talk about scary!

Talk about scary.

MOUSES!

I know, I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin' if I'm talking 'bout scary stuff, I surely must be talking 'bout Hallowe'en.

And you know what?

YOU'RE RIGHT!

Kinda.

Sorta.

Whatever.

Okay, so Hallowe'en IS tomorrow and it would be wrong for me to not say something 'bout that.  I mean, Hallowe'en comes but once a year, right?  To not give it a mention at all would be a huge omission on my party.

So...

So, yeah, tomorrow is Hallowe'en and there will be ghosties and goblins runnin' about; not to mention all the kiddies out there dressed up as that incredibly dashing marmalade cat named Seville.

As if they could possibly dress up to look as handsome as me.

MOUSES!

But anyway, like I said, tomorrow is Hallowe'en and I'm bettin' all my pals out there are gonna want to re-read some of my Hallowe'en stories...  I mean, REAL LIFE ADVENTURES that happened on Hallowe'ens past, so...

So...

SO...

So just click on the titles of each of the followin' REAL LIFE ADVENTURES and you'll get to read all about 'em:  the broom closet; a Hallowe'en adventure; and now, the conclusion; the Hallowe'en visitor; the Hallowe'en ball; the contest; and finally, the haunting.

But in the meantime, let me tell you what's REALLY scary.  Really, really, REALLY scary.  Way scarier than anythin' Hallowe'en might bring.

No, not Peepers' hair.

On the other paw, Peepers' hair IS super scary but believe it or not - and I know this will be extremely difficult to fathom - there's somethin' even scarier than that.

No, really.  I kid you not!

So let me tell you all 'bout it.  Once again, the Internet was givin' me grief and Peepers had to set up a new modem Friday night only to find out...  I mean, ONLY TO BE REMINDED how much of an utter technological nincompoop she is.  She was so beside herself, she was practically pullin' out her own hair!

Hmmm....  Wonder if that's why Peepers' hair is as scary lookin' as it is.

MOUSES!

But anyway....

But anyway, two hours down the drain Friday night, AND ANOTHER FOUR OR FIVE HOURS yesterday mornin' and early afternoon, and...

And we finally have an Internet connection once more.

The woman is almost bald now, and that's not at all pleasant for me to see, but at least my Internet connection is up and runnin'.

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

You did too.  I saw you.  You did too pull out several of your hairs outta frustration.

Oh go stick a sock in it, woman.  Here's a couple Toonies.  Go buy yourself a nice wig.

You can even shop for it on-line.

Now.

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.

'twas the post before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas...

Nah, that's not right.  Christmas isn't 'til Saturday and today is just Wednesday.

MOUSES!

'Twas the POST before Christmas, and all through the house...

...not a creature was stirrin',

NOT EVEN A MOUSE!

The mousies were hung by the chimney with care...

...which is why they weren't stirrin',

And kept outta my hair.

I mean fur, of course.

MOUSES!

The peeps were nestled all snug in their beds while visions of sugar plums...

Nah, that's not right, either.  I don't think Peepers has ever dreamt of sugar plums.  She's more a dreamin' of peach cobbler kinda gal, for sure.

I don't even know if she knows what a sugar plum is.

MOUSES!

And Mama in her 'kerchief, and I in my...

Okay, that right there has gotta make this little poem come to an end.  If I were to see Peepers with a hankie wrapped 'round her head, I'd be thinkin' she'd gone 'round the bend!

And me wearin' a cap?  A CAP?  I don't wear no caps, 'cause I, Seville the Cat, am a cat, and cats don't wear no stupid caps.

Need I say it?

MOUSES!

So enough with my failed attempt at poetry.

MOUSES!

Here's the thing: Christmas is right 'round the corner and I've got my paws filled with wrappin' prezzies...

I mean, UNwrappin' prezzies.

I MEAN, playin' with the wrappin' paper when Peepers isn't about.

THING IS, I've got my paws busy doin' stuff I should or should not be doin'.

Yeah, that's about right.

BUT I KNOW peeps and cats...

Dogs, too, of course.

...out there are gonna wanna reread some of my Christmas adventures from years past, so...

So...

So I'm gonna paw over all the links for all those adventures right here in this here blog post, puttin' them all in one place, nice and convenient like for your purrsonal purrusal.

And if I don't see you between now and Christmas...

Here are those links I told you 'bout.

2014:  The Naughty List

2015:  The Mysterious Christmas Ornament

2016:  Reindeer Dust

2016:  Seville Saves Christmas

2017:  Santa's Mail Train

2017:  Mason to the Rescue

2017:  The Shelf Elf

2018:  'Twas the Night Before Christmas

2019:  The Santa Sack, part I

2019:  The Santa Sack, part II

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

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.

top of the mornin'

Top of the mornin' to ya, my friends.  TOP OF THE MORNIN'!

HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY!!!

I'd give you a nice big bouquet of shamrocks or somethin' for the the occasion, but...

Well...

You know, the ground's still covered in snow.

MOUSES!

But the sun is shinin' so it looks like it's gonna be a really nice day.

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, I was thinking 'bout spring bein' almost upon us and stuff like that, and I was wonderin'...

I was wonderin' if it might be time to pull the ol' pots of catnip out of the garage.

But then I remembered...

Ground's still covered in snow.

MOUSES!

Life sure is tough when you're a cat.

MOUSES!

But then I saw that ol' Peepers has some of those fancy shmancy lights for growin' stuff.

Well truth be told, they're not all that fancy.  She got 'em from Amazon.  Cheap.

MOUSES!

And they're certainly not shmancy...  YET.

What?  Shmancy doesn't mean smashed?

MOUSES!

But why the mouses should those lights be used for stupid ol' peeper...  I mean, PEPPER plants?  WHY?  I, Seville the Cat, am a cat - obviously - and I don't eat no peepers.  I mean, PEPPERS, you see.

Yeah, yeah...  Double negative.  I know.

MOUSES!

But my point is, as a cat, peppers are of no use to me.

Peepers, on the other paw, is good for openin' tins and stuff.

