you probably remember

You probably remember...

If you're good at rememberin' things...

How I told you 'bout the annexation of part of the peep's garden, for the expansion of my catnip plantation, earlier this year.

MOUSES!

Well, the thing is...

I know, I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin' Peepers has gone and done the unthinkable and dug up my nip plants, for sure.

But thankfully, if that's what you're thinkin'...

You would be wrong.

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, Saffy and I were out in the garden yesterday, with Peep #1.  Peepers was busyin' herself, plantin' stupid flowers and whatnot, whilst I supervised.  Then all of a sudden...

All of a sudden...

All of a sudden, Saffy wandered off and started goin' all kinda weird and definitely wild.

I'm tellin' you, my pals, that cat was goin' bonkers, for sure.

MOUSES!

Of course, when I realised he was over by my nip plantation expansion annexation, I started goin' a bit bonkers, myself.  Had Peepers killed my nip babies with kindness?  Had I killed 'em with neglect?

'Cause truth be told, I had sorta forgotten 'bout that new bed of catnip plants I was growin' out there.  

Had somethin' or other - or someone - come along and dug 'em all up?

Had...

Had...

HAD THE WEASEL SYNDICATE STARTED AN ILLEGAL HARVESTATION AND DESCIMATED THE BED?

My mind was runnin' in circles.  Runnin' in circles like a cat chasin' his tail.

MOUSES!

I know...   I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin', "I wish Seville would get to the point and stop keepin' us in all this horrible suspense."

Well, I'm gettin' there.

Keep your tails on, my friends.

MOUSES!

So off I went to check out the nip plants, my heart full of fear, panic, and dread.

AND THAT'S WHEN I DISCOVERED the real reason Saffy was behavin' like a cat...

Well...

Well, like a cat nipped as nipped as a cat can possibly get.

MOUSES!

That's right, my dear friends.  That's right!  Saffy wasn't behavin' wildly 'cause he was upset or anythin' like that.  He was gettin' all wild 'cause all that nip had really gone to his head!

My newly annexed expansion to my nip plantation is an absolute TOTAL success.  The ENTIRE BED is filled to the brim with nip plants, spreadin' like butter on hot bread.  The soil is almost invisible, my friends.  INVISIBLE, to be sure!  This year's crop is gonna be the best harvest this cat has seen in all his nine lives, yet.

And there'll be none of those pesky chamomile or borage or calendula plants the peep grew in there last year, my friends.  Nothin' but nip plants in my new sixteen square foot bed.  It's gonna be the bestest in the westest - actually, north-easted -  most glorious garden any peep or cat could possibly get.

MOUSES!

And don't tell anyone, but I'm thinkin' of expandin' my plantation once more.  I see the peep has a raised bed next to mine, filled with stupid poppies and stuff, and I'm thinkin'...

I'm thinkin'...

I'm thinkin', a few nip seeds strategically planted in that bed, this fall, and I can annex that one, as well.

I'M EXPANDIN' MY EMPIRE, for sure.

As ONLY A CAT, with previously negotiated cat-peep property rights, can legally and ethically do.

MOUSES!

play stupid games...

Not my fault.

I said, it's not my fault.

And I repeat myself once more: IT'S NOT MY FAULT.

MOUSES!

I know, I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin', it's never my fault.  And you know somethin', my friends?

YOU WOULD BE RIGHT.

'Cause bad stuff never is my fault.  And as for when good stuff happens, believe-you-me, you'll hear me takin' credit for it before you even know it's happened.

MOUSES!

But anyway...

But anyway, methinks I should explain.

Okay, so last night, Peepers came into my office without botherin' to turn on the light.  I wasn't in the office at the time but moments after her intrusion, I did hear her cry out, "MOUSES!"

Or somethin' like that.

Then the next thing I knew, the lights were all on and she had brought out the broom.

'Cause you see...

'Cause you see, about a week or so back, Peepers had filled a couple plant trays with pottin' mix and set 'em on the floor next to where she plants seeds and pots up stuff and whatnot.  She was gonna use 'em later that day.  But when later that day arrived, she changed her mind, decidin' to plant what she was plantin' in proper pots, instead.  The trays were pushed aside, and left on the floor.

Her new plan was to empty out the trays with the pottin' mix into the compost bin, but it's been kinda rainy and wet all week, sometimes pretty chilly, and sometimes milder but still miserable, so... 

So said trays of pottin' mix stayed on the floor.

Like I said, she had pushed 'em to the side, outta the way.  But then yesterday mornin', Peepers needed somethin' or other outta the cupboard behind where those trays had been sittin'.  So she moved 'em over a bit.

Well!

