birds

Knock it off!

KNOCK IT OFF!

I SAID, KNOCK IT OFF OUT THERE, YOU STUPID BIRDS!!!

MOUSES!

I'm tellin' ya...

Birds.

MOUSES!

Peepers.  PEEPERS!  Peepers, this is all your fault, you know.  It's ALL. YOUR. FAULT.  If you hadn't fed those darned birds all last winter, then planted a whole bunch of stuff for 'em to eat in the summer, they wouldn't be hangin' out in the garden next to MY office window, right now.  YOU are to blame, Peepers.  You are TOTALLY to blame.

MOUSES!

Actually, I wouldn't mind 'em all that much if it weren't for that incessant noise they keep makin'.  All that cawin' and squawkin' and stuff.

They're disturbin' my peace!

They're almost as bad as the peep when she caterwauls.  Not quite, but pretty darned close.

MOUSES!

I know!  I shall call the RCMP and let 'em know there's a flock of crows and blue jays in my yard all hootin' and hollerin; and disturbin' the peace.

Now let's see...  Nine...  One...

PEEPERS!  You might wanna check on those birds.

I DON'T CARE if you're not bothered by their loud cawin'.  I'm phonin' the police 'cause I'M bothered by all that noise.  But you might wanna get out there toot suite, my peep, 'cause I'm bettin' you'll be bothered by what they've started doin' now.

Don't tell me to wipe that Cheshire Cat grin off my face.  That grin is there for a reason.  That grin is there 'cause I know somethin' you don't know, and I know you'll be upset when you do know, too.

One.

*ring a ling ding*

Gosh darn it, police put me on hold.

MOUSES!

Yeah, yeah, Peepers.  I'm tellin' ya, you had best get out there now.  I'd come with you but I'm still on the phone.  I'm on hold.

Oh, hello there Mr. Police Person, Sir.  Seville the Cat, here.  I'm callin' to let you know...

WHAT?

They hung up on me.

MOUSES!

You'd think they'd never before been called by a cat.

MOUSES!

Well I'll just have to take care of those birds, myself, then.  Take matters into my own four paws.  I'll just have to let those birds know who's boss 'round here, and...

Oh, here comes Peepers back from outside, now.

Told ya.  Yup, I told you, you wouldn't be happy.  I TOLD YOU.

Hehehehehehehe...

Whatcha doin' there, Peepers?  Who are ya gonna call?  Don't bother callin' the police 'cause if they're not takin' calls from me, they're definitely not gonna take one from you.  I mean, I'M a cat, and you...   Well you're norhin' more than a mere peep.  A peepling, in fact.  A...

YOU GOT THROUGH?

MOUSES!

Well you don't need 'em, Peepers.  'Cause I'm headin' out there right now and I'm gonna deal with those birds once and for all.  By the time I'm through with 'em, it'll be quiet 'round here, and I'll be able to get back to my nap...  I MEAN, back to workin' on my book.

MOUSES!

Be back in a sec.

OH MY MOUSES, PEEPERS!  CALL THE POLICE!  CALL THE POLICE!  THERE'S A BUNCH OF ANGRY BIRDS OUT THERE BEIN' EVEN LOUDER THAN BEFORE, AND IT'S LIKE THEY'RE READY TO ATTACK.  THEY'RE HOOTIN' AND HOLLERIN' AND SWOOPIN' AND FLAPPIN' THEIR WINGS, AND...

AND IT'S MAYHEM AND MADNESS, FOR SURE!

Plus, they've been busy pullin' out a whole whack of your plants.  At first, I thought they thought it was a game of some sort, but now...

But now, I think they're preparin' for war.

Those birds mean business, Peepers.  They mean business, for sure.

BIRDS.

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.

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!

all hail the great peepers

So yesterday I was hangin' about in the garden, followin' the peep around, when...

Scratch that.  Doesn't sound like somethin' I'd do.

So yesterday I was hangin' about in the garden, allowing the peep to THINK I was followin' her around, when really, she was followin' me.

That's better.

MOUSES!

The peep was waterin' some stuff out there, and I was watchin' her with great interest, when...

Scratch that.  Doesn't sound like somethin' I'd do.

The peep was waterin' some stuff out there, and I was SUPERVISING her activities.

That's better.

MOUSES!

Well at some point she and I ended up way at the back of the garden, and she was waterin' these vine things climbing up some kinda metal contraption.  They looked like they were tryin' to take over the place!

You know, like aliens do.

MOUSES!

Well the peep was gettin' awfully close to those possibly alien vines, and I thought to myself, Oh great, next thing I know she's gonna get her brain snatched or somethin' like that.

MOUSES!

Then, after watering the possibly alien vines, she started pokin' around in them, looking under leaves and things like that, making me then think, Yup, here comes the brain snatchin' bit.  You see it on TV all the time and it happens just like that.  Peeps stickin' their noses into places their noses don't belong.

MOUSES!

Well the next thing I knew, out from under one of those vines, the peep pulled...

Pulled...

PULLED...

A CUCUMBER.

MOUSES!

My jaw dropped.  My face paled.  My hind legs got all wobbly and stuff.

Are you crazy?  Are you mad?  Have you gone bonkers?  ARE YOU INSANE?  Peepers, put that Dirty Rotten, Dastardly Dangerous Cucumber DOWN!

Well the peep, bein' a peep, totally ignored my high-pitched screams...

Scratch that.  Doesn't sound like somethin' I'd do.

Well the peep, bein' a peep, totally ignored my MANly MANcat demand.  In fact, instead of heeding my warning, she reached back in and pulled out another...

CUCUMBER.

MOUSES!

I wanted to cry.  I wanted to sob.  I wanted to save my peep from that dastardly, dirty rotten fruit.  I wanted to...

Okay, so I ran.  I admit it.  Are you satisfied?  You can't blame a kitty for that.  I mean, maybe the peep didn't care if the cucumber aliens ate her brains, but I - bein' the extremely intelligent cat that I am - knew the best thing to do at the sight of a cucumber was...

RUN.

MOUSES!

So I ran.  I ran and I ran and I ran.  I ran straight to the house and into the kitchen to warn Rushton and Peep #2, and...

And then the next thing I knew, Ol' Peepers was there in the kitchen, too.  And in her paws...  I mean, hands, were three cukes.

MOUSES!

Well let me tell you, my friends.  What I witnessed next, I can barely believe.  It was a sight no kitty has ever seen.

