right in the keister

So there I was sittin' in the kitchen, waitin' for some treats, when...

When I happened to see my brother, Rushton, walkin' past my other brother, Andy.

MOUSES!

I know, I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin', what's the big deal about that?

Well...

Well for starters, when Rushton walked past Andy, Andy gave him a smacky paw, right in the keister.

MOUSES!

Now seriously folks, I wouldn't be puttin' my paws anywhere near that long-haired marmie freak of a brother of mine's keister, for one never really knows where his keister may have recently been.

MOUSES!

But Andy, bein' Andy, can't resist smacky-pawin' anyone as they walk past.  Sometimes he gets you in the leg.  Sometimes the side.  And SOMETIMES, the keister.

MOUSES!

Well the next thing was, Rushy was rushin' over to me, complainin' about Andy.  "Did you see that?  Did you see what he did?  Did you see..."

I held up a paw in protest.  In protest of my havin' to listen to his complaints, that is.  "I, Seville the Cat, saw exactly what Anderson did," I told him.  "But to tell you the truth, Rushy, what one long-haired marmie freak of a brother does to another long-haired marmie freak of a brother, is of no interest to me.  MOUSES!"

"But, but, but..." Rushy began.

"But he got you in the BUTT, for sure," and I rolled on the floor, laughin'.

Seein' a pout beginnin' to form on my brother Rushton's face, I added, "But seriously, Rushy, it's not like you don't have protective paddin'.  Andy couldn't have hurt you.  I'm surprised you felt it at all.  MOUSES!"

'Is that some kind of fat joke?" Rushton asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Not at all, mon frere.  I am simply statin' the truth.  You have...  Well...  Well you have ample paddin', to be sure.  MOUSES!"

"Peep #1 says I'm just big boned," said Rushy, stampin' a paw.  "Plus, I do have a whole lot of floof."

I shook my head in dismay.  "Rushy, Rushy, Rushy...  You weigh in at twenty pounds.  There's no way that can all be accounted for by floof.  MOUSES!"

Rushton sat on his butt - or should I say, keister - and gave me the look a two-year-old child gives his mother immediately prior to startin' a tantrum.  "Don't complain to me," I told my long-haired marmie freak of a brother.  "Not my fault Andy can't keep his paws to himself.  Had I walked past him, he woulda smacky-pawed me in the keister, too.  MOUSES!"





Rushton looked slightly cheered up by my little pep talk, so I continued.

"Of course, I woulda felt it more, for my keister isn't as well padded as yours.  MOUSES!"

Well that did it.  No sooner had I uttered that last statement, Rushy was up and about, threatenin' to smacky-paw ME!"

"Don't you get any ideas, you long-haired marmie freak of a brother of mine.  I'm not the one who smacked you in the butt.  You wanna get back at someone for that, you need to get back at the smacky-pawer himself, and that, mon bizarre confiture frere, would be Andy.   MOUSES!"

Rushton sat back down for a moment, and mulled over what I had said.

Twenty. Minutes. Later...

Twenty minutes later, he had figured it out.  "You're absolutely right, Seville.  If I wanna get back at Andy for smackin' me, I need to deal with Andy himself."

"You got that right."

"I most certainly do!  And do you know what I'm gonna do about it?" my brother asked.

Takin' a wild guess, I said, "Uh...  Go talk to Andy, perhaps?"

"That's an even BETTER idea than what I was thinkin'," and Rushton squealed with delight.

Goodness knows what Rushy's original idea had been.  MOUSES!

I looked at my brother, just sittin' there, not makin' a move.  "Well uh...  If you're gonna go talk to Andy, you're gonna have to get up off that butt of yours, and approach him."


"Good plan there, Sivvers," and Rushy was up and crossin' the room.

Now what happened next was not unexpected.  Certainly not surprisin', in the least.

Rushton decided it would be best for him to talk to Andy, face to face, I suppose.  And as Andy had his back to Rushy, Rushy walked past him, plannin' to spin 'round in order to talk, but...

But just as Rushy walked past...

Andy smacky-pawed him right in the keister.

MOUSES!

I am cat

I am cat.  Hear me roar.