AND SINCE THOSE PEPPER PLANTS ARE OF NO USE, knocking 'em off the table would be an appropriate thing to do.  Some might even say, HELPFUL.

You know, to make room for pots of the nip.

So...

SO I'M THINKIN' that's exactly what I'm gonna do.

MOUSES!

PS.  Due to the this ol' pandemic thing and travel restrictions and stuff, I couldn't have a St. Patrick's Day adventure this year.  As a Canadian kitty, I couldn't go to Ireland.  And leprechauns and fairies couldn't come to me!  The Canadian Government even sent some kinda official to the front door tellin' me to hand over the keys to my teleportation device.  Can you believe it?  Yeah, neither could I.  EVERYONE KNOWS my flyin' fryin' pan teleportation device doesn't use keys.  MOUSES!  But what I can do is share the links to some of my adventures from years past.  Just click on the name of the adventure and enjoy.  PURRS 

2018 St. Patrick's Day adventure:  The Infestation

2016 St. Patrick's Day adventure:  Finders Keepers...  Maybe

2015 St. Patrick's Day adventure:  Catnip and Fairy Dust

2014 St. Patrick's Day adventure:  Seville's Four-leaved Clovers

AND FINALLY....

HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY!

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

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.

Christmas Eve, Eve

 

Oohhh boy - *rubs front paws together with glee* - only two more days 'til Christmas.  Today is Christmas Eve, Eve

MOUSES!

That's right, only two days left before the Big Guy in Red stops by my house with nip mice and treats.

I CAN'T WAIT!

Okay, so I actually can.  Wait, I mean.  It's not like I have a choice, anyway.  The calendar is what it is, and Christmas is still two days away.

MOUSES!

This Christmas is gonna be different from others, for sure.  Due to COVID travel restrictions, I haven't been able to use my teleportation device, so this year there are no Christmas adventures for me.  I did consider firin' up the ol' flyin' fryin' pan anyway and flyin' right past the border patrols and stuff, but...

BUT IT WOULD BE WRONG.

So I didn't.

MOUSES!

I also briefly considered doin' a little time-travellin' and travellin' back in time to a pre-pandemic world, but...

BUT THAT WOULD BE WRONG, TOO.

So I didn't.

Didn't wanna risk startin' a pandemic up in some other time.  Can you IMAGINE bein' responsible for somethin' like that?  My gosh, I'd end up on Santa's naughty list for eternity, never to see the Big Guy in Red, again.

MOUSES!

I did get to chat with some birdies this mornin'.  Yup, chatted with a couple blue jays emptying out the feeder Peepers filled earlier today.  They're not travellin' anywhere for Christmas, either.  Why would they?  They've got the peep wrapped 'round their little feet, fillin' up feeders for 'em and cleanin' up the messes they leave behind.

Oh, you should have seen 'em today.  TWO blue jays perched on either side of a feeder not meant for birds the size of blue jays, at all, treatin' it like a seesaw or somethin' and dumpin' all the bird seed out.

That, too, IS WRONG, but hey, I'M not arguin' with a couple squawky jays.

MOUSES!

So this year, besides those blue jays who are stickin' around, I'll be spendin' Christmas at home and all alone...

Well with the peeps, I suppose, but I won't be cavorting with Rudolf or Santa or any elves...

Which is a good thing, in a way, 'cause let me tell ya, ELVES CAN GET AWFULLY CRANKY AT THIS TIME OF YEAR.

It's the stress of havin' to make all those toys on a tight deadline and then havin' to wrap 'em all up.

MOUSES!

But even though I have no adventures on the go on account of my STAYIN' THE BLAZES HOME just like Premier McNeil says we should do, I can always share some Christmas adventures from years, past.  Right?  RIGHT.

MOUSES!

So here you are, my friends.  Here are some of my adventures from the many Christmases that have come before.  ENJOY!

The Santa Sack, part I, and The Santa Sack, part II, 2019

'Twas the Night Before Christmas, 2018

 The Shelf Elf, 2017

Santa's Mail Train and Mason to the Rescue, 2017

Reindeer Dust and Seville Saves Christmas, 2016

The Mysterious Ornament, 2015

The Naughty List, 2014

Home in Time for Christmas, 2013

MERRY CHRISTMAS, MY FRIENDS.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!

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

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.

whoa, nelly!

Whoa, Nelly!  WHOA, NELLY!!!  There are some things a kitty can never unsee.

MOUSES!

What the mouses are you doin' there, Peepers?  You wanna terrorise the kiddies, this Hallowe'en?

What do you mean, what do you mean?  WHAT DO YOU MEAN?

But I thought...

But it seemed...

I was so sure.

Gosh golly and darn it, a kitty sees his peep first thing in the mornin' before she's combed her hair and washed her face, and the next thing you know, SAID KITTY IS GETTIN' IN TROUBLE FOR THINKIN' THE UNCOMBED AND UNWASHED FRIGHTENIN' MESS BEFORE HIM IS A HALLOWE'EN COSTUME.

MOUSES!

And to be fair, she did look super scary.

So Hallowe'en is comin' up this weekend and it's lookin' like it's gonna be a lot different from other years, for sure.  For one thing, peeps have been wearin' masks for the last few months, so puttin' on a Hallowe'en mask is gonna be like...

Well...

Like your normal day when grocery shoppin'.

MOUSES!

Although truth be told, perhaps had Peepers been wearin' a mask this mornin', she wouldn't have scared me half to death when I saw her.

Good thing the litter box was nearby.

MOUSES!

And speakin' of litter boxes...

Not MY fault what I deposited in it is frightening.

But alas, my friends, I'm afraid there's no Hallowe'en adventure this year on account of flyin' fryin' pan and teleportation - not to mention broomstick - travel restrictions.  Plus, with social distancin' and limits on gatherings, the Weasel Syndicate's activities have been placed on hold for the mo.  Of course, this is a good thing, even if a little boring, so...

So...

SO...

So I thought to myself, what better way to enjoy Hallowe'en than by readin' some of my Hallowe'en adventures from Hallowe'ens past?