There was my peep.  MY peep.  Ol' Peepers, for sure.  Well she wrestled those cucumber freaks.  She wrestled 'em right into the sink, drownin' their alieness right out of 'em.  And after half-drowning the things, she ATTACKED 'EM WITH KNIVES!  KNIVES!

Okay, so there was only one knife involved, but when you think about it, that makes what she did even MORE courageous and fearless and...

Dumb?

Maybe.

MOUSES!

Next thing I knew, she was skinning those alien things.  She was slicing and dicing and...

Well...

Well let's just say, a cucumber is not nearly so intimidating to a kitty like me when it's made into little tea sandwiches, as pretty as can be.

MOUSES!

I sighed a huge sigh of relief, knowing MY PEEP had won the GREAT CUCUMBER BATTLE of 2019.  Then I called up the New York Times, as well as the Globe and Mail, knowing they'd surely want first dibs on THE story of the century.

Long story short, they didn't.

I have no idea why.

MOUSES!

ALL HAIL THE GREAT PEEPERS!  Three cucumbers taken down without even breaking a sweat.

And that, my friends, was that.

MOUSES!

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

Hey everybody!  You all remember a few years back when peeps were scarin' kitties with cucumbers?  Yup, it was crazy as crazy can be.  I did blog about it at the time, and you can read all 'bout it right HERE.  MOUSES!

a supervisory capacity

A kitty's job is never done.

MOUSES!

Yesterday afternoon, the peep was out and about in the garden plantin' some stuff.  Not good stuff like catnip, mind you.  Just,,,

Stuff.

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, I figured the peep would be in need of my help.  You know, on account of her bein' nothin' more than a peep and all.

Peeps do need our help.

Proven fact.

MOUSES!

Well the peep was busy doin' whatever she was doin', and I was lyin' there on the ground near her, havin' a little nap, and...

I MEAN...

I mean, I was lyin' there on the ground near her, acting in a SUPERVISORY capacity, if you know what I mean.

THEN ALL OF A SUDDEN...

RIGHT BEFORE MY EYES...

There appeared, a mouse.

MOUSES!

It was just a wee little mouse.  A small little guy.  I didn't ask him his name.  For that matter, I don't even know if he was a he or a she!  Truth be told, I didn't ask about that, either.  I did, however, get up from my napping position, and...

I MEAN...

I mean, I did get up from where I was SUPERVISING THE PEEP, to wander on over to that there mouse.  For one brief moment - for only a second or two - I had intentions of catchin' that mouse and bringing him home for tea.  But then the peep, bein' a peep, said something 'bout leavin' poor mousie alone.


MOUSES!

And that's when I went back to supervisin' the peep.

Did you know...

Did you know, peeps rarely dig with their paws?

It's a fact.

I watched the peep doin' whatever she was doin' in the garden, which didn't involve catnip and therefore was likely useless, and not once did she dig in the ground with her paws.  Nope, she used a teeny tiny shovel she calls a trowel, instead.  I thought about gettin' up from my prostrate position and teachin' her how to dig properly, but reconsidered when I again saw...

That there mouse.

MOUSES!

Of course, the peep, bein' the nosey, in-your-face kinda nosey parker she is, once again told me to leave poor mousie alone.

MOUSES!

So there I was, caught between a rock and a hard place, and...

Well actually, I was caught between a nice comfy nappin' spot, and...

I MEAN...

I mean, I was caught between a nice comfy spot suitable for SUPERVISING peeps, and uh...

Um...

Well to tell you the truth, chasin' that mouse really wasn't of any interest to me, after all.  It's not like the mouse was gonna accept my invitation for dinner.  And even if he did, I highly doubt he'd bring a suitable gift for the host - which would be me - such as a bottle of fine nip wine.

You see, it's a well known fact in feline circles that mice are known for not bringing gifts for the host  and/or hostess when invited for dinner.

Total fact.

MOUSES!

And, of course, I was kinda busy.

You know, busy supervisin' the peep while she was doin' her stupid gardening stuff.  It would have been wrong for me to go gallivanting around the garden, trackin' down that there mouse, when the peep OBVIOUSLY NEEDED MY HELP doin' her uh...

Um...

Stupid stuff.

Goodness knows what she was doin'.  The peep, I mean.  It was somethin' stupid, for sure.  Imagine diggin' and delvin' in garden soil with not a nip plant nor nip seed in sight.

IMAGINE!

But that's a peep for you, isn't it?  They're ALWAYS doin' stupid stuff.

MOUSES!

what a mess

"What a Moused-up, Mousin' Mess.  MOUSES!"  Kickin' an acorn across the driveway, I noticed some squirrels huddled together, chatterin' to themselves.  "Hey!  Yeah, YOU!" I cried.  "What the mouses are you lookin' at?  What business is it of yours?" and I kicked another acorn, just for good measure, before turnin' my back on the squirrels and stompin' toward the house.

"Hey PEEPERS!  You need to get out here, right now."

The peep came runnin', thinkin' one of us cats was hurt or somethin', I guess.  Either that or she was tired of listenin' to Peep #2 blather on about somethin' unimportant.  In other words, somethin' not pertainin' to us cats.  MOUSES!

"What's the matter?" Peep #1 asked.  "What's wrong?"

I stared at the peep.  "Can you not SEE what's wrong?  LOOK ABOUT YOU, WOMAN.  Just look!"

The peep looked, but I could tell she didn't understand.  I could see wheels spinnin' in that ol' head of hers, but they were just spinning 'round and 'round, kickin' up nothin' but dust.  MOUSES!

"JUST LOOK AT THIS MESS!" I yelled.  "Even the squirrels are mockin' me on account of the mess."

"The squirrels are mocking you?" the peep asked.  From the tone of her voice, I was thinkin' she didn't believe me.

"Oh yeah.  I can tell," I told her, noddin' wisely.  "I, Seville the Cat, can ALWAYS tell when squirrels are mockin' us cats.  Their chatterin' goes up an octave, you see.  It's a TOTALLY different chatterin' sound, for sure.  And let me tell you somethin', Peepers: I don't like it.  I don't like it, one bit.  And let me tell you somethin' ELSE, Peepers: That mockin' chatterin' is ALL YOUR FAULT, for sure.  MOUSES!"

The peep looked dumbfounded.  In other words - or in ANOTHER word - NORMAL.  MOUSES!