Okay, so I'm not really into the roarin'.  I do do an occasional growl, but my growlin' is not nearly as scary as that look I sometimes give.  You know the one.  The one that says, "BACK OFF OR I'LL SMACKY-PAW YOU IN THE KEISTER."

Okay, so I've never really smacky-pawed anyone in the keister.  Between the ears? Oh yeah.  But never in the keister, for sure, 'cause let me tell you somethin', if you smacky-paw another kitty in the keister, that other kitty might lift his or her tail and...

'Nough said.  MOUSES!

Hmmm...

You're probably all wonderin' what on earth this blog post is about.  To tell you the truth, I'm beginnin' to wonder that myself. MOUSES!

HMMM...

Okay, so here's the thing.  Sometimes a kitty has simply got to speak up.  Yup, it's true.  Whether you're speakin' up by meowin' or roarin' or smacky-pawin' another kitty between the ears, there are times when you've just gotta stand up for yourself and speak.

Why just the other day...

Just the other day, I saw my brother Rushton slinkin' into the family room while I was tryin' to nap on the chesterfield.

I know, I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin', Rushton doesn't slink, and let me tell you somethin', my friends, never have truer words been said.  MOUSES!

What's that Rushy?  You do slink?  You think you are, in fact, slinky?  Really?  REALLY?  You think all twenty pounds or so of you, and that mountainous mountain of fur, can slink?  REALLY?  Maybe some alternative form of slinking, in some alternative universe, but in the real world?  Never. MOUSES!

So like I was sayin'...

The other day, I saw my brother Rusthon attemptin' to slink into the family room, while I was supposedly attemptin'' to nap on the chesterfield.  The reason I was only attemptin' to nap, and not actually nappin', was 'cause at the very same time, I was also attemptin' to protect the half-filled saucer of my special-special, lyin' on the family room floor.

Just to clarify, it was the saucer that was lyin' on the floor.  I, myself, was up on the chesterfield.

But back to the topic at paw.  Peep #1, bein' a pretty good peep for the most part, had allowed me to have some of my special-special in the family room that day.  You know, in order to save me the effort of havin' to walk all the way into the kitchen.

But here's the thing, it was really a set-up.

You see, my special-special has been goin' missin' as of late.  That's right, MISSIN'.  Missin' as in, one moment it's there, and the next?  Gone.  MOUSES!

But before callin' in the RCMP and CSIS to investigate, I thought I should do a little sniffin' around, myself.

I know, I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin', a case involvin' missin' special-special is far too big a case for one cat to handle himself.

Well that, my friends, is why I enlisted the help of the peep.

That's right.  While the rest of the world thought I was simply tryin' to have a little nap on the family room chesterfield, I was really...

ON A STAKEOUT.  MOUSES!

From my vantage point on the chesterfield, I could see both my saucer of special-special and the family room door.  All I had to do was keep my eyes open which, by the way, turns out to be very difficult to do, while at the same time as tryin' to look like you're nappin'.  MOUSES!

But have no fear, my friends.  I, Seville the Cat, am a professional, and I was able to handle the task at hand.  I mean, paw.  No, I think I mean hand.  MOUSES!

So anyway, there he was.  There was that brother of mine, slinkin' - as only a Rushton can do without actually slinkin' - his way into the family room.  With every step he took, he got closer and closer AND CLOSER until eventually, he was within a paw's reach of my saucer of special-special.

And just as he was about to dive in and grab a mouthful of my special kibble the peep gets from the doctor, meant only for kitties who have had bouts with the crystals...

I POUNCED!

That's right.  I pounced like no other kitty has pounced before.  Never before have you seen a kitty doin' the Kung Fu and Karate Kid moves like I did that day.  IT WAS SMACKY-PAW MANIA, FOR SURE.

Of course, my paws hit nothin' but fur.  Thick, mountainous mountains of fur.  That's the thing with brothers like Rushton.  They're well padded, for sure.  MOUSES!

But let me tell you somethin', my friends.  Mountains of fur or not, it's gonna be a cold day in you-know-where before Rushy tries to steal my special-special again.  Oh yeah, there are gonna be pigs flyin' and everythin' and..

And...

What's that, Peepers?

WHAT?

Rushton is snackin' on my special-special right now?  At this very moment?  Really?

Awww...  MOUSES!