Did you know they say that if you say Hallowe'en three times in a row, somethin' super scary and grotesque will appear?

At least that's what I've heard.

*looks about*

Guess it's not true though.  Must be nothin' more than some kinda urban legend.

AAARGH!!!

Sorry 'bout that.  It was just Peepers walkin' into the room.

MOUSES!

But back to the topic at paw: my past Hallowe'en adventures.  I'm includin' the links to adventures of Hallowe'ens past, so feel free to pull up a chair and click on a link, and you'll be magically transported to a frightfully fun-filled Hallowe'en adventure.

Oh-oh.  I just said Hallowe'en three times again.  Bet Peepers will be walkin' back into the room any time now.

MOUSES!

2019:  The Haunting

2018:  The Contest

2017:  The Hallowe'en Ball

2016:  The Hallowe'en Visitor

2015:  A Hallowe'en Adventure and And Now, the Conclusion

2014:  The Broom Closet

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

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.

the Santa Sack, part II

Previously on Nerissa's Life:  Seville leaned his head out of the phone booth.  "You three had better take my lantern and start lookin' for some more quarters.  This call might take a while.  Some stupid elf went and put me on hold.  MOUSES!"

Your call is important to us.  Please stay on the line to maintain your calling sequence priority.

"Oh for mousin' out loud," Seville groaned.  "This is ridiculous.  I wonder if...  Hmmm..." and he began to punch random numbers on the telephone keypad.

You have dialed an incorrect number.  Please try again.  You have dialed an incorrect number.  Please try again.  You have have dialed...

"Then how 'bout this?" and Seville dialed a seven.

"Can you hold on for a minute?" a high-pitched voice asked.  "Do you mind if I put you on hold?"

"NO!" Seville hollered, but the elf on the other end of the line had already gone.  He dialed seven again, and when the elf picked up the phone this time, Seville yelled, "DON'T PUT ME ON HOLD!"

Seville could hear a lot of noise in the background.  Basic background chatter.  Elves muttering about something being wrong.  Bells frantically ringing.  Elves scolding one another.  More bells ringing, more frantically than before.  Rudolf asking someone - probably an elf - if they could help him practise his pre-flight sequence.  EVEN MORE ringing bells, ringing EVEN MORE frantically than ever.  He could picture utter chaos up at the North Pole: parcels backing up on conveyor belts and bells indicating impending parcel backup disasters.  And then above all the noise and commotion; above all the accusatory elf voices and ringing bells; above all the chaos currently taking place at the North Pole, Seville heard...

"WELL YOU DON'T HAVE TO YELL.  Let me put you on hold."

Seville was sure he felt hot steam pouring out of his ears, and he punched in a zero followed by the star symbol, then the number sign, and then three nines.

"How did you get this number?" a deep voice half growled, half chuckled, on the other end of the line.

"Santa, is that you?"

"Seville, is that YOU?"

"YES!" Seville squealed, high-fiving the air.  "Oh thank goodness, I thought I'd never get through to you.  Your elves kept putting me on hold."

"Well they're mighty busy down in the workshop, right now.  To tell you a secret, we've hit a bit of a holiday snafu.  Nothing we can't clear up by Christmas Eve though, Seville.  Don't you worry, you'll definitely get those nip mice you asked for this year."

Seville paused, unsure how to broach the subject of not only his firstpaw knowledge of Santa's workshop problems, but also the fact he appeared to be in possession of Santa's magical sack, which was, he was sure, in fact Santa's workshop problem.

"Ummm...  Santa?  The problems you're havin' up at the North Pole..."  He pawed at the floor of the telephone booth.  "Those problems...  Do they have anythin' to do with your magical Santa sack bein' missin'?"

Santa didn't respond.

"It IS missin', isn't it," Seville continued.  He wasn't asking a question; just wanting confirmation.

"How do you know about my missing Santa sack, Seville?"

"Well uh...  Um...." and Seville proceeded to tell Santa all about the Santa suit he had ordered from some dude on e-Bay, and how it came with a sack - as expected - but that the sack was magic and now he and his three fur-sibs were trapped inside.

Seville could hear a clock ticking in the background.  Likely the clock Santa kept on his desk.  He remembered it from the picture he had taken of Santa in his office one year while visiting.

After what felt like an eternity, Santa spoke up.  "You've got yourself into a right pickle there, Seville, haven't you."  Again, not a question.  Santa was stating an obvious fact.

"I have," sighed Seville.  "My fur-sibs and I don't know how to get out of this here sack AND we don't know how to get the sack back to you in time for Christmas.  Have you got any ideas how to go 'bout doin' those things?"

Santa chuckled, "Luckily for you, little one, I do.  Now that I know where my sack is, resolving the issues..."

Seville heard a loud crash on the other end of the line.  The mountain of gifts that had been piling up at the end of the conveyor belt instead of being put into Santa's magical sack had collapsed under their own weight.  He knew the noise must have been extremely loud to be heard all the way into Santa's office.

"Er-hm...  Don't worry about that, Seville.  Nothing breakable," he chuckled, nervously.  "I hope.  But as I told you, now that I know where my sack is, getting it back here is really very simple."  Santa then explained exactly what he needed Seville and his fur-sibs to do."

"So that's it?" asked Mason.  "That's all we have to do?"

Seville nodded his head up and down.  "Yup, that's what Santa said."

"It sounds too good to be true," Mason scowled, "like your on-line ordering habits do."

Seville stuck his tongue out at his sister, then, remembering Christmas was almost upon them and that kitties who stuck their tongues out at their fur-sibs might land themselves on the Naughty List, he smiled, which only made him look like a grinning Cheshire Cat, or a kitty who might have swallowed a canary, or...  "Sorry, Mason," he muttered.

The four cats then held paws, closed their eyes, and as Santa had instructed Seville, they all thought as hard as they could about needing a map to the secret escape hatch.  Seville was the first to open his eyes.  There on the floor, in the middle of the circle the cats had formed, was a map, and on that map a large letter 'X' marked the spot.  "We've got it!" he squealed with delight, snatching it up with a paw.