"So uh..." and I absentmindedly kicked at another acorn.  Where the mouses all the acorns were comin' from was a mystery, for sure, but I didn't ask the peep, on account of my havin' much bigger issues at paw.  "So Peepers, exactly what are you gonna do about this mess?  Huh?  HUH?  Might I suggest a clean up crew, perhaps?  I'm thinkin' you might need a dozen guys or so.  Maybe two.  Two DOZEN, that is.  This is WAY too much mess for just two.  MOUSES!"

"Seville..." and the peep screwed up her nose.  "What on earth are you talking about?  Where is this MESS you're going on about now?"

I rolled my eyes.  "EVERYWHERE!" I cried.  "Here.  There.  EVERYWHERE.  Someone must have come along last night and dumped bags and bags AND BAGS of wet, soggy, mushy, icky leaves all over the ground.  Not to mention a truckload of acorns.  And then there's the potting soil..."

The peep held up a paw.  I mean, hand.  "We'll get back to the leaves in a moment," she said, "but what's this about potting soil?"

"Did I not mention the leaves are all wet and soggy?"

"Yes, you did mention that.  But what's this about potting soil?" she asked, AGAIN.

"Did I not mention they're slippery?  The leaves, I mean.  They're VERY slippery leaves, indeed."

I could see the wheels turnin' inside her head again.  Literally.  Yup, I could LITERALLY see the wheels turnin', on account of there not bein' much brain in there to hide the hamster - or whatever the little guy is - runnin' around on that rodent-sized wheel in there, makin' it turn.

"Do you mean..." began the peep.

"NOW you're thinkin'," and I clapped my front paws together.  "Yup, I can see the smoke comin' out of your ears, now.  Be careful not to overtax that brain of yours though, Peepers, 'cause you don't want it to overheat."

The peep thought for a bit longer before speaking again.  "Seville, are you trying to tell me that you slipped on some wet leaves while dragging around a bag of potting soil, spilling said potting soil all over the driveway?"

"Is that not what I said in the first place?"  I stared at the peep.  "You're pretty slow on the uptake there but, yeah, that's exactly what happened."  I shook my head in dismay.  "Sometimes I think I have to spoon feed you information, Peepers.  It's amazin' you can even get yourself dressed in the mornings.  MOUSES!"

The peep sighed.  "So what do you expect me to do about this...  mess?"

"I already told you.  A clean up crew is what we need.  And make it a big one, too."

"Exactly how much potting soil did you spill?"

"Not that much, really.  But you need the crew to clean up the leaves, as well.  Like I said, SOMEONE came along in the middle of the night and dumped TONNES of leaves all over the driveway, and the garden, and everywhere else.  You'll probably want to call the police in to investigate, but you need to organise that crew for the cleanin' up, right away.  You know, before I go and slip on the leaves again, and..."

"Seville..." the peep began with a sigh.

You know, I thought I detected a hint of exasperation in her voice.  Not quite sure why, though.  She sounded like she was gettin' frustrated by somethin' but for the life of me, I had no idea what.  I mean, it's not like SHE was the one who slipped on those slippery leaves.  Nor was she the one at whom those squirrels had been chatterin', either.  Spotting another acorn on the ground, I whacked it with a paw.  I watched as it rolled toward the peep, stoppin' a few inches from her feet.

"You were sayin'?" I asked.

"Seville, no one dumped tonnes of leaves in our yard."

"Au contraire mon frère...  I mean, ma peep.  Hmmm...  How do you say Peep in French, Peepers?  Could it be, Peep?" I asked, usin' a French accent.

"Seville..."

And there was that exasperated tone again.  What WAS her problem?  MOUSES!

I held up a paw.  "Peepers, someone CLEARLY dumped all these leaves..."

"No, Seville," and the peep interrupted me, VERY RUDELY, I might add.  "No one dumped any leaves.  "It's fall.  Autumn.  The leaves fall in the fall."

I screwed up my nose.  "Well why are they all wet and slippery, then?  You have an answer for THAT, Miss Know-it-all Fancy Pants?"  Why I added the fancy pants bit at the end, I have no idea.  Just sounded good, I suppose, but the truth was, the peep's pants were anythin' but fancy.  MOUSES!

"Because it rained, Seville.  The leaves fell from the trees, and then it rained.  A lot.  It rained for two days, non-stop, then rained a bit more, yesterday, and..."

"And the fallen leaves got all wet," I concluded.  "Interestin'...  Well I suppose there's no need to call in the police, then."

"No, there's no need for the police."

"Okay, Peepers, but..."

"But what?" she asked.

"But where are you on that clean-up crew?  We've still got a big ol' mess to deal with, and I'M not gonna clean it all up.  You best get on the phone, now.  I'll go check the garage to see how many rakes and things we have.  And uh..."

"And WHAT?" the peep asked.  She closed her eyes, probably not wantin' to hear my answer which was Super Stupid on her part, 'cause when you think about it, one hears with one's ears, not one's eyes, and as far as I could tell, her EARS were still wide open for hearin'.  MOUSES!

"And some shovels and stuff.  You know, for the potting soil."

"How much potting soil did you spill again?  And why were you dragging potting soil around in the first place?"

"Meh...  Potting soil...  Top soil...  A bag or two...  A dump truck's worth.  Po-tay-toes, po-tah-toes, Peepers.   Po-tay-toes, po-tah-toes."

The peep let out a loud sigh.

"Oh, and uh...  Peepers?"

"YES..."

"Um...  Never mind.  I'll tell you 'bout the other stuff, tomorrow.  You know, when those plumes of smoke have stopped comin' out of your ears.  MOUSES!"

pass me a drink

Can someone please pass me a drink?

Nip on the rocks would be nice, but if you don't have that, a niptini will do.  Extra nip, if you please.  Thanks.

Here Peepers, get this down ya.  See if it makes you feel any better.

MOUSES!

Hmmm...  You know, if I were pawed a nip on the rocks by an ever-so-thoughtful marmalade kitty, I would be sure to say thank you.

MOUSES!

What are those green flecks floatin' around in the glass, you ask?  Why, that's the nip, of course.

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, I have another tale to tell you, my friends, 'bout the critters livin' around and about my house.

Actually, "tale" is not a good word for me to use, as everythin' I'm about to tell you is...

ONE HUNDRED PERCENT TRUE.

No fake news or alternative facts here.

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, yesterday, the peep was doin' somethin' with her plants.  I don't know exactly what.  She was moving 'em about or somethin' weird like that.  You know, weird stuff like peeps do.

Now these plants aren't planted in the ground.  No sirree.  These plants are still in flats and pots and things.  They're out on the driveway, which is why the peep was doin' whatever weird stuff she was doin', while standin' on the driveway, herself.