Well surprise, surprise, Peepers: Play stupid games and you know what you get.

MOUSES!

That's right, Peepers was playin' stupid peep games when walkin' into my office without turnin' on the light.  It's not like she's a cat, you know.  We cats have superior night time vision.  Peeps don't.

So...

So the one tray that was sittin' on top of the other, got knocked over when she practically stepped on 'em both, and pottin' soil - 'cause after a week it had all dried out - got scattered all over the floor.

MOUSES!

Luckily for the peep, the part of the floor where it all landed was the uncarpeted bit.  Then out came the broom, and before anyone knew it, everythin' was swept right up.

Into a nice little pile.

Kinda in the middle of the room.

Now as late as it was, and totally dark outside, Peepers knew she had to get rid of that mess the next mornin'.  I mean, it wouldn't do for her to get lost out in the dark, headin' over to the compost bin.  Remember, as a peep, she has inferior night vision.

MOUSES!

But sometime overnight...

Sometime overnight, either Saffron or me, mightta kinda walked right through that ol' pile of dried up pottin' mix.

Walked...  Ran...  Jumped up and about in...  Whatever.

MOUSES!

Bottom line is, this mornin' there was dried up pottin' mix ALL OVER the place, includin' the carpet on the other side of the room.

But like I said before, IT'S NOT MY FAULT.

First of all, I'm not even sayin' they were my paws that messed everythin' up.  I really do think it was Saffron.  But secondly, neither one of US left the pile of dirt just sittin' there, ASKIN' to be tossed all about.

That, my dear pals, was Peepers.

So ipso, facto, defuncto:  THE FAULT IS ALL HERS.

MOUSES!

And remember, you can now find me on Bluesky, where the skies are friendly, sunny, and blue.  Just search for Seville the Cat or @nerissathecat 'cause that, my friends, is where I'm now at.

MOUSES!

and speakin' of flittin'....

And speakin' of flittin'...

Okay, I guess that for some of you, that kinda came out of the blue.  But if you remember, I've started flittin' over on Bluesky.

Flittin'...  Skeetin'...  Whatever.

MOUSES!

But anyway...

But anyway, like I was sayin', I've been flittin' like a butterfly over on Bluesky.

'Cept, of course, I'm a keyboard flitter and not an actual flitter, on account of my not havin' butterfly wings.

'Cause as you all know, I am a cat.

MOUSES!

But all this talk of butterflies flittin' and stuff, reminded me how in the summer, there were butterflies flittin' here and there, amongst my nip plants.

They - the butterflies, I mean - do seem to like spendin' time with the catnip, as do the bees, although I've never seen any of 'em actually nipped.

I don't think.

MOUSES!

Although truth be told, once I get into the catnip, myself, I might not be able to tell.

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, I thought I should tell you what Peepers gave me the other week.

No, not my Bluesky account.  YES, she did open that up.  But today I'm gonna tell you 'bout somethin' ELSE she gave me, as well.

Are you ready?  Are you sittin' down?

Peepers gave me...

A nip bed.

MOUSES!

No, a nip bed is not a knitted or sewn bed stuffed to the brim with catnip.

Although now that I think about it, a knitted or sewn bed stuffed to the brim with the nip would be grand.  I'll have to mention that to the peep.

Or Santa.

Or anyone else who might be listenin'.

MOUSES!

But back to the subject at paw: Peepers has given me one of her new raised beds so that I can grow even more of the nip.  And the best part is, it's filled with catnip already!  Yup, there are dozens of the little nippers (pun intended) already growin' there.

MOUSES!

You see, last year, Peepers built and filled some new raised beds.  Three of 'em were sixteen square paws, whatever that means.  And one of those sixteen square paw beds JUST HAPPENED to end up with some catnip seed gettin' ACCIDENTALLY scattered 'mongst the calendula and borage and stuff.

Well...

Well the  ACCIDENTALLY scattered nip seeds started - unbeknownst to the peep - to grow.

Then a couple weeks back, Peepers was preppin' her beds for the winter and realised gettin' rid of all those nip plants, whose roots are now well and truly established - on account of my havin' tended those plants I ACCIDENTALY planted, with such tender lovin' care - was just too time consumin' to do.

Or somethin' like that.

So now...

So now, Peepers has GIVEN the whole bed to Saffy and me.

Can you believe it?

MOUSES!

Yup, my catnip plantation is expandin', for sure.

I am gonna be so nipped, ALL of next year.

MOUSES!

And remember, you can now find me over on Bluesky.  I'm easy to find.  Just search for Seville the Cat or @nerissathecat 'cause that, my dear pals, is where I'm now at.

