persona non grata

Persona non grata, Peepers.  Persona non grata!  You are a very unwelcome person, for sure.

MOUSES!

Except, of course, when I need you to serve me my din-dins.

Which kinda goes without sayin'.

MOUSES!

I know, I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin' Peepers must have done somethin' super duper horribly horrific, for her to be persona non grata with Saffron and me.

Well, do you know somethin', my friends?

YOU WOULD BE RIGHT.

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, it all started the other day.  Or maybe it was actually yesterday.  The whole thing is a total blur on account of my tryin' to completely wipe the event from my memory.

MOUSES!

So one day very recently, perhaps even yesterday, Peepers got out the ol' whatchamacallits.  Yeah, that's what she said.  That's the very word she happened to use.

AND THAT'S WHEN I SHOULD have clued in.  'Cause whenever Peepers starts gettin' all vague, usin' words that could be applied to just about anythin', there's bound to be trouble, for sure.

Either that - trouble, I mean - or she has just gone and forgotten her words.  Could go either way, I suppose.  A lot depends on whether or not she has recently had her caffeine.

But whether she's at a loss for the correct word due to self-decaffeination or intentional vagueness or some weird kinda combination of the two....

THERE'S BOUND TO BE TROUBLE, for sure.

MOUSES!

So anyway....

So anyway, out came the whatchamacallits.  I wasn't sure what they were, at first, as she was holding 'em behind her back.

CLUE NUMBER TWO there was terrible trouble a-brewin'.

HOW DID I NOT KNOW?

Nip-induced half-slumber, I suppose.

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, out came the whatchamacallits from behind Peepers' back and in one swift movement, she had Saffron in her arms, twisted him around so she was facin' HIS back, and before he could ask WHAT STRANGE INSANITY IS THIS? she had dosed him with perfume.

Okay, so it wasn't perfume.

It was far worse.

FLEA AND TICK ONE AND BE DONE.

MOUSES!

Well!  Well, I have to admit, I almost laughed to myself.  The look on his face...  Oh, it was a good one, for sure.  I mean, I know he's my brother and I really do love him a lot, BUT THAT LOOK ON HIS FACE....

Well...

MOUSES!

So then, when I was busy stiflin' a laugh, closin' my eyes like one does when one stifles, the next thing I knew...

The next thing I knew...

The next thing I knew, I had been treated, as well.

MOUSES!

Which is why...

Which is why PEEPERS IS PERSONA NON GRATA, for sure.

MOUSES!

gosh darn it

What?

WHAT?

WHAT?

Gosh darn it, she went and dabbed me.

MOUSES!

Peepers, why the mouses did you go and do that?  WHY?  WHY?  Why, I ask you.  WHY?

'Cause Saffy was doin' the zoomies, you say?

Just what do Saffy's zoomies have to do with anythin'?  Saffy zooms on a regular basis.

You really should know that by now.

MOUSES!

Oh, I get it.  You thought Saffy was doin' the zoomies on account of his havin' fleas.

Hmmm...

Well did you ever think of this, Peepers?  Did you ever think that Saffy was doin' the zoomies on account of Saffy just LIKIN' to do the zoomies?  And did you ever think that his likin' to do the zoomies has absolutely nothin' to do with fleas?

And did you even SEE a flea, Peepers?  DID you?  Bet you you didn't.  We cats have nearly perfect eyesight and neither Saffy nor I saw any fleas.  If there were fleas to be seen, we would have seen 'em first, and that is for sure.

Fact.

MOUSES!

And what's more...

ZOOM!!!

See?  Dabbed with the flea stuff or not, Saffy is STILL doin' those zoomies.  'Cause he likes zoomin', is why.  Has absolutely NOTHIN' to do with nothin' about fleas.

ZOOM!!!

On the other paw, he could be doin' the zoomies 'cause zoomin' around is the fastest way to get past you.  That's right, ol' peep of mine, he might be wantin' to get past you as fast as he can on account of his not wantin' to spend too much time anywhere near you.  You know, on account of his not speakin' to you today.

That's what I said, Peepers.  That's what I said.  I said, TODAY, Saffy Saffron Sassifras is not speakin' to YOU.

'CAUSE YOU DABBED HIM, THAT'S WHY.

And speakin' of gettin' dabbed, you dabbed me, too.  SO I'M NOT SPEAKIN' TO YOU, EITHER.

Gettin' dabbed in the middle of October.

In Canada!

Ridiculous, I say.

I really do hate when she dabs me.

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.

public service announcement

We interrupt this blog post with the followin' public service announcement.

MOUSES!

Hey Peepers!  Come over here, would ya?  There's somethin' I need you to see.  That.  You need to see that.  *points paw*  THAT!

*gives head a shake*

I said, THAT!  What are you, Peepers, BLIND?

MOUSES!

Oh, sorry there peep.  I was pointin' at the wrong thing.  That there speck is nothin' but a speck of dust.

MOUSES!

Okay, this...  *points paw again*  ...is what I actually wanted you to see.  See that?  See that there speck?

Well...

Well that there speck is a flea.

MOUSES!

I know, I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin' that I, Seville the Cat, have fleas.

WRONG!!!

I, Seville the Cat, do not get fleas.

MOUSES!

But accordin' to the Nova Scotia Government's website, late summer - aka August and September - is peak season for fleas.

Bet you didn't know our provincial government has info 'bout fleas on-line, did ya.  But they do!