"I'll take that," said Mason, grabbing the map from her brother.  "It looks like we need to head that way."

How Mason was able to navigate the map was beyond Seville.  To him, it had looked like nothing more than...  Than a blank piece of paper with two locations, but with nothing to show which way was up or down, or left or right, or...

"Are you boys coming or not?" Mason asked impatiently.

"Yes, Mason," they murmured in unison.

Before long, the four cats found what appeared to be a large trap door.  Mason grabbed hold of the handle and tried to pull.  "I could use a little help here, boys," she said, so Seville got hold of Mason's tail, and Rushy held onto his, with Andy holding onto Rushton's.  "One, two, three, PULL!" Mason cried, and this time, the trap door opened with ease.  The cats all looked down into the hole below, but saw nothing but darkness.

"I thought you said this was the way out," Rushy said to Seville.  "It looks like here, except it's...  There."  Mason and Andy nodded in agreement.

"Santa said this was the way out," Seville told his fur-sibs, "and if you can't trust Santa, who can you trust?  MOUSES!"  He took Rushton's paw in one of his, and Mason's in the other, and instructed Andy to hold paws with Rushy, and together, the four cats jumped into the abyss.

"Ooof!"

"Argh!"

"Watch where you're putting that tail."

"Was that your nose I whacked, Mason?"

"Oh for mousin' out loud..."

Moments later, the four cats tumbled out onto their living room floor with the Santa sack lying flat on the ground beside them.  Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer was waiting for them, just as Santa had told Seville he would be.  "Everyone out?" he asked the cats.

Seville looked about and seeing Mason, Rushy, and Andy all grooming themselves, attempting to make it look like they had INTENDED to come clumsily tumbling out of the sack as they had, all along, he nodded.  "All here."

"I'll be on my way then," said Rudolf, grabbing onto the sack.  "Need to get this back to the North Pole, ASAP.  Let me tell you, Little Jackson is going to be on the Naughty List for the next fifty years after selling you this sack."

"Little Jackson?" asked Seville.  "You mean Jack F. from E-Bay?"

Rudolf nodded, "Jack Frost's great, great grandson.  No...  Great, great, GREAT grandson.  He's a bit of a rascal, as they say.  Far worse than his great great great grandfather ever was."

Rudolf turned to leave but Seville had one more question.  "Rudolf, how come the sack even has a built-in escape hatch?"  Seville thought he saw a blush creep across Rudolf's face, although it IS hard to tell when a reindeer with a bright red nose is blushing.

"Way back when, when I was a very young reindeer, I managed to get myself stuck in that sack," Rudolf explained, pawing at the floor with a hoof.  "It was humiliating.  After that, Santa asked Mrs Claus to sew in a pocket on the sack to be used as an escape route if anyone else should get trapped inside."

Seville could tell Rudolf was embarrassed about having been caught in the Santa sack, so he slapped the reindeer on the back in a friendly manner and smiled.  "Well I, for one, am pretty darned happy that happened to you back then.  Had it not, Mrs Claus would never have sewn in that pocket and my fur-sibs and I would still be trapped in that there sack.  That escape hatch sure did save our furry tails today."

Rudolf smiled back.  "Merry Christmas, you four," he said, before heading out the front door.  "See you Christmas Eve!" and with that, he took flight.

"Merry Christmas!" Seville, Mason, Rushy, and Andy cried, waving to Rudolf as he flew higher and higher into the air, finally disappearing out of sight.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

and now, the conclusion

Previously, on Nerissa's Life:

I went over to the armoire again, and leaned up against the wall behind it.  Closing one eye, I attempted to peer between the chunky piece of furniture and the wall.  Oops!  Wrong eye.  Hehehe...  My bad.  But never one to give up, I closed the other eye and took another peek.  What I saw made me stagger backwards in shock.  Turning around, my mouth hanging open, I said to my brother, "Rushy, you're not gonna believe what's goin' on back there.  MOUSES!"


"Let ME see," and Rushy barged forward, pushing me aside.

I held him back by his tail.  "It's probably better that I just tell you.  Back there, in the wee little space between the armoire and the wall, is my ball of yarn and all that fur you were tellin' me about from your bein' combed last night, and..."

"Well how did my fur get back there?  Who put it back there?  Did YOU put my fur back there, Seville?"

"NO.  Why would I do that?  And why would I put my ball of yarn back there?  I was lookin' for that, too, you know.  But hang on, there's more."

Rushy waited with bated breath.  Scratch that.  Rushy waited with bated, fishy-smelling breath.  Prior to comin' into the family room, he had obviously been into the tuna.  MOUSES!

"There are a couple of garden fairies back there, too, Rushton," I explained.  "That's right, two garden fairies sitting there, doin' some kind of needlework or somethin' like that."

Rushton looked confused which, to be honest, is not an unusual look for him.  "Let me see," and he pushed me aside again, this time making his way over to the armoire.  He reached his right paw into the space behind the piece of furniture and the wall, and when he withdrew it, dangling from one claw was one of the fairies.

"Put me down!  PUT ME DOWN!" she squealed with the squeaky voice of a mouse.  "You put me down right this minute."

I peered at the fairy as she angrily danced in midair.  "What were doing back there?" I asked her.

"Preparing for winter," she said.  "What did you think we were doing?  And are you --"  she was looking at Rushton, now -- "going to let go of my wings?  You'll damage them, you big long-haired brute."

"Sorry," Rushton murmured, sounding a little ashamed.  He set the fairy down on the floor.  "But why did you steal Seville's ball of yarn, and the peep's laundry, and why-oh-WHY did you steal all of my fur?"

"It's not like you were using it," the fairy grumbled.  "We only took what your human combed out of your coat."

I held a paw up before Rushton started to protest about his wanting to keep that lump of fur I knew full well the peep planned to throw out.

"But why?" I asked the fairy again.  "WHY are you back there with our stuff?  And why did you cut all those holes out of the peep's top?"

"We needed bed sheets," was her reply.

Rushton and I looked at one another, dumbfounded.