MOUSES!

oh dear...

Oh dear...

Oh dearie, dearie me...

Oh dear!

Wait a minute.  Just hold on, there...

Dear?

Nope, that is not correct.  It's deer.

Better.

MOUSES!

I know, I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin' those deer have been munchin' on the peep's roses again.

Well, I'm sure they would if they could, but they can't 'cause they've already eaten all of those.

MOUSES!

Yup, we've had deer.  We've probably had deer all spring and all summer long.  First they ate all the tulips.  Then they ate the roses.  Oh, and they ate Peepers' broccolini, too.

Who the mouses wants to eat broccolini?  It tastes kinda like broccoli, you know.  And who the mouses wants to eat THAT?

Apparently, deer do.

MOUSES!

But even though those deer were usin' my yard as an all-you-can-eat buffet all summer long...

And even though we found the damage they did, over and over again...

We never once saw any deer.

I had almost convinced the ol' peep it wasn't deer eatin' her stuff, but rather little green aliens from outer space.

Almost.

I was THIS close to convincin' her of that.

'Til one day last week...

WHEN SHE ACTUALLY SAW DEER.

Right there in my backyard!

MOUSES!

Yup, a mama and two babies.  Yup, a mama deer and her two babies were right out there in my backyard.

Well, not exactly babies.  Probably the equivalent of teens.

Twin teens.  TWINS!

I bet that mama was sayin' oh dear.

MOUSES!

And in other news, Peepers' daffy down dilly bulbs arrived yesterday in the mail.  She's gonna plant 'em where she planted tulips, last fall.

Bet they won't wanna eat those.

The daffies, I mean.

But they sure did enjoy eatin' the tulips.

MOUSES!

the hypocrisy of peeps

Whatcha doin' there, Peepers?  Just what is it that you're doin'?

Actually...

Actually, now that I think about it, it's probably best you don't answer.  You know, pretend like you're pleadin' the fifth.  And I say pretend, on account of us not havin' that fifth pleadin' thing around here.

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

I read.  I watch TV.  And some of it's even Canadian.

WHICH IS WHY I know all about all of these things.  I know all about how you can and cannot avoid self-incrimination, dependin' upon your locale.

Locale.  It means...

Oohhhh...  So Peepers knows what the word locale means.

Fancy.  

Schmancy.

Not.

MOUSES!

But now let's get back to this mess.

Yes, Peepers, mess.  Mess.  That's one right ol' mess you've got there.

WHICH IS WHY I didn't need you to self-incriminate yourself by answerin' my earlier question.  I, Seville the Cat, am perfectly capable of lookin' at what you're doin' AND SEEIN' WITH MY VERY OWN TWO EYES that what you are doin' is makin' a mess.

MOUSES!

And I think I would be remiss if I didn't point out the hypocrisy of your allowin' yourself to do somethin' like what you are currently doin', but complainin' when I do the same.  And I should also point out the unjustness and unfairness of it all, and...

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

Why the mess, of course.  That big ol' mess you happened to make.

MOUSES!

You know, if I, Seville the Cat, were to track in copious amounts of soil and earth and...  Well let's just call a spade a spade - no pun intended - and say what it is: DIRT.  And if I, Seville the Cat, were to track copious amounts of DIRT into the house after diggin' in the garden, I'd be gettin' a right tellin' off, I would.  A right tellin' off, for sure.

Who am I kiddin'?  I'd be gettin' a right tellin' off just for doin' the diggin'!

So why-oh-why is it that you, Peepers, think it's okay for you to go diggin' in the garden for several hours before trackin' all this dirt into the house, when you know darn well that if I were to do the same, I'd be gettin' in trubs.

Trubs.  It's short for trouble.  That second syllable was slowin' me down.

MOUSES!

And THEN, as if that weren't enough, YOU HAVE THE AUDACITY to complain 'bout your muscles bein' sore?

WELL!

Well it serves you right, ol' Peepers-be-jeepers of mine.   All that diggin' and delvin' and makin' a mess FOR HOURS ON END was BOUND to make you all sore.  You might THINK you're a spring chicken but honestly, you're more like a grizzled old hen, and...

WHAT DID I SAY?

By gosh and by golly, some peeps get all offended by the littlest of things.

MOUSES!

And if ANYONE has a right to be offended, it's not her, but rather, it's me.  Why just last week, I spent a good hour diggin' in the garden right where she planted those stupid lettuce seeds, and what did I get?

NOTHIN' BUT GRIEF.

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.

up to her old tricks

So I walked into my office the other night, and...

Yeah, that's right, it's MY office.  MY domain.  MY special place where I rule, and...

