have you?"

The two cats watched as hundreds of butterflies began to fly out of the vortex.  Never before had a vortex created a butterfly effect.  Whoever had opened it was certainly not using egg beater-whisk time travelling-teleportation technology.  Some other kind of technology was at work here.

Mesmerised, the cats sat there, watching the butterflies flit this way and that.  Seville swatted a couple with a paw but they escaped, unscathed.  Moments later, there was a loud thud and out of the vortex rolled a giant painted egg.  The egg righted itself and out popped two arms.  As it came to life, a face appeared.

"MOUSES!" cried the cats in unison.

"Hello there.  Egg Sackly is the name," and the giant egg reached toward Nissy to shake his paw.  "You must be Nerissa the Cat.  Very pleased to meet you."  Turning to Seville he said, "and I assume you are the brother, Seville?"

The cats stared at Mr. Sackly in disbelief.

"You're probably wondering about my unexpected visit.  We've been sending messages to you all morning but your toaster transporter appears to be malfunctioning."

"Those eggs were from you?" Nissy asked.

"Ah, so you did get my messages.  Never thought to reply?" and the egg sighed loudly.

"Sorry 'bout that," explained Nissy.  "Only got the messages a few minutes ago and I didn't know from whom they were coming.  Please tell me what's going on and how I can help."

"We're facing a major catastrophe over at Easter Bunny Headquarters.  If the matter isn't resolved within the next few days, Easter morning egg deliveries will be in jeopardy.  In fact, they already are. This matter needs to be attended to urgently and the top bun felt you were the only cats for the job."

"You mean that the Easter Bunny himself has requested our assistance?" Seville asked, incredulously.

"He most certainly has although," and the egg cleared his throat, "he really requested the assistance of Nerissa the Cat but is aware that the marmalade side kick is part of the bargain."

"SIDE KICK!  Of all the nerve," sputtered Seville.  "I'll show you a kick," and he raised a hind leg. Thinking this might be going a little far, Seville lowered his leg before peering under Egg Sackly. "Ummm...  by the way, how come you don't have any legs?" he asked the egg.

"I'm an egg.  Eggs don't have legs," he answered.  Turning back to Nerissa the egg instructed, "You'll need to follow me back through the vortex.  Prepare to duck and roll."

Nissy peered into the vortex, narrowing his eyes.  "Yeah, I don't think we're gonna do the ol' ducking and rolling bit.  We have our own mode of transport.  SIVVERS," and he turned to his brother, "PREPARE THE TELEPORTATION DEVICE."

Moments later, the two cats and Mr. Egg Sackly were hurtling through space and time, heading towards Easter Bunny Headquarters.

"Can't this flying frying pan contraption go any faster," cried the egg?  "Time is of the essence.  Easter is at stake!"

"Faster?  You want to go faster?" asked Seville.  "I have the whisks whisking full blast.  We're travelling forward in space but backwards in time.  We'll arrive before you even left.  Gosh," he turned to Nerissa and hissed, "Eggs sure are impatient."

"And I think this one is a little soft in the centre," Nissy muttered under his breath.  "He seems to have forgotten just who is doin' whom the favours around here.  On the other paw, he might be feelin' a little nervous about bein' in...  well...  you know...  'Bout bein' in a fryin' pan, if you know what I mean.  I'm hopin' we'll get some better Intel once we can speak to an actual bunny."

Landing gently in a grassy field, the cats and egg climbed out of the frying pan teleportation device. Nissy had to admit that Egg Sackly was looking mightily relieved to be on solid ground, once more.

Nerissa looked around.  There were painted eggs scattered everywhere.  Scattered around like wild flowers growing amidst the grass.  Multitudes of butterflies danced in the air and Seville took another swipe at one.  It flew off, only to replaced by several others.   Off in the distance, loomed an ancient castle.  Nissy wondered if that castle was the Easter Bunny's Headquarters.

A small white rabbit approached them, hopping through the painted eggs.  "Nerissa?  Nerissa the Cat?  Thank goodness you are here!" the bunny exclaimed.

"Ummm...  are you the Easter Bunny?" Nissy asked.

"Goodness no!  But I do work here at Bunny Headquarters.  We have a real problem on our paws," stated the rabbit.  "Our only key to the chocolate vault has been either lost or stolen and without it, we can't access the goodies needed for Easter morning deliveries.  Millions of children around the world are eagerly awaiting Easter morning and without that key, we'll let them all down."

"But there are eggs all over the place," interrupted Seville, batting at one between his two front paws. "They're everywhere.  Just look at them all."

"That's just a drop in the bucket," explained the rabbit.  "We need far more than that.  We anticipate requiring approximately four billion, nine hundred and sixty-three million, two hundred and fourteen thousand, eight hundred and eleven chocolate eggs for Easter morning.  Also, seven million, eight hundred and sixty-two thousand, five hundred and forty..."

"Did you say, billion?" sputtered Seville.

"Did you say, approximately?" asked Nerissa.

"The point is," continued the rabbit, "we need access to that vault.  Nerissa, your reputation precedes you.  Only you and your brother are capable of returning that key to us.  Are you willing to accept this assignment?

Smiling broadly, Nerissa was just about to answer with a resounding yes when he was distracted by the sound of eggs cracking as Seville managed to smash two of them together.

"What?" asked Seville looking up, innocently.  "And by the way, have you ever thought of filling these things with nip?"


Be sure to return on Sunday April 20th for part two of the cats' Easter adventure.