"Bed sheets?" I asked.

"Yes, bed sheets.  And blankets, too.  That's why we needed your ball of yarn.  My sister and I have blankets to knit.  And as for your loose fur," and she looked pointedly at my brother, "it makes for quite good insulation."

I shook my head to clear it.  "What?  Why?  I don't understand."

"Of course you don't," snapped the fairy.  "You cats and your humans NEVER understand.  You meddle in the affairs of others, never thinking about the damage you're doing."

"But I..."

"Don't interrupt," the fairy scolded me.  "We fairies were perfectly happy living in nooks and hollows in old trees in forests and gardens, moving underground when winter approached.  But humans couldn't allow that.  OH NO, humans had to go around putting out fairy houses and building entire fairy villages all over the forest floor, luring us into them with the promise of pretty surroundings, and..."

"But I..."

"I said, DON'T interrupt," and she scolded me again.  "NOW, there are fairies living in gardens all over the place, in houses with absolutely no protection against the cold.  Those houses the humans built for us are made out of ceramic, for goodness sake.  Do you have any idea how cold ceramic gets in the dead of a Canadian winter?"

I opened my mouth to answer, thought better of it, and closed it again.

"If my sister and I don't get these bed sheets and blankets made in the next couple weeks, we'll freeze our little wings off out there."

The fairy paused, and I waited for her to continue.  When she didn't, I spoke up.

"Well... Well what if you were to just move back into your little underground hollows and stuff for the winter?"

"AND GIVE UP OUR LUXURY MULTI-BEDROOM FAIRY HOUSES WITH THEIR WHITE PICKET FENCES, GARDEN POOLS AND SWINGS?" she hollered.

I looked over at my brother, Rushton, who was furiously diggin' at his long fur, yankin' clumps out here and there; pretty much everywhere.  "You had better get that ball of forest green yarn out of the peep's knitting bag," he told me.  "The one you thought I might like.  Go get it and paw it over to her, pronto."

As I passed Rushy on my way over to the knitting bag, he hissed in my ear, "The only way to get rid of fairies is to give them what they want.  I'll give her more loose fur, you give her another ball of yarn, and later on, we'll find some more of the peep's cotton laundry."

Of course, my brother was right.  If there's one thing I know, it's that the best way of gettin' rid of unwanted fairies is by meeting their demands.

MOUSES!

the fairy tale

I sat back on my haunches and looked about the room.  "It's the weirdest thing," I said to myself.  "I know I left that ball of yarn out here last night.  I KNOW it!"  I peered under both the chesterfield and its matching chair, thinking the yarn might have rolled - or been kicked - under one of them by mistake but no, there was no sign of it under either one.  "PEEPERS," I called out.  "Have you seen..."

"The peep is busy upstairs looking for something."  It was my brother Rushton who answered my call.

"Is she looking for my ball of yarn?" I asked, hopefully.

"No," Rushy answered.  "She's muttering about some of the laundry she did yesterday having gone missing, and I doubt she laundered your ball of yarn.  And since when did YOU get a ball of yarn, anyway?"

"Since I took one out of the peep's knitting bag," I replied.  "Thing is though, it's gone missin'."

"Maybe Peepers found out you stole her ball of yarn and took it back.  Did you look for it in her knitting bag again?"

"Of course I did," I said with a sneer.  "Uh..." and I hesitated, "but maybe I'll a take another peek.  You know, to be sure."

Rushy rolled his eyes, obviously not believin' me.  MOUSES!

"Nope, not here," and I pulled my head out of the knitting bag.  "But there is a half ball of forest green yarn that would look really good with your fur.  You want it?"

Rushton sighed.  "I do, but I don't.  The peep says we're not allowed to play with her yarn, and I don't want to get into trouble."

"Suit yourself," I shrugged.  "But I still can't figure out where my ball of yarn went."

"When you were looking for your yarn," Rushton began, "did you happen to come across a big lump of orange-coloured fur?  That loose fur the peep got out of my coat when she combed me last night?"

"If I had, I would have left it right where I found it.  I'm not touchin' your fur."  The very thought disgusted me.  "The peep probably put it in the garbage or the compost bin or somethin'."

"She didn't," Rushy said.  "She was going to, but I snatched it out of her hand because...  Well...  Well because it was mine, and winter's coming, and I might need that fur to keep me warm."

I shook my head and went back to looking for my ball of yarn when something white caught my attention.  Was that a scrap of 100% white cotton peeking out from behind the armoire?  "How did that get there?" I wondered aloud.

I pawed my way over to the armoire, grabbed onto the fabric, and gave it a good pull.  Something - or someone - was holding onto it at its other end.  I gave it another tug, this time leaning back and using all fifteen pounds of my weight as leverage, and...  And...  And...

SPLAT!!!

Okay, so it wasn't so much a splat as a...  Uh...  Um...  Well I tumbled backwards and landed on my tail, okay?  It hurt, too, but I had hold of that piece of fabric.  I, Seville the Cat, had won.  MOUSES!

I took a good look at the fabric I held in my paw and saw it was a white t-shirt kinda thing belonging to the peep.  Was this one of the tops she had put in the laundry yesterday?  One of the things that Rushy said had gone missing?  How on earth did it end up behind the armoire?  And a better question was, why on earth were there a whole bunch of...

"Are those rectangular holes cut out of the peep's top?" Andy asked, interrupting my train of thought.  "She's not going to be pleased when she sees that."  He put one front paw on my shoulder, and used the other to hold up the shirt to get a better view.   "Sivvers, my boy, you're in it up to your whiskers."

"I didn't cut those holes out of the peep's top," I said, grabbing the t-shirt out of Rushy's paw.  "But someone sure did.  Someone cut a bunch of teeny-tiny rectangular holes in this thing.  It's totally ruined, for sure."

I went over to the armoire again and leaned up against the wall behind it.  Closing one eye, I attempted to peer between the chunky piece of furniture and the wall.  Oops!  Wrong eye.  Hehehe...  My bad.  But never one to give up, I closed the other eye and took another peek.  What I saw made me stagger backwards in shock.  Turning around, my mouth hanging open, I said to my brother, "Rushy, you're not gonna believe what's goin' on back there.  MOUSES!"