Okay, so actually, I rule ALL OVER the house but that's neither here not there.  The point is, the office is mine and in MY office, I am the law.

At least I'm supposed to be.

And for the most part, I am.

And...

Oh, never mind that.  The thing is, I, Seville the Cat, walked into MY office the other night, and looked all around only to find...

A mess.  A big ol' mess.  The messiest of messes.  It was...

It was a right ol' mess, to be sure.

MOUSES!

There was pottin' mix all over the floor.  Bits scattered here and there.  Pretty much everywhere.  To tell you the truth, it was hard for me to even see the floor.  You know, on account of all the pottin' mix strewn about, and...

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

FINE.  So apparently, there was maybe a pawful or two of that pottin' mix scattered about on the floor.  Probably not even enough to warrant the vacuum bein' brought out.  Probably just a broom would do.

But nevertheless...

THERE WAS POTTIN' MIX ALL OVER MY OFFICE FLOOR.

MOUSES!

Plus, there was water.  It looked like a flood!  Yeah, it looked like there had been a flood in there of Biblical proportions.  There was water, everywhere.

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

FINE.  Apparently, there was maybe a teaspoon or two.

But nevertheless...

THERE WAS WATER ALL OVER MY OFFICE FLOOR.

MOUSES!

And as I looked about the room that appeared to have been ransacked by a horde or maraudin' somethin' or others immediately prior, durin', or after a great flood that had washed up copious amounts of pottin' soil; that's when I realised...

That's when I realised...

THAT'S when I realised...

PEEPERS WAS UP TO HER OLD TRICKS, ONCE MORE.

MOUSES!

You see, as spring is upon us, ol' Peepers is pottin' up plants.  Pepper plants, to be exact.  Yup, that's right, I'm talking 'bout Peepers pottin' up a her pepped-up plants.  Namely, her peppers.

AND SHE'S POTTING 'EM UP IN MY OFFICE.

 And makin' a mess of the floor.

MOUSES!

Oh sure, she tidied everythin' up, later.

But I heard she'll be pottin' up more.

All over MY office floor.

MOUSES!

I'm tellin' ya, some peeps have no respect for a kitty's space.  If anyone is gonna make a mess in my office, it's gonna be me.  Who the mouses does she think she is, makin' a mess in MY office?

Thanks-be-to-goodness it was only pottin' soil,  'cause let me tell you somethin', my friends: if Peepers starts makin' litter box type messes all over my floor...

*stares straight ahead, eyes wide in horror*

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.

oh dear

Oh dear...

OH dear...

Oh deary deary dear...

Oh.... deer?

That's better.

MOUSES!

You can thank me later, Peepers!

When you find my bill in the mail.

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, some of you out there might remember the problems ol' Peepers had, last winter, with the deer.

What?  What's that?  You mean I forgot to tell you all about the deer?

Oh dear...

MOUSES!

WELL, last winter, there was a whole whackin' herd...

Or I suppose it might have been just one family...

Perhaps just a couple of pals.  Who happened to be deer.  And who happened to use Peepers' garden as some sorta highway.

They must have been comin' from the road, cuttin' through the trees, then walkin' through the garden to get to the compost bins and stuff.  And anythin' lyin' in the path of those deer, got trod on along the way.

BUT DON'T WORRY!  Don't you be worryin' about my catnip.  My nip plants were safe 'cause they weren't planted 'round there.

But as for Peepers' Iceland Poppies...

Well they didn't fare quite so well.

MOUSES!

That's right, come springtime last year, there were deer hoof prints ALL OVER the place.  Those prints were here and there and pretty much everywhere, INCLUDIN' the raised bed with all Peepers' poppies.

A lot of 'em got all mushed.

The poppies, I mean.

MOUSES!

Now let me tell you somethin', my friends: deer might not wanna EAT Iceland Poppies, but they sure don't mind mushing 'em right into the ground.

MOUSES!

BUT THANKS TO MY GENIUS-LIKE THINKIN', Peepers put those greenhouse frames up last September.  There are no plastic coverings, or anythin'.  Only the frames.  But JUST AS I THOUGHT would happen, the deer are now walkin' AROUND the raised beds, instead of straight through 'em.

Like I KNEW that they would.

So even though there may be a whole mess of hoof prints out there, there're not nearly as MESSY as one might expect.

Mess of...  Messy...  Get it?

Heeheeheeheehee...

MOUSES!

But anyway, those deer are followin' the paths between the flower beds in nice, straight, neat lines, and by gosh and by golly...

By gosh and by golly...

By gosh and by golly, there are NO MUSHED UP PLANTS to be found.