Now I, Seville the Cat, was up at the family room window, observin' the peep.  It's best to observe from a distance, I find.  You're less likely to be contaminated with peep weirdness that way.  Andy, never one to be concerned with peep weirdness contamination, was at the side door, just sittin' there, doin' whatever Andys do, which would be pretty much nothin'.  Nothin' good, anyway, and that is for sure.  Mason was sniffin' some lemon balm.  Why, I don't know.  I mean, the stuff reeks of stinky ol' lemons.  It's a definite ewww...

Well the peep was just about to bend down and pick up a plant when she noticed a very big - one might even say, HUGE - grey squirrel runnin' toward her.  He...  She?  Don't know, to be honest, as I didn't ask, and quite frankly, the boy squirrels look just like the girls to us cats.

I suppose the squirrels can tell the difference but seriously, it's really not pertinent to my story.

MOUSES!

So anyway, this squirrel dude - or gal - comes runnin' up to the peep and stops 'bout...  'Bout six feet away.  Which would be less than one foot away from my sister, Mason.  But Mason was so intent on the smellin' of the lemon balm, she didn't even notice the squirrel at first.

Andy spotted the squirrel right away, but did he move?  Ha!  Did he run and chase the squirrel?  HA!

Nope, no sirree.  Andy, bein' an Andy, just sat there and yawned.

Yes, yawned.  A borin' ol' yawn was all Andy could muster.  A yawn!

MOUSES!

Then Mason came out of her lemon-balm sniffin' trance and turned around.  Looked right at the squirrel.  Right in his eyes.  And then...

Then she went back to the lemon balm which, I might add, stinks.  Did I happen to mention that?  That ol' lemon balm stinks to high heaven, just like stinky ol' lemons.

MOUSES!

Now the peep...  Well the peep just stood there, lookin' at the squirrel.  The squirrel stood his - her? - ground and looked right back at the peep.

Clearly, the peep is not a threat to the local wildlife.

And apparently, neither are we cats.

MOUSES!

Seriously, my friends, that ol' squirrel wasn't the least bit afraid of my lemon balm sniffin' sister, nor my full of yawns brother which, when you think about it, is probably a good thing.  You know, on account of when the grey squirrels get upset 'round here, they tend to hurl objects at the peep.

Remember the Great Acorn Incident of 2016?

MOUSES!

But back to the present and my peep.

So the peep watched as the squirrel took a few steps closer.  Now these were squirrel steps, mind you.  Squirrel steps aren't that big so really, he - she? - didn't travel all that far.

But he travelled far enough, to...

To grab a big ol' juice strawberry from a strawberry plant before turnin' and carryin' it off.

MOUSES!

Now the peep, bein' a peep, was totally annoyed.  Why, I don't know, on account of strawberries bein' right up there in the yuk department as lemon balm.

But you know peeps...

Peeps have no sense of good taste, whatsoever.

And apparently neither does my sister, for there she was, still intent on sniffin' that stinky ol' balm.

MOUSES!

But as far as I'm concerned, that squirrel did Ol' Peepers a really big favour by disposin' of the stupid red strawberry.

The peep, on the other paw, disagreed.

In fact, it was her moanin' and groanin' about what this squirrel did that made me think she - the peep, that is - could benefit from a good stiff, nipped-up drink.

MOUSES!

Now in retrospect, this incident does explain one thing.

No, not the fact that neither Mason nor Andy are cat enough to go after a squirrel.  Believe me, there's NO explainin' that.

No, the incident explains...

The definite lack of strawberries, this year, for the peep.

MOUSES!

don't look at me

Don't look at me, Peepers.  I always use the litter box.

And when I say always, I mean, always.  Like in... All the time.  Like... ALWAYS.

Okay, so there was that one time.

But I'm pretty sure we both agreed when it happened, it was total accident, for sure.

Boy oh boy, I'm NEVER gonna live that one down.  MOUSES!

But speakin' of litter boxes, I've never seen you use a box, Peepers.  You sure it wasn't you who did the dirty deed?  Are you sure it wasn't you who went and pooped in amongst the primroses? MOUSES!

Yeah, yeah...  So you say.

But then, you're always sayin' stuff, Peepers.

Truth be told, I never listen to half the things you say.  I never listen to the other half, either. MOUSES!

But back to the poopin' amongst the primroses.  Seriously, it wasn't me.  I, Seville the Cat, did not dig up those baby primrose plants.  I wouldn't dream of doin' such a thing for I, Seville the Cat, am a gentleman cat, for sure.  MOUSES!

You know...  it might have been the neighbours.

WHY NOT?

Oh sure, you think nothin' of blamin' me, your friendly handsome bloggin' marmalade cat with whom you share a computer, but you won't even consider blamin' the neighbours?  MOUSES!

Well let me ask you this, Peepers.  Have you ever seen the neighbours usin' a litter box?  Huh? HUH?  Well have you?  'Cause maybe there's a reason for that.  Maybe it's 'cause they're sneakin' into the garden, late at night, to do their business in amongst the baby primroses and....

Okay, maybe that is a bit far fetched.

Or not.

MOUSES!

Well...  If it's not the neighbours, that brings us back to YOU.

Hey, you were the one not willin' to blame the peeps livin' next door. MOUSES!

I'm thinkin'...  I'm thinkin' it was you, Peepers, who dug up those baby primrose plants, and you're now makin' a big ol' fuss of accusin' me - a cat who has ONLY EVER ONCE not used the litter box...

Okay, so there was that one other time, too.  But that was an accident as well.  MOUSES!

Anyway, like I said, I'm thinkin' it was you, Peepers, who dug up those primrose plants while doin' your business out in the garden.  And NOW you're pointin' a paw at me, in a feeble-minded attempt to take the blame away from you.

Typical peep behaviour, for sure.  MOUSES!

And when one takes into account the fact that you've never been seen usin' the litter boxes...

FYI, I'd just like to take a moment here to point out that we cats would like for you to continue NOT usin' our litter boxes, but nevertheless...

When one takes into account the fact that you've never been seen usin' the litter boxes, it's PERFECTLY REASONABLE to assume that the entity who dug up the primroses while doin' their business was you.  MOUSES!

You're still denyin' it, huh?  MOUSES!

All I know is, it wasn't me.

And you claim it wasn't you.

And if it wasn't the neighbours....

Could it have been...  Aliens?

Nah, it's a well-known fact that aliens carry litter boxes in their spaceships. Believe-you-me, no one wants to be searchin' for a clean rest stop half-way to Pluto.  Know what I mean?