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

Remember to return to Nerissa's Life, the blog, on Sunday December 1st for the conclusion to my latest adventure.  MOUSES!

top of the day to you all!

Happy St. Patrick's Day, everybody.

HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY!

Oh my mouses, my pals, I NEARLY FORGOT.

Can you believe it?

I did.

That's right, my friends, I nearly forgot today was St. Patrick's Day.

Now that wasn't lucky at all.

MOUSES!

Well actually...

Well actually, I didn't forget entirely.

Sometime last month, I remembered.

But then...

LAST WEEK...

I FORGOT.

MOUSES!

I've had so much on my mind as of late, you see.  You know, on account of my being hard at work writing my book.  I've been focused on that book of mine, for sure.

FYI, regarding my book, so far I've got two dead bodies, a couple of possible impostors, two law enforcement agencies - at least, a humongous list of suspects, and one suspiciously missing peep.

MOUSES!

So as you can imagine, with all my book writing stuff and everything, I wasn't able to bring you a 2019 St. Patrick's Day adventure.

So instead...

And I do hope this is okay.

So instead of writing a new adventure this year, on account of my havin' my paws full with adventure of the book-writing kind, I'm gonna post the links to some St. Patrick's Day adventures from St. Patrick's Days past.

That okay?

MOUSES!

So let's get started then.

If you remember last year, we had a wee bit of a flying green thing problem in the sunroom.  It was a mess, my friends.  A mess!  You can read all about it in The Infestation on my blog.

MOUSES!

In 2016, I found some gold coins.  I thought they were there for the taking.  Turned out, they weren't.  You can read all about 'em in Finders Keepers...  Maybe on my blog.

MOUSES!

Back in 2015, Nissy was still with us and he, along with a magical fairy, helped me concoct..  I mean, make.  Nah, concoct will do.  Anyway, Nissy helped me do up some catnip-flavoured breath mints.  Remember?  You can read all about 'em in Catnip and Fairy Dust on my blog.

MOUSES!

My last adventure to share is from 2014, when Nissy and I travelled ALL THE WAY TO IRELAND for some St. Patrick's Day fun.  You can read all about it in Seville's Four-Leaved Clovers on my blog.

MOUSES!

So there you have it, my friends.  Four - count 'em, FOUR - St. Patrick's Day adventures to share.

HAPPY READING EVERYONE!

And more importantly...

HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY

TO YOU ALL!!!

 

'twas the night before Christmas

'Twas the Night Before Christmas...

And all through the house...

*CRASH*

*BOOM*

*SMASH*

There were creatures a-stirrin'.

Perhaps a really, REALLY BIG mouse.

"Hey, that was no mouse, Mason.  That was me, your brother.  You know, me:  Seville the Cat.  MOUSES!"

"Why are you still up at this hour, Seville?  You KNOW Santa won't bring us our presents until we're all tucked in bed, asleep, dreamin' of..."

"Yeah, yeah...  I know the drill.  Santa won't come 'til we're all dreamin' of sugarplum, nipped up fairies and stuff.  MOUSES!"

"Then WHY are you still up?"

"Because I...  Uh...  Um...  Well..."

"Spit it out," demanded my sister.  So I did.  I spat the nip leaf I had been chewin' upon, right into her paw.  MOUSES!"

"Ewww..." and Mason wiped her paw on the sleeve of my nightshirt.

Wait a minute.  Nightshirt?  Sleeve?  I'm not wearin' any stupid ol' nightshirt with any stupid ol' sleeves.  MOUSES!

"Wake up, Sivvers.  Wake up!"

I could hear my brothers' voices, and I could feel someone tuggin' on my tail.  Givin' my head a good shake, I slowly sat up in the cat bed.  "What's goin' on?" I asked, not really wanting to know the answer, on account of my fearin' ANY answer from those two long-haired brotherly freaks of mine would be..  Well...  Weird.

To say the least.

MOUSES!

"There's someone in the living room," Andy whispered.

"And I think they're stealing things," added Rushton.

"WEASEL ALERT!" Mason yelled as she entered the room, brandishing what looked to be a weapon of some sort.  "We have weasels in the living room," she stated, "messing about with our tree.  WE'RE GOING TO DEFCON THREE."

Rolling my eyes, I groaned, "You really have to stop watchin' weird shows on TV, Mason.  MOUSES!"

"You'll change your tune about my studies of military manoeuvres when we're in full battle mode with the Weasel Syndicate," my sister said through gritted teeth.  "They're in there right now, stealing the presents Santa brought, no doubt.  We can't just sit back and do nothing, Seville.  We must protect what is ours!"

Not accustomed to bein' the voice of reason in my family, I spoke up anyway.  "And how do you know there are weasels in the livin' room, pray tell?"


"Did you not hear the crash?  AND THE BOOM?  AND THE SMASH?" Mason asked.

I scratched behind an ear with a hind leg.  "Come to think of it, I did.  Weasels made those noises, huh?  Are you SURE?"

"Of course I'm sure," Mason snapped.

"You SAW the weasels, and everythin'?"

"Well..."  Mason pawed at the ground.  "I didn't exactly SEE them.  But I heard them.  And when one hears the activity of weasels, one KNOWS they're up to no good.  You must know that, Seville.  You've dealt with the Weasel Syndicate before."

I nodded.  "True.  But..."

"But nothing.  COME ON," and she tossed me a...  To tell the truth, I have no idea what it was my sister tossed me.  It looked kinda like a spatula, but on the other paw, it could have been just a wooden spoon.

"And you two, too!" Mason cried, throwing Andy and Rushy kitchen implements as well.  Putting a small-sized stainless steel mixing bowl over her head, she peered out from under its rim.  "ONCE MORE UNTO THE BREACH, DEAR FRIENDS.  ONCE MORE!"

I shook my head in dismay at my thinkin'-she-was-a-king-named-Henry, sister.  Or was that Harry...  Whatever.