Turns out I, Seville the Cat, am a deer-wrangler at heart.

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.

in shock

Oh. My. Mouses.

MOUSES!

I'm tellin' ya, my friends.  I'm in shock.

I'm in shock.  Saffy's in shock.  We kitties are most definitely, DEFINITELY in shock.

Definitely.

In shock.

MOUSES!

So I was checkin' on my stash of boxes in the garage the other day.  Counting 'em, inspecting 'em, talking to 'em and letting 'em know how much I adore 'em and can't wait to bring 'em in the house and take a nap in 'em and play with 'em...  And maybe even give 'em a good scratching now and then.

You know, that sorta thing.

Well at least that's what I was GONNA do.

MOUSES!

Okay, so the truth is, I was headin' INTO the garage the other day to check on my stash of boxes, when...

When...

When...

When I discovered my stash of boxes was gone.

That's right, my friends: gone.  Gone, I tell you.  GONE!  Not a trace of 'em anywhere to be found.

MOUSES!

Well as you can imagine, the first thing I did was come inside the house, get on the phone, and call the police.  A missin' stash of boxes is not somethin' to mess around with, at all.  I KNOW how important it is to get the police on the case right away if there's gonna be any chance of gettin' your stash back, unharmed.

Learned that lesson the hard way when my stash of nip disappeared one year, only to find out - TOO LATE - that Peepers had gone and put it in the compost pile on account of the new harvest bein' ready and fresher and stuff, NEVER ONCE THINKIN' about how the older nip stash could have been used to stuff a cushion or somethin' for me to curl up on.

But that's a peep for you, isn't it.

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, I got on the blower right away with the police.

Well once the officer on the blower's other end stopped laughin'...

Silly man thought my call was some kinda prank.

So once the officer stopped laughin', he went and hung up on me.

Can you believe it?

MOUSES!

Well that's when Saffy and I decided we'd have to take matters into our own eight paws.  We'd have to investigate the case and close it ourselves.  And like I said before, we knew how important it was to start right away before the case went all cold like a long-forgotten pot of tea found the next mornin'.

MOUSES!

First thing needin' to be done was to interview all potential suspects, startin' with our numero uno, PRIMO suspecto, for sure: the peep.

MOUSES!

And that's when we found out that Peepers had gone and used OUR stash of boxes to put on the ground before fillin' up her new, STUPID raised garden beds.   She had gone and sliced 'em open, laid 'em flat, put 'em on the ground, and then covered 'em with dirt, like they were garbage or somethin'; and TOTALLY RUINING 'EM, for sure.

And that, my friends, is why Saffron and I are in shock.

It brings a kitty to tears.

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.

beauty sleep interruptus

Good grief, Peepers.  What the mousie mousin' mouses are you doin'?

And 'cause it probably needs to be said once more...

MOUSES!

I DON'T CARE THAT YOU'RE...

Wait a minute.  What?  You're doin' what?  You say you're doin'...

Oh never mind.  I don't wanna know.  Nope, I don't wanna hear anythin' more about it.  Not a peep.  Not a single, solitary peep.

And when I say I don't wanna HEAR anythin' more about what you've been doin', what I really mean is that I don't wanna hear you doin' what you've been doin' in the wee hours of the mornin'.

A cat has gotta get his beauty sleep, you know.  Yes, even a cat as handsome and debonair as me...  Hmmm...  I?  Doesn't matter.  Point is, even a cat as handsome and debonair as yours truly, must still get in an appropriate twenty or so hours of beauty sleep.

Daily.

MOUSES!

What do you MEAN I was already up?

Oh yeah.  Okay, so maybe I had already been up for a couple hours this mornin', tendin' to various matters of importance and such, when you started...

What?

MISCHIEF MAKIN' IS TOO a matter of importance!

To me.

MOUSES!

But never you mind that.  Fact is, I COULD have been sleepin' soundly when you started up with that darned blender, crushin' and grindin' those egg shells for the garden.  Runnin' that blender for hours and hours and HOURS on end.

What?

Well we cats age a lot faster than you peeps, so fifteen or twenty minutes to you IS LIKE AN ETERNITY to a kitty like me, and...

What's that?

Oh yeah.

FINE.  You win, Peepers.  I did schedule my first of two, early mid-mornin' naps for right about now so yeah, I had best go grab that twenty minutes of beauty sleep whilst I can still get it.

'CAUSE ONE NEVER KNOWS WHEN A MADWOMAN WITH A BLENDER MIGHT START IT UP AND RUNNIN' AGAIN.

Peeps and their stupid noisy appliances.

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.

dig it and they will come

Build it and they will come.

I think that's what they said.