So for all you cats out there who, unlike me, DO get fleas, it's time for you to have "the talk"with your peeps.  Yup, it's time to be talkin' to your peeps 'bout fleas; and makin' sure necessary precautions are taken.

You don't wanna be bringin' those pesky critters into the house, you see.

Personally, I highly recommend one of those flea combs.  The use of a flea comb can provide you and your peeps with endless quality bonding time.

Plus, it feels kinda good.

EVEN THOUGH I, MYSELF, DON'T GET FLEAS.

But I've been TOLD how good those combs can feel, you see.

Okay, FINE.  I've been known to let the peeps use one on me.  Just for fun, mind you.  JUST FOR FUN!

'Cause remember, I, Seville the Cat, DON'T GET FLEAS.

I have, however, been dabbed on the back of the neck.

You know, with stuff from the vet.

MOUSES!

Peepers says it's "MANCAT COLOGNE," but I have my doubts.  Doesn't smell like the colognes I've seen advertised on TV.

MOUSES!

But anyway...

But anyway, as peak season for fleas is upon us, you'll wanna have "the talk" with your peeps to make sure none of those pesky little critters think they can make their winter home in your house, 'cause believe-you-me, fleas make very bad house guests, indeed.

Oh so I've been told.

By a friend.

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.

a hidden world

So you all know about ol' Peepers belongin' to a writers' group, right?  WHY, I don't know.  I mean, I'm the writer in this here family - yeah, me, Seville the Cat -  so why-oh-WHY anyone would want the peep in their writers' group is beyond me.  After all, she's just a peep.

MOUSES!

Well long story short, the topic for this week's meetin' at the peep's writers' group was "A Hidden World."  A Hidden WORLD.  A HIDDEN World.  A world that is... You know...  Hidden.

Well the peep, bein' a peep, couldn't think of a thing to write about that.

Figures.

MOUSES!

NOW do you see why they should have invited ME to join that there group and not the peep?

MOUSES!  

So anyway...

So anyway, to make an even longer story even shorter, I took the peep's face in my two front paws and I said, "Peepers, don't you fret.  I, Seville the Cat, am on the case.  I'll write somethin' for you to take to your group.  In other words, I'll do your homework for you."

And of course, this came as a great relief to the peep.

MOUSES!

So I sat down at the computer and began to type.

Okay, so I sat down at the computer and thought 'bout all the hidden worlds in the world...   In the galaxy?  Universe?  Whatever.  So anyway, I thought about all those hidden worlds, wherever they might be, and decided to write 'bout somethin' a little closer to home.

I decided to write about...

Well...

Well you ever hear tell 'bout fleas, my friends?  Yeah, that's what I said: FLEAS.

MOUSES!

Not that I have fleas, or anythin' like that.  No sirree, I get the dab on the back of my neck once a month durin' flea season so I, Seville the Cat, am a flea-free cat, but I can still write 'bout the hidden world of fleas.

Their world - ie, the world of fleas - is hidden on account of them spendin' their lives hiding 'mongst the hairs of us cats - ALTHOUGH NOT MINE, 'cause like I said, I don't have fleas - and dogs and mice and the like.  Hidden from the eyes of peeps.

Yeah, that's where the "hidden" part comes in.  You know, on account of peeps not SEEIN' the fleas.

To be perfectly honest, we cats don't see 'em either.  The fleas, I mean.  We ALWAYS see the peeps.  But boy-oh-boy can one ever feel 'em.  I mean, the fleas.

Not that I would know 'bout that on account of my not havin' any fleas, like I said before, but cats and dogs and stuff who do have 'em, never see 'em either, for they are HIDDEN, you see.  And again, I'm talkin' about the fleas.

MOUSES!

But my gosh, have I ever heard tales of those fleas and their kind, goin' about their business in their world hidden to peeps.

You've heard of a flea circus, my friends?  It's a real thing, you know.  That's a fact.

Yup, there are fleas livin' their lives on the backs of dogs and cats, entirely hidden from the world, entertain' other fleas at their flea circuses and things.  Jumpin' through hoops, and walkin' across dog hair tight ropes, and the like.  Tossin' each other into the air, and hopin' against hope some flea will catch 'em on their way down.

Once I heard tell of a clown flea.  Yup, he was a clown, and he was a flea.  Who knew they made clown shoes in that size?

MOUSES!

But the hidden world of fleas is not all circuses and clowns wearin' flea-sized clown shoes and stuff.  Nope, they have flea tea parties, too.  Fancy-schmancy tea parties, I've heard.  They get dressed up  for 'em and everythin', with big ol' hats and hoop skirts and stuff.  The lady fleas even wear high-heeled shoes.

Or so I've been told.

MOUSES!

So to all the cats and dogs out there who don't get their monthly dabs, if you think you feel a flea bitin' you, it might just be the lady fleas attending a tea party on your back, walkin' about in stiletto heels, in the hidden world of fleas.

'Cause let's face facts here, my friends.  Why would a bunch of fleas livin' their lives TOTALLY HIDDEN from the big world out there, wanna bite you on your back?  That would bring attention to themselves, which is not a good way to remain hidden.

YOU GOT A BETTER ANSWER FOR THAT?

Of course you don't.

MOUSES!

OH PEEPERS...  Peepers, I've got your assignment all ready for you to take to your writers' group tomorrow afternoon.  It's all about the hidden world of fleas.

I'll send you my bill in the mornin'.

MOUSES!