As quietly as we could while dragging various weaponized kitchen implements behind us, we four cats crept up to the living room door.  Mason had been right.  There WAS someone in there messing about with our stuff.  I could still hear the crashes and the booms, although they weren't nearly as loud as Mason had made 'em out to be.

"You look first," I hissed at my sister.  "You have the protective head gear."

Mason nodded, and peered around the entrance way.  Moments later, she turned back to us with a rather odd expression on her face.  Embarrassment, I wondered?

"It appears to be," coughed Mason.  "It seems..."

"What's up?" asked Rushy.  "How come your peachy cream furs are lookin' bright orange and red like us Marmies'?"

"Well..."  Mason looked about, furtively.

"Oh for mousin' out loud," I cried, headin' into the livin' room myself, brandishing my...  Yeah, I still wasn't sure if it was a wooden spatula or a funny lookin' spoon, but I figured whatever it was, it would do in a pinch.

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

"SEVILLE!" Peep #1 cried.

"WHY ARE YOU STILL AWAKE?" asked Peep #2.

"We're uh...  We were just...  UHHH..."

"We?  I only see you," and the first peep narrowed her eyes.

I looked over my shoulder.  MOUSES, there was no trace of my fur-sibs to be seen.  Those three cowardly siblings of mine had high-tailed it out of the area, the moment they sensed trouble.

"I uh...  I thought you were weasels," I confessed to the peeps.  "But in all fairness, I didn't come to that conclusion all by myself."

"And what are you doing with my cake decorating comb?" Peep #1 asked.

So THAT'S what it was.  Humph.  Who woulda guessed?  MOUSES!  I looked up at the peep.  "You want it back?"

"Probably not," she answered, shaking her head.

"So anyway...  Never mind 'bout what I'm doin' still up on Christmas Eve, Peepers.  What's more to the point is, WHAT ARE YOU TWO DOIN' STILL UP?  Huh?  HUH?  Tryin' to catch a glimpse of Santa or somethin'?  'Cause if you are, it's not gonna work.  The big guy in red won't come down the chimney 'til all of us are tucked into our beds.  DON'T YOU KNOW ANYTHIN', PEEPERS?  HUH?"

The peep looked down at her paws - I mean, feet -  and mumbled somethin' about my bein' correct.

"What was that, Peepers?  Didn't quite catch what you said.  YOU'RE GONNA HAVE TO SPEAK UP."

"You're RIGHT, Seville," she said.

"Of course I am," I smiled back.  "Now off to bed with you, you peeps," I told them.  "Off to bed and to sleep.  And uh...  Uh...  Um...   And a Very Merry Christmas to the both of you.  Let's plan on gettin' up at dawn to open prezzies, shall we?  Dawn sounds about right."  I turned and skedaddled it out of the room before either peep could complain 'bout gettin' up so early.  "Nighty night!" I cried from the hallway.  "You two had best get some sleep."

Moments later, once more tucked back in my cat bed, I softly whispered to all my friends from all around the world...

the contest

"Okay, OKAY...  Yeah, that's it.  Okay, a little more to the left there, Andy.  Hmmm...  Scratch that, a little more to the right.  Keep goin'.  Keep goin'.  KEEP GOIN'.  Nah, that looks sucky.  Move it back to your left, would ya?  No, YOUR left.  YOUR OTHER LEFT.  That's it.  Yup, keep on movin'.  A little more...  A little more...  A little..."

"MAKE UP YOUR MOUSING MIND, SIVVERS!  This carved pumpkin is really heavy."

"Yeah," Seville grinned, "but it's super spooky lookin', too.  We are SO GONNA WIN the neighbourhood Hallowe'en decoratin' contest this year.  No one - AND I MEAN NO ONE - has anythin' as good as this in their yard."

"Probably because no one around here is able to push these big jack o'lanterns around," puffed Andy.  "Honestly and truly, Seville, it's REALLY heavy.  Could you at least give me a paw?"

Seville thought for a bit.  "If I'm helpin' with the movin', I won't be able to direct.  Now push that thing another foot...  I mean, paw, over to your left.  MOUSES!"

"Whew!"  Andy sat back on his haunches after giving the pumpkin one final shove.  "Do you think that looks like it's in the right spot, now?"

Seville gave the pumpkin an appraising nod.  "Yup, looks just about PURRfect to me.  Now for the next one."

"NEXT one!  How many of these pumpkins do you have?"

"Just a dozen or so."  Seville held up a paw, "And before you start complainin', I'M the one who had to carve 'em all.  I asked the peep for help but she was busy doin' somethin' in the kitchen.  Somethin' stupid, would be my guess.  You know, basic stupid stuff peeps do."

Andy nodded with understanding.

At that moment, a black van came racing down the street and screeched to a halt in front of the cats' house.  Both front doors flew open and out popped two weaselly looking characters.  They approached Seville; the one in the lead holding a clipboard.  "May I speak to the gentleman of the house?" he asked.

Furrowing his brow, Seville replied, "That would be me.  What do you want?"

Vigorously shaking Seville's paw with both of his, he answered, "Wilton Weston Weasel from Shakers and Movers Moving - a subsidiary company, wholly owned and operated by the Weasel Syndicate - at your service."  Having finished his spiel, he bowed with a flourish.  "I understand you're in need of a moving company."

"Shakers and Movers?" Seville questioned.  "What kinda stupid name is that for a movin' company?  You shake up all the boxes of stuff you move?"

"When required, yes," the weasel replied.  "You'd be surprised how many peeps out there require a good shaking up when moving."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Seville told him, "and believe you me, I've heard some pretty stupid stuff.  You've met my brother, haven't you?"  Seville pointed to Andy.

"HEY!" Andy yelled.  "There's no need to insult the fur-sibs."  He extended a paw to the moving company weasel.  "But since you're here, YES.  Yes, we definitely require your services.   My brother has like a dozen of these enormous jack o'lanterns needing to be moved about before the neighbourhood Hallowe'en decorating contest judging begins."