Well it was somethin' like that, for sure.  Of course, they weren't talking 'bout Peepers.  Nope, they weren't talking 'bout anythin' Peepers built, for sure.

'Less, of course, they were talking 'bout rescuers comin' to rescue whomever was trapped in whatever the peep built, 'CAUSE ANYTHIN' PEEPERS BUILDS is bound to be a disaster waitin' to happen, for sure. 

Woman doesn't know a screw from a nail.

MOUSES!

Now, I wonder if anyone has ever said the followin': dig it and they will come.

Anyone know?

MOUSES!

Turns out, someone does know.  I know.  Yup, I know the answer, for sure.  Of course, I know the answer to lots of questions and things.  Pretty much practically EVERYTHIN'.

And if I don't know, I just make it up.

MOUSES!

And by the way, the answer is yes.  Yes, someone has said, dig it and they will come.  In fact, I said it earlier today.  Said it yesterday, too.  And do you know somethin' else, my friends?  Do you?

IT'S TRUE!  Yup, the sayin' is absolutely, one hundred and fifty-three percent true.

Give or take a percentage point, or two.

MOUSES!

So on account of my sayin' the sayin' and bein' correct about it and all, Peepers now has an eight foot long mini-greenhouse frame sittin' in her flower bed, two packages of aluminium foil plates - made from recycled aluminium, of course, 'cause Peepers loves the planet and everythin'  - in the kitchen waitin' to be used, a big ol' pile of twigs and things next to the garden bed with the mini-greenhouse frame, and she is currently pickin' hot chilli peppers she plans to chop up later and scatter all over said bed.  And then...

Pardon me?  Pardon?  Why is she doin' all that, you ask?

Well...

Well on account of my bein' right, of course.

Like I always am.

MOUSES!

Dig it, and they will come, I said.  Yup, dig it and they will come.  A peep digs a garden bed up, exposin' nice soil, gettin' the bed ready for some fall plantin', and...

AND THEY COME.

I'm tellin' ya, ol' Noah was never in it.

MOUSES!

Who are they, you ask?

Well...

Well allow me to elaborate, my friends.  The eight foot long mini-greenhouse frame is to stop the deer from tramplin' the plants Peepers is plantin', like they did to Peepers' icelandic poppies last year.  Then she's gonna hang those pie plates from the top of the frame to discourage 'em from reachin' in and eatin' the plants like they ate all but three of her roses this year.  And once the plants are in the ground, she's gonna stick twigs and things in between all the rows before scatterin' those chopped up chilli peppers on the soil to discourage the raccoons from diggin' everythin' up, like they've been doin' ALL year, even now, before anythin' has been planted.

'CAUSE LIKE I SAID...

DIG IT AND THEY WILL COME.

MOUSES!

Excuse me?  Didn't quite catch what you said.

No...  No.  Nope, none of these measures are on account of Saffy and me.

We've already had our fill of diggin' up Peepers' plantings, you see.  Why, we've been diggin' up her stuff all summer long and are gettin' a tad bored with the whole thing.

Plus, compost is awfully hard to get out from under one's claws.

So Saffy and me...  We made a deal.  Yup, we made a deal with the peep.

Deal...  Accepted a bribe...  Whatever.

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.

the box

As you may remember, my last blog post was about Peepers diggin' up the garden bed where she grew her stupid peas.  You might also remember 'bout my findin' a long-lost catnip plant that wasn't actually lost - on account of my previously not knowin' of its existence - but was a real live treasure to find, to be sure.

MOUSES!

Well as it turns out, the fun didn't end there!  No sirree, once Peepers had that garden bed all dug up and prepped for whatever stupid stuff she'll plant in there next...

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

It will TOO be stupid.

NO, of course the catnip plant wasn't stupid.  But you didn't actually plant the catnip plant, did you.  You planted that bed full of peas; and FYI, Peepers, peas are most definitely stupid.  So unless you're plannin' on plantin' catnip in the bed next year, odds are, WHATEVER you plant will, in fact, be stupid.  

Hmmm...

Peepers, you weren't actually thinkin' of fillin' that bed with catnip, were you?

No?  Then yeah, just as I said, whatever it is will definitely be stupid.

MOUSES!

But back to that dug up plant bed.

So anyway, Saffron and I have found a really good use for that bed ol' Peepers dug up.  Can you guess what it might be?

No, we're not plannin' on sleepin' in it.

I know, I know....  I know it's a bed.  But it's a different kinda bed, you see.

No other ideas?  None at all?  The bed is eight feet long, four feet wide, and about eight inches or so high.

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

What do you MEAN by tellin' me not to get any ideas about usin' that plant bed.