So if it wasn't aliens...

Hmmm...

Sorry Peepers, but it looks like we're back to blamin' you.

And whatever you do, DON'T EVEN THINK 'bout poopin' anywhere near my nip plants.    MOUSES!

another one bites the dust

IT RAINED!  And not a moment too soon. Perhaps you had heard? Another one bit the dust.

Oh yeah...

And another one gone, and another one gone. Another one bites the dust.  Yup, do do do do do.  Don't know any more lyrics...  Oohhh...  do do do.

ANYWAY...  As I was sayin', another one bit the dust.

Now I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin'...  Why isn't that Seville the Cat a rock star like the peeps in Queen or somethin'?

You mean you're not thinkin' that?  Awww...  MOUSES!

Seriously though, you're probably thinkin' how it must be super dusty 'round here as it hasn't rained in almost three weeks and there have been forest fires blazin' out of control.  And if you are thinkin' that, well..  You'd be right on that account, for sure.

But even though the ground is really sandy and yes, DUSTY as all get out, it was not the ground that bit the dust.  No sirree.  It was the...

Can you guess?

No?

Okay, I'll tell you.

It was the sprinkler.

Now this was not the first sprinkler to bite the dust this year.  Nope.  Peep #1 is on sprinkler number three.  MOUSES!

And it's only mid-August.  MOUSES!

Yup, Peep #1 goes through sprinklers like some peeps go through...  underwear?  Okay, maybe not as frequently as that but still, three sprinklers in one summer...  Well that's gotta be a record, I should think..

If there were an Olympic medal offered for destroyin' sprinklers, Peep #1 would be winnin' gold, for sure.  MOUSES!

I really don't know how she does it.  Really, I don't.

Last year, she only went through two sprinklers. Needless to say, she never leaves the sprinkler out overnight anymore.  Last year, some rocky raccoon went and sat on it or somethin' and practically snapped the plastic bits in two, 'cause you know... He was a little on the heavy side.

Well that's the story we're goin' with, anyway, although many people are saying, there was a long-haired marmalade lad spotted sittin' in the general vicinity of the sprinkler one night, immediately prior to said sprinkler's demise.  MOUSES!

Anyway...

Anyway, this year, there were no rocky raccoons or long-haired marmies spotted sittin' on any sprinklers 'cause like I said, Peep #1 no longer leaves the sprinkler out overnight.

But she still breaks 'em!  And that, my friends, is for sure.  MOUSES!

We started out the season with sprinkler number one and everythin' was goin' hunky dory until one day, it kinda blew up.  Yup, it's true.  The end of it blew right off where it was supposed to be, and the next thing we knew, the sprinkler was spewing out a torrent of water out its side.

And the peep was spewing steam outta her ears!  MOUSES!

Actually, the peep and sprinkler number one resembled one another more than you might think was even possible.  Hmmm...  MOUSES!

Enter sprinkler number two, stage right.

Well just the other day, Peep #1 set sprinkler number two to sprinkle but...  But it was refusin' to sprinkle back and forth.  It just kinda stayed in one spot.

Now I know from personal experience to always watch from a safe distance, when the peep is havin' sprinkler issues, so watch from a safe distance is just what I did.

The peep fiddled with sprinkler number two for a bit and finally got it to move but it wasn't goin' all the way back and forth.  Just kinda half-way back and forth, and it didn't do even that for very long. Five minutes later, it stopped entirely.  It was sprayin' water out at a forty-five degree angle but the peep wanted it to do a full one-eighty.

Well..  Well that's when the peep fiddled with sprinkler number two a bit more and then...

Let's just say, I'm glad I was watchin' from a safe distance.

Next thing I knew, Peep #1 was bein' blasted with water...  RIGHT IN THE FACE!

Oh, you should have seen her.  Remember how she had steam blowin' out her ears after the demise of sprinkler number one?  Well same thing after sprinkler number two, too.  Of course, this time, she was a much soggier peep, for sure.  MOUSES!

And you should have heard her yell mouses!  Maybe you did.  MOUSES!

So now we've moved onto sprinkler number three.

So far, so good.  No blowing itself up or parts of it blowing off or anything like that.  And no steam blowin' out the peep's ears.  No irate cries of MOUSES!, either.

Of course, sprinkler number three has not been around for very long.  She has only had it for a couple days.  Give it time.  Give it time...

But for today, there will be no sprinklin' with sprinklers 'cause like I said earlier, last night, IT RAINED!  MOUSES!

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

I just wanna add that Peep #1 only uses the sprinkler when she absolutely has to, to prevent the trees and plants in the garden from dyin'.  And most of our lawn isn't really grass.  No, there are more violets than grass 'cause they seem more drought resistant and have flowers each May for the bees.  And when she is usin' the sprinkler, it's hooked up to the sand-point (instead of the drilled well), that draws water from the water table that sometimes floods our basement in the spring 'cause it's too high for our house - or probably our house it too low for it - so really, by usin' that water now, maybe we'll have a dry basement next year.  MOUSES!

a helpin' paw

Of all the ungrateful, unappreciative...

MOUSES!

Hey there kitties.  Do you have problems with your peeps not appreciating you?  Not appreciating when you help 'em and stuff?  You know, when you lend 'em a helpin' paw?

Are your peeps constantly underestimating the value of your assistance?

Do your peeps recognize when you're bein' helpful and say, thank you very much, kind Sir, or...

...Or do they behave like mine.  MOUSES!

My peeps are the most ungrateful, unappreciative peeps there ever were.  I swear!  Yup, if there were ever a contest for ungratefulness and all-round lack of appreciation, my peeps would win said contest, PAWS DOWN.  Well hands down, I suppose, as they have hands instead of paws, but you get the idea, I am sure.  MOUSES!

Why just the other day, I was bein' ever-so-helpful, and started work on those pansies growin' along the side of the driveway.  With the heat and everythin' of the last few weeks, they've been lookin' pretty shabby.  Actually, shabby is a bit of an understatement.  Half-dead is more like it.  For some stupid reason, Peep #1 forgot that when it's super hot out, and doesn't rain much, you've gotta water the pansies.

NO, I did not quench their thirst by peein' on 'em.

I started digging 'em up.  MOUSES!

Anyway, you should have heard the words the peep used.  Mouses this and mouses that.  I could barely get a word in edgewise!  Like I said, I have super ungrateful and unappreciative peeps.