The weasel made some mental calculations.  Or rather, the weasel made some calculations, counting on his fingers, then scribbled a figure on his clipboard.  Thrusting the scribbled upon paper in Seville's face, he declared, "Here."

"What the mouses is this?" asked Seville.

"My estimate."

Seville's jaw dropped.  "Eleven hundred and...  MOUSES!  That's highway robbery, that is.  I'm not payin'..."

Andy thrust a piece of plastic into the weasel's paw.  "Use this."

"Andy!" and Seville hauled his brother back.  "We can't pay out that kinda money.  The peep will absolutely freak."

Anderson narrowed his eyes.  "Well I'm not moving any more of your silly orange pumpkins around the yard on my own, Seville.  They're way too heavy.  These weasels specialise in moving things about."

"More like they specialise in shakin' things up," Seville said, gritting his teeth.  "Didn't you hear what he said about the shakin'?"

Andy pressed his lips together, adamantly.

 "FINE.  But YOU'RE gonna have to explain the bill to the peep.  MOUSES!" and Seville started drawing a garden plan so that the weasels would know exactly where to place the pumpkins.  Looking up, he said, "I need these moved within the hour.  Judging starts at noon."

The weasel nodded sharply.  Blowing on the whistle that had been hanging around his neck, the van's back door popped open and out popped...

Yes, you heard that correctly.

Out POPPED the weasels.  Five of them, to be exact.  Seville shook his head in disgust and gave Andy a dirty look.  Paying no attention to his brother's irritation, Andy shrugged his shoulders and lay down for a little nap.

At five minutes to twelve, Seville sauntered out of the house to check on the weasels' progress, carrying a large niptini and a pawful of snacks.  "Oohhhh..  This is gonna be good," he grinned.  "We are SO GONNA WIN..."  Stopping in his tracks, he looked around the front yard in dismay, ignoring the sound of glass shattering as he dropped his niptini on the brick pathway.

"WHAT THE MOUSES HAVE YOU DONE?" Seville cried.  "I MEAN, WHAT THE MOUSES HAVE YOU NOT DONE?  It's five minutes 'til judgin' starts and not a single one of these pumpkins has been moved!"

"But each and every one has been shaken," sneered the head weasel.  Thrusting an official looking piece of paper in Seville's face he added, "See?  Right here.  The contact states that...  Hmmm...  Yes, here...  Pumpkins.  Shaken.  Moving not required."

"BUT YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE A MOVIN' COMPANY!" Seville wailed.

The weasel simply smiled.  "Moving and shaking company, remember?  Our contract..."

"I DIDN'T SIGN THAT!  I DID NOT SIGN ANY STUPID MOUSED-UP CONTRACT.  I..."

"Your brother signed," and the weasel's smile became malevolent, "right there on the dotted line.  See?"

Seville snatched the contract out of the weasel's hand.  "ANDY!!!"

Andy woke with a start.  "You looking for me, Sivvers?"

Seville growled.  Turning back to the weasel he said, "I don't care what Andy did or did not sign.  You're gonna get these pumpkins moved into place, and you're gonna get 'em moved, NOW.  MOUSES!"

Just then, a trio of well-dressed peeps came walking down the path leading to Seville's front door.  The female peep looked about the yard, tsking and muttering about the mess.  The two male peeps whispered to one another, questioning whether or not they had the right address.  "They appear to be completely unprepared," Seville heard one of them say.

"But..."  Seville began.  "WAIT!  Please wait, your royal...  Honoured?  Yes, your HONOURED judges.  PLEASE wait.  Pretty please?  Pretty please with nip on top?  We've met up with a slight, UNEXPECTED snafu, you see."  He watched as the female peep lifted one foot to find pumpkin seeds and guts dripping from her shoe.

"Here, let me fix that," and Seville grabbed hold of Andy's tail, using it to wipe the pumpkin guts off the shoe.  "I must have missed those when I cleaned up..."

The female peep raised an eyebrow.  "This has been cleaned up?" she questioned.  "What did it look like BEFORE?"

"It...  Uh...  Um..." Seville sputtered.

The head weasel stepped between Seville and the three judges.  "Wilton Weston Weasel from Shakers and Movers Moving - a subsidiary company, wholly owned and operated by the Weasel Syndicate - at your service," he said, thrusting out one hand.  "I assume you've already been to the house down the street?  The house owned by Wesley Weston?  MY BROTHER?" and he glanced over at Seville, sneering.

"Ah yes," answered one of the male judges.  "And a VERY FINE decorating job that was.  EXCELLENT work, unlike..." and he looked about Seville's yard.

Seville sat back on his haunches and let out a loud sigh.

"SEVILLE!" someone hollered with a piercing shriek.  Flinging open the front door, Peep #1 stood there and yelled once more.  "SEVILLE!  What have you done with the pumpkin I left on the kitchen counter?  I'm in the middle of baking..."

Peep #1 stopped short at the sight of the three judges.  She stood there, her apron askew and covered with flour, her hair half in and half out of its pony tail, and bits of pastry stuck to her clothing and face.  "Oh, hello..." and she held out a hand.  A bit of egg shell that had been sticking to her palm fell to the ground.

"ARRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" the judges screamed in unison.  "IT'S FRANKENSTEIN'S WIFE!!!"  Turning on their heels, they ran as fast as they could, away from Seville and Peep #1.  And off in the distance Seville could hear, "YOU WIN, Seville the Cat.  That's the scariest sight anyone has ever seen."

Seville smiled to himself as he walked up to the peep.  "Thanks, Peepers.  I appreciate the...  Uh...  Hmmm..." and he picked a piece of pastry off the peep's apron.  "Mmmm...  You need a taste taster for that pie you're bakin'?  MMMM...."

With their plot to win the neighbourhood Hallowe'en decorating contest foiled, the weasels slumped their shoulders and slowly shuffled off to their van.  "Maybe next year," one of them sighed.  "Who knew we'd ever have to compete with a sight as scary as that?"  The other weasels all visibly shuddered.  And before turning to head indoors, Seville waved goodbye to the weasels, and cried...