Just ignore the peep, my friends

I usually do.

MOUSES!

But anyway...

But anyway, I won't keep you in suspense any longer.  Saffron and I have decided that a four by eight foot bed filled with about eight inches of soil MAKES THE MOST EXCELLENT....

WHAT IS IT NOW, PEEPERS.  WHAT IS IT NOW?

Yes, I know.  Yes, I know Saffy's out there doin' his business in our new and improved litter box.  In fact, I was just tellin' my pals all about that, this very minute.

Oh get a grip, Peepers.  You're actin' like a crazy lady, for sure.

My gosh, a peep makes the biggest, most excellent litter box for her kitties that I, Seville the Cat, have ever seen in all my nine lives; BUT WHEN SAID KITTIES actually USE the biggest, most excellent litter box any kitty has ever seen, said peep does nothin' but complain.

And freak out.

And then more complainin'.

Blah, blah, blah...   Blah, blah, blah, blah...  BLAH, BLAH, BLAH...

Yup, that's just what she sounds like, for sure.

MOUSES!

Now you'll have to excuse me, my pals.  I'm feelin' the need to use the new outdoor litter box Peepers was so kind to make for Saffy and me.

Even if its usage DOES come with a series of complaints.

Oh quit your gripin', woman.  Outta my way.  I, Seville the Cat, really need to pee.

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.

treasure

Oohhh...

OOHHH....

Oh my mouses, it's time to bring on the Happy Dance, I say.  Bring. It. On.

MOUSES!

You know, Peepers has gone through her entire life lookin' for secret passages and hidden tunnels and long lost treasure, and stuff like that.  Of course, she's never found any of those.  She once came close, though, way back when, when she was just a wee little kitten, herself.  But unfortunately, her searchin' for that particular secret passage didn't work out all that well.

FYI, if you open the door and stick a sign with an arrow on the wall sayin' SECRET PASSAGE, the passage isn't a secret, at all.

MOUSES!

I, on the other paw, discovered a long lost treasure only yesterday.

MOUSES!

That's right, I, Seville the Cat, discovered a long lost tre...

Okay, so it wasn't really lost, but it was a treasure, for sure.

MOUSES!

Yesterday afternoon, Peepers decided to dig up the garden bed where her stupid peas grew earlier this year.  Now I say stupid on account of their havin' been of no use to me, but I'm bettin' you knew that already.

FYI, everythin' of no use to me is most likely gonna be labelled as stupid.

MOUSES!

Well I wasn't payin' a whole lot of attention to the peep's diggin' on account of the whole thing bein' kinda borin', you see.  First of all, she was diggin' with a spade.  I, Seville the Cat, like any and every respectable feline, much prefer diggin' with my paws.  Requirin' a spade or any other kind of diggin' implement in order to dig, just proves beyond any reasonable doubt that we cats truly are the superior species.

Plus, when Peepers digs in the garden, she always seems to manage to get herself covered in dirt from head to paw and quite honestly, it's a little disgustin'.

MOUSES!

But anyway...

But anyway, while Peepers was diggin' away, I thought I'd have an afternoon nap.  The sun was warm on my furs and a gentle breeze was ticklin' my whiskers.  And just as I had almost drifted off to sleep, the most wonderful fragrance wafted past my nose.

Could it be...

Could it be...

Could it be catnip I was smellin'?

Nah, that couldn't be right.  I wasn't anywhere near my catnip patch.  My catnip patch is at the front of the garden, you see, and Peepers and I were settled in at the back.

Plus, if I was smellin' catnip, it would likely mean that instead of diggin' up her stupid peas, Peepers was messin' about with my nip plants and I was sure she was absolutely NOT doin' that.  She and I have an agreement, you see.  Peepers doesn't mess with my nip plants, and I don't poop in her peas.

Whether those peas be stupid, or not.

And FYI, peas are ALWAYS stupid, for sure.

MOUSES!

So knowin' the wonderful aroma of catnip couldn't possibly be caused by Peepers messin' with my nip patch, I figured I must have already drifted off to sleep and was now dreamin'.  Dreamin' of nip fields with nip plants gently swayin' in the breeze.

But the funny thing was, I wasn't seein' any nip plants in my dreams.  Nope, I wasn't seein' anythin' at all!  And I had never had a sniffin' only dream before.

MOUSES!

I opened one eye.

Hmmm...  I was still smellin' the nip although now fully awake.

MOUSES!

So up I got, onto all four paws, allowin' said paws to follow my nose.  Before I knew it, I was standin' right there next to the peep.  She was by her stupid pea bed lookin' down at some kinda plant she had found growin' there.  And she had a look on her face.  A look I knew only too well.  Peepers considered that plant to be a weed and was just about to dig it up when...