And it's not like she doesn't have more pansy babies waitin' to take their place.  I mean, she has a whole tray of 'em!  But she can't plant 'em out until the old, half-dead ones are removed, so you see my friends, by diggin' up those plants, I was HELPIN' the peep out, for sure.

In fact, if you think about it, I did all the hard work.  Plantin' is easy.  Diggin' 'em up?  In this heat? Not so much.

I'll write up a bill for her in the morning.  MOUSES!

Now I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin', Poor Seville.  Imagine havin' to live with a peep like that Peep #1.  Imagine having to put up with such ungratefulness and stuff.  Yes, I know you're all thinkin' that and I want you to know, I appreciate it very much.

But you know somethin'?

IT GETS EVEN WORSE!

Just the other morning, around dawn...

Well I think it was around dawn.  I'm sure I heard a birdie or two singing, although the sun could barely be seen.

Anyway, the other morning around dawn, I realized that at that time of day, it was still nice and cool outside and I thought to myself, what a great time of day this would be to take a little stroll around the yard.

Problem was, Peep #1's alarm clock had not get gone off.  I think it was broken or somethin'. MOUSES!

So I, Seville the Cat, being the ever-so-helpful cat that I am, gave Peep #1 a gentle little nudge on her face, with my paw.

Now it's NOT MY fault, my gentle little nudge didn't wake her up 'cause she had been up late the night before.  Not my fault at all.

So I gave her a whack.  Well that did it, for sure.

Did I mention it was already dawn?  Well almost.  Well I think almost dawn.

Did I mention I think I heard a birdie singing?

NO, not an owl hooting.  A birdie.  The kind that sing in the wee hours of the mornin'.  MOUSES!

I should also mention somethin' else.  About this singing...  About this singing I thought I heard a birdie doing.  That singing was NOT what the peep sounded like at all.  I believe, if I am not mistaken, I heard the word mouses.  MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, Peep #1 didn't get up.  Instead, she rolled over and told me to go back to bed.  Back to bed?  Why would I go back to bed when it was already time to get up?

A kitty helpin' out a peep by actin' like her alarm clock, 'cause hers is OBVIOUSLY broken, deserves a thank you at the very least and certainly does NOT deserve a Go back to bed Sivvers because I'm not letting you out until morning.

Did I mention 'bout that birdie I thought I heard singing?  Clearly it was gettin' ready to be dawn.

I should write up a bill for acting as her alarm clock, too.  Maybe if she sees it in writing, she'll learn to be a little more appreciative.  MOUSES!

But wait.  THERE'S MORE.

The other day, I accidentally knocked some stuff off the nightstand.  Well that's what the peep said. Really...

Really, I was dusting.

Like seriously, does the woman not know which end of the duster to use?  I mean...  REALLY?

Look, truth is, the nightstand looked a little dusty and I said to myself, Seville, be a nice kitty and dust off the top of that nightstand.  Peep #1 will say thank you, for sure.  So I got right to work and BY ACCIDENT, the alarm clock...

MOUSES!  I bet that's why that ol' alarm clock didn't go off the other morning.  I was right.  It IS broken, for sure.

Anyway, I got right to work dusting, and the next thing I knew...

The next thing I knew, I heard the peep sayin' somethin' about mouses again.  I mean, mice.  No, I mean mouses, for sure.  MOUSES!

But my point is this.  Peep #1 was ungrateful and unappreciative, and that, my friends, is puttin' it mildly.

Anyone know how much peeps charge for dusting 'cause I'm thinkin' I should write up a bill for my dusting work, too. MOUSES!

sometimes I wonder about my peep

The night before last, I was out in the backyard when this strange and unfamiliar smell hit me like a tonne of bricks.  A TONNE of bricks, I tell you!

I know what you're thinking.  You're thinking that my brother Anderson - A.K.A. Mr. Stinkybums - was approaching.  Nope, wrong kind of smell for that.  Besides, Mr. Stinkybums is Mr. Stinkybums no longer. Andy visited the groomer yesterday and had a bath. MOUSES!

No, what I was smelling was more of a flowery scent.  Truth be told, it was kind of pretty but way too strong.  It was everywhere.  Try as I might, I couldn't escape it.  The scent was permeating every inch of the garden.  There was nowhere to hide from the smell.  Nowhere to hide at all!

Which, by the way, is how the peeps had been feeling about Mr. Stinkybums prior to his having a bath.  MOUSES!

I immediately thought to myself, Peep #1 must have put on too much perfume...  AGAIN. MOUSES!

"Oh Peepers..." I cried.  "You're not supposed to use a whole bottle of the stinky stuff all at once," I informed her.  "You're supposed to just dab on a little bit here and a little bit there.  Or maybe spray - ONCE - into the air and walk into it."  That's when I realised what she must have done.  The peep must have sprayed an entire bottle of the stinky stuff all over the entire yard and then walked into it. I'm telling you, sometimes I wonder about my peep.

Of course, Peep #1 denied having used an entire bottle of stinky stuff but my nose was telling me otherwise.

"Then what is that smell I'm smelling?" I demanded of the peep.  The answer was not at all what I expected.  Apparently, the linden tree was in full bloom and the smell was coming from its flowers. And I wasn't the only one smelling them, either.  I'm pretty sure they could smell them down at the other end of the street, too.  After all, I was smelling the flowers while in the backyard and the linden tree was in the front.  Like I said before, the smell was everywhere.

I headed off into the front yard at a trot.  I needed to see for myself what was going on with that blooming tree.  MOUSES!

The linden was abuzz with activity.  There were bees everywhere.  Little honeybees and big fat bumblebees, too.  It was interesting listening to them.  A real cacophony of sound, for sure.

Oohhh..  That reminds me!  On Saturday, the peep discovered a wasps' nest in the garden but I'm saving that story for another blog post because in this post, I have to tell you what happened as I was investigating the linden tree.

There I was, listening to the cacophony of buzzing bees, when I started hearing weird noises.  Oofs and oafs and that sort of thing.  Moans and groans, too. You know, peep sounds.

Sure enough, there was Peep #1 walking across the lawn with the garden hose trailing behind her.  Every now and then, she'd stop and utter an oof or an oaf. There were a few other words uttered, too, however as Nerissa's Life is a family-friendly blog, they're not fit to print.  MOUSES!

Now I'll never understand why but according to what I witnessed, at some point during the last few days, a mysterious stranger must have come into our garden and tied the garden hose into knots.  I'm assuming that Peep #1 didn't do it.  I mean, why would she? But the evidence was right before me.  The garden hose was actually tied in knots!  Two of them, I do believe.