WHEN I, SEVILLE THE CAT, REALISED WHAT THE PLANT WAS, AND THAT THAT THERE PLANT WAS MOST CERTAINLY NOT ANY WEED.

"GET AWAY FROM THAT NIP PLANT, YOU PEEP.  THAT THERE IS LONG-LOST TREASURE, FOR SURE!"

Okay, so again, it wasn't really lost.  I hadn't known of its existence before that moment, and I don't think you can lose somethin' you never actually had.

But treasure it was.  Treasure, for sure.

The next half hour was spent findin' the right pot, fillin' it with soil, and pottin' up my newly found catnip plant which I was gonna love and cherish, before munchin' on it and gettin' myself well and truly nipped.

And after the important stuff was all done, I then allowed Peepers to continue with her diggin'.  Her stupid diggin', that is.

Imagine needin' a spade to dig.

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.

Canada Day weekend

I almost didn't get to blog today, my friends.

MOUSES!

I know, I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin' I was probably havin' Internet problems and stuff.

Well...

Well I was.  And to be perfectly honest, I did almost give up.  But I kept perseverin' and I finally got on.

MOUSES!

I know, I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin' if my almost not gettin' to blog today wasn't on account of my Internet issues, it was probably on account of my bein' hung over from imbibin' in the nip yesterday, celebratin' Canada Day.

Well...

Well that could be true.  Kinda.  I mean, I did imbibe in a lot of catnip yesterday, celebratin' the birthday of our great nation and all, but...

But...

BUT TO TELL YOU THE TRUTH, I STILL AM!  

Imbibin', that is.

And I don't think the hangover bit starts 'til after you stop sniffin' the nip; and I'm plannin' on celebratin' Canada Day All. Weekend. Long.

MOUSES!

I know, I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin' that if my almost not getttin' to blog today wasn't on account of my lousy Internet connection or a catnip hangover, you can't possibly be expected to think of any other reason, 'cept perhaps sheer laziness or somethin' like that.

Sheer laziness of PEEPERS, that is.

MOUSES!

Well...

Well Peepers can be a little sloth-like, for sure.

You should see the state of the lawn.

But Peepers' sloth-like qualities are NOT the reason for my almost not bloggin' today.  My reason does, however, have somethin' to do with the peep.

Are you ready?

You had better sit down.

So what happened is this: Early this mornin', I decided to give the ol' garden a tour.  With a sprig of catnip hangin' outta the corner of my mouth - I was chewin' on it, you see - I headed out back to check on Peepers' peppers and flowery stuff and garden type things.  Well!  Well I rounded the corner and the first thing I saw was the bed where she's growin' her tomatoes.

Now NORMALLY tomato plants wouldn't be of interest to me.  After all, I'm a cat and we cats don't like tomatoey things.  Fact.

But what I saw in that bed of tomatoes was astoundin', for sure.  I don't know what the mouses she's feedin' those plants but I swear they're all at least a good five feet tall.  They're TOWERIN' outta the ground.  LITERALLY!  They're so tall...

They're so tall I can barely see the tops of 'em.

Most of 'em are taller than Peepers, for sure!

And the thing is...

The thing is, this is only the second of July.  And they still have another three months to grow taller!

Now these mutant tomato plants belongin' to Peepers have me worried for two very good reasons.  Firstly, I have concerns 'bout those darned vines takin' over the whole garden and usin' up space better used for the growin' of nip.

And secondly...

Well secondly, I don't know 'bout you, but I'VE read the accounts of ol' Jack and that beanstalk and let me tell you somethin', my friends:  NO CAT, NO WHERE, HAS EVER WANTED A BIG OL' GIANT FALLIN' DOWN FROM A GIGANTIC TOMATO PLANT, THEN WANDERIN' AROUND IN HIS GARDEN, and POSSIBLY CRUSHIN' HIS CATNIP PLANTS THAT HE HAS BEEN GROWIN' WITH TENDER LOVIN' CARE.

So that, my friends, is why I almost didn't get to blog today.  I was out there starin' at those gigantic tomato plants and totally lost track of the time.  I was out there for goodness knows how long, plannin' and strategizing, figurin' out what I should do if I should happen to spot giant clodhopper feet usin' those tomato vines to climb down into MY garden.  And wonderin' if I should perhaps take a preventative axe to Peepers' plants right now, 'cause one can never be TOO CAREFUL when it comes to giants and things.

And I also had a bit of a nap.

Twenty-four plus hours of nippin' will do that, you see.

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.