Seriously, how does that happen?  You drag it here and you drag it there but unless you deliberately make a loop and pull one end of the hose through that loop, it shouldn't get into knots.  Should it?  I don't know for sure but I do know there were knots.  Thus, the unpublishable words being uttered by the peep.

Anyway, after untying the hundred feet of knotted hose, the peep eventually made it over to the far end of the garden where she wanted to set up shop.  Well, set up the hose, that is.

Now you might be thinking that the knotted hose bit was the highlight of my evening but if you are, you'd be wrong about that.  The highlight of the evening was yet to come.

The peep attached the sprinkler to the hose and set it in the middle of the path that leads through her little shade garden.  She seemed to be having trouble getting the sprinkler to lie flat. Undeterred, she went ahead and turned it on, anyway.  That's when the real fun began.

When the peep returned to inspect her handiwork, she discovered that the sprinkler wasn't sprinkling at all.  Instead, it was standing up on its side, forcing jet streams of water down the path and little bits of pine needles were being tossed up into the air as the sprinkler did it's magical balancing act. For a moment there, I thought I was watching something from Harry Potter.  MOUSES!

The peep headed on down the garden path to try to sort the sprinkler.  She lifted it up and WHOOSH!  There was sprinkler water all over the peep.  MOUSES!

Then she tried to outsmart the sprinkler which, you would think, would be possible on account of the sprinkler not having a brain but...  Well...  Apparently not.  At least not for my peep.

At one point, there she was, standing in the middle of the path, holding the sprinkler in her paws and moving it about, trying to aim the water away from her.  "You going to stand there all night?" I asked the peep.  Her answer was, of course, unpublishable.  MOUSES!

"Hold on, Peepers!  Stay there.  I'll be right back!" I cried as I headed inside to grab some soap and shampoo for her. As I was not yet fully convinced one little linden tree could produce that much...  smell, I figured Ol' Peepers could take the opportunity of the wayward sprinkler to have a bath.

Returning with a bottle of shampoo, I discovered the peep still standing in the garden and holding the sprinkler but now doing a little dance.  I've heard of rain dances before but sprinkler dances?  This was something new.

There was water everywhere.  She was aiming the sprinkler this way and that way.  Pretty much every way.  There was water spewing in every direction, including upwards and yes, as what goes up must come down, the peep had clearly been sprinkled upon, too.  "Uh, you could just turn the water off, Peepers, and then sort the sprinkler," I suggested but due to her cries of dismay and disbelief that even HBO wouldn't touch with a hundred foot hose, my suggestion went unheard.

I peered down the garden path and saw that where there had once been a smooth path of pine needles, there were now ruts where the sprinkler had etched out long cracks.  So that's how the Grand Canyon was formed, I thought to myself.  Interesting....

"Oh Peepers...  Did they not teach you how to use a garden hose when you went to school?  No hose management courses?  You did go to school, didn't you?  Did you pass?  ARE YOU SURE?" My questions went unanswered.  Clearly, Peep #1 was ignoring me.

The next thing I knew, the peep started to unloosen the hose from the sprinkler.  I closed my eyes. I had this sinking feeling.  I couldn't watch.  This could not be good.

Then, lo and behold, the commotion stopped.

Momentarily.

Peep #1 came RUNNING down the garden path like a bat out of you-know-where.  She ran, practically leaping right over me.  I saw what she was evading.  What she found to be so terrifying. I saw it and turned tail, myself.  Not that the peep has a tail to turn, mind you, but...  But the sprinkler was now sprinkling and the water was heading MY way!!!

I don't know why the peep even bothered.  She was already pretty much soaked, head to foot.  I, on the other paw, had no intention of getting wet.

From what I could tell, by loosening the hose from the sprinkler ever-so-slightly, the sprinkler had become cooperative and agreed to lie flat on the ground.  Once in this prostrate position, it started sprinkling like all good sprinklers should.

After flicking some sprinkler water from the end of my tail, I picked up the unused bottle of shampoo in my mouth and headed back inside for I am not a littering kind of kitty, if you know what I mean.  Kitty litter, yes.  Littering kitty, no.

What's that Peepers?  I shouldn't be telling tails?  I mean, tales?  But all that was true, Peepers!  I'm not telling tales, at all.  What?  FINE.

Peep #1 tells me I have to admit that I didn't really bring out a bottle of shampoo for her but...  BUT ALL THE REST IS TRUE!  Every word about the linden tree and the unmanageable hose and my peep's failure to manage said hose are all, absolutely true.  Only part of this post that isn't true is the part about my getting the bottle of shampoo and truth be told, it's kind of a shame as I'm still not convinced Peep #1 didn't put on too much perfume after all.  I mean, really.  One little tree producing that much scent?  IMPOSSIBLE, for sure.  MOUSES!

the royal visit

So Prince Charles and the Duchess of Cornwall were visiting Nova Scotia on the weekend.  I didn't get to meet 'em though.  Apparently, my invitation was lost in the mail.  MOUSES!

Anywho...  I watched Charles and Camilla for a bit on television and saw that they, just as I, enjoy an occasional walkabout.  It's true.  They did a walkabout around parts of Halifax and whatnot just like I do walkabouts in my very own garden.  You know what they say.  They say, great minds think alike and obviously, great minds enjoy the occasional walkabout, too.

After watchin' the Royals doin' their walkabout, I figured I should do one of my own.  I asked Peep #1 if she'd like to join me but she was busy doin' somethin' silly so I went outside by myself.  I headed out the window and proceeded to do a leisurely inspection of the garden.

At some point durin' said walkabout, I decided to jump up onto the car.  There's a nice vantage point from the top of that car and, more importantly, its powdery blue colour sets off the sparkle in my sterling silver - some say platinum - coat, quite nicely.  Let's just say, I look really good sittin' on that car.

But once up there, I found evidence of a crime I most certainly did not want to find.  A scratch?  No, worse.  A dent?  Nope, even worse than that.  What pray tell did I find, you ask?  I found...  BIRD DROPPINGS.  That's right.  I found a couple of big ol' white splotches that were clearly left behind by one or more birds.  MOUSES!

I looked this way and that way.  Then I looked that way and this way.  Finally, I looked way, way up.  There was nothin' to see in any of those directions.  Nothin' to see at all.

Then I heard, off in the distance, the roar of one of those noisy metal birds.  You know, a plane.  There's an air force base not too far from here and sometimes, my garden appears to be in the flight path of the planes landin' and takin' off there.  I thought about it for a bit but figured a metal bird probably wouldn't leave droppings such as those I had discovered on the car.  Unless, of course, someone had gone in to use the loo on that plane and...   Nah...  I don't think that kind of thing can happen.  I hope that kind of thing can't happen.  MOUSES!

No, I studied the situation and realised that the bird or birds who had dropped those droppings must be of a non-metallic nature.  In other words, the type of birds who hang out in my garden.

I immediately ruled out the chickadees, goldfinches and hummingbirds.  Those are all wee little birds and, quite frankly, these were BIG droppings.  Hmmm....  MOUSES!

I sat there on that car, contemplating all there was to contemplate.  Birds...  droppings...  flight path. I stared ahead at the big ol' oak tree in the back yard.  Then I glanced over my shoulder and stared at the big ol' oak tree at the end of my driveway in the front yard.  Suddenly, I had my answer. MOUSES!

I immediately raced inside the house to tell the peep what I had discovered.  I knew she would want to hear about my findings.  I had made the discovery of the century!  Okay... FINE.  The discovery of late last Sunday afternoon but a discovery, nonetheless.

I had discovered that our car was sittin' right in middle of a flight path.  It was right in the middle of the flight path of the local troupe of actors who regularly perform in The Crow Show right there in my garden.  Their stage is the big ol' oak tree in my back yard.  They perform matinees there, daily. Sometimes even a double-feature.  But one of their mornin' rehearsal areas is the big ol' oak tree at the end of the driveway in the front yard.  If one were to draw an imaginary line between those two big oak trees, one would reveal the acting troupe's flight path and one would find that, lo and behold, that flight path flies immediately above where the car sits.

What to do...   What to do...  I asked the peep if we could move the stage area for The Crow Show but she said no.   I asked her about movin' the crows' rehearsal area and again was told no.  Then I asked her 'bout movin' the driveway itself.  Once more, I heard the word no.

"But I could always move the car," the peep said.

"Nah," I answered.  "I have a better idea.  How 'bout someone just gets out there and gives the car a good ol' wash.  Perhaps one of my minions," I suggested, "and by minion, I mean you."  I looked pointedly at the peep to make sure she understood.

Turnin' away from Peep #1, I headed back outside to complete my walkabout and ponder the important things in life.  The important things in life such as...  Why the mouses did I not get an invite to meet with Charles and Camilla when they were visitin' Nova Scotia?  Why? WHY?

Clearly, my invitation really had been lost somewhere in the mail.  There is simply no other reasonable explanation.  No other reasonable explanation at all.  MOUSES!

a four-letter word

I need a four-letter word.  Hmmm...

Anybody know a four-letter word for ingrate?  I know one.  PEEP!

Let me explain...

A few days ago, Ol' Peepers was out in the garden, unsupervised.  I know. Never a good thing but I had some power nappin' to do.  I needed to catch up on some naps on account of my havin' missed some of 'em with all the hard work I had been puttin' into my blogging.

Anywho...  the peep was potting up some strawberry plants and I figured she could do that on her own.  I mean, just how difficult is it to take the plants from the smaller pots and replant them into the bigger ones?  How can you go wrong with somethin' as simple as that?  Little did I know...

Apparently, there were some dead outer leaves on many of the strawberry plants and Peepers wanted to snip them all away.  So snip, snip, snip she went until...  until she got a little to close to one of her fingers with those secateurs and...  SNIP!  Yup, right through the skin.  There was blood everywhere.

Don't worry!  The peep still has all of her fingers.  She'll survive.  In fact, the wound has almost completely healed up already but there really was blood everywhere.  She made a right ol' bloody mess, she did.  MOUSES!

She said it hurt, too.  She said it hurt a lot but I'm not sure how much I believe her 'bout that 'cause although she made quite a bit of fuss, she wasn't really nearly as fussy as some of us cats have been known to be at the doctor's office.  I kind of think she was exaggerating a little bit.

But exaggerating or not and even though she did wake me up from my power nappin' session, I felt a little guilty for havin' allowed Peep #1 to be out there in the garden all alone, unsupervised, in the first place.  She really does need constant supervision and this little incident is clearly evidence of that fact.

So as I was feelin' guilty, I decided to give the peep a little prezzie.  You know...  to make her feel better and whatnot.

I searched and I searched and I searched for the perfect prezzie for the peep and finally, I found it.  I trotted right up to Ol' Peepers, gently carrying her prezzie in my mouth.  I set down in front of her, waitin' for her to thank me and maybe even tell me how thoughtful I was for thinkin' of her and bringing her such a wonderful gift.

Well the peep took one look at that snake hangin' from my mouth and told me to let it go.  "LET IT GO?  You know how long it took me to find the darned thing in the first place?" I cried.

That, of course, was my mistake 'cause when I opened my mouth to express my frustration with the peep's lack of gratitude, the snake dropped to the ground and slithered away.  I tried to catch it again but it got in amongst some plant pots and if you could believe it, the peep picked me up and took me away from them to allow the snake to escape.  MOUSES!

I decided that the peep must be a little delusional or somethin' on account of havin' lost all that blood when she snipped her finger.  She simply wasn't thinkin' straight.  So I forgave her and immediately went in search of another snake.

Half an hour later or so, I found one.  This was one even bigger than the last.  Jackpot!  I promptly presented the peep with her new prezzie but this time, was very careful not to open my mouth and let it go until I knew the peep was gonna appreciate my gift to her.

She approached me as I held the snake.  I backed away.  She approached me again, sayin' somethin' about lettin' the snake go.  Clearly, she was still sufferin' from her major blood loss and was not to be trusted in her obviously light-headed condition.  I turned and trotted away to the front yard, intent on holdin' onto the snake until the peep had come to her senses.

Of course, bein' a peep, she followed me.  Not only did she follow me but eventually she even caught up with me, picked me up and got me to release the snake.  Then she took said snake and put it in the brush pile where it would be safe from us cats.  MOUSES!

Of all the ungrateful, unappreciative and thankless things to do.  Again I say...  MOUSES!

Those two snakes I found for the peep were green snakes. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find green snakes hiding in the green grass?  Or the green violets?  Or the green anything?  THEY'RE ALL GREEN for mousin' out loud! They blend right in.  Findin' two of 'em in one day was quite the achievement and what does the peep do?  SHE RELEASES 'EM BACK INTO THE WILD!

Next time I want to give the peep a prezzie, I'm gonna give her a mouse.  Dead.  Not alive.  One she can't try to save. Perhaps with a little nip sauce served on the side...