ninety-seven weeks

Now let's see...

Hmmm...

Seven times seven...

Carry the four.

Times zero is zero...

Of course.

Add five to that, and...

Hmmm...

Now I multiply everythin' by nine, and I have...

Got it!  *snaps claws*  That's five hundred and twenty-seven million, nine hundred and ninety thousand, four hundred cat seconds, to be exact.

Give or take a few minutes.

MOUSES!

So there you have it, my friends, I have now been cooped up with two good-for-nothin' peeps for five hundred and twenty-seven million, nine hundred and ninety thousand, four hundred cat seconds, give or take a minute or two.

Like I said before, MOUSES!

And do you know what I've learned in all this time, my friends?  What I've learned durin' these millions and millions of seconds?  I've learned...

I've learned...

I've learned that when I call my peeps good-for-nothin', I am puttin' it mildly, for sure.

MOUSES!

Why just the other day...

Just the other day, Peepers was busy doin' things with pots and dirt and worm poop and stuff, so OF COURSE I thought to myself, Peepers is plantin' more catnip for me!  And it was about time, too, 'cause let me tell you somethin', my friends.  It's cold and snowy outside.  It's full on winter, in fact.  And durin' a Canadian winter, a kitty needs some greenery and things to keep a kitty going 'til spring.

But was she, my friends?  Was she actually plantin' me catnip?

No.  No she was not.  She was plantin' goodness knows what but it was not catnip, for sure.  Lettuce, I think.  Bleh.

"I DON'T EAT NO STUPID LETTUCE!" I cried.

And in case you were wonderin', I don't eat SMART lettuce either, on account of there bein' no such thing as smart lettuce, you see.  Plus, I'm a cat, and generally speakin', we cats don't like any kinda lettuce at all.

When it comes to veggies, grass and nip are where it's at.  Well grass, mainly.  I don't consider catnip a veggie.  It's more of a...

Hmmm...

A NECESSITY OF LIFE, for sure.

Hey Peepers!  Be a good peep there, would ya, and start busyin' yourself with the plantin' of nip.

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.

freak out!

"I thought we had cats," the peep fumed, placing her hands on her hips in a disgruntled fashion.  "I THOUGHT WE HAD CATS."

"What's up, Peepers?" I asked.  "Havin' a bad day, are we?"

The peep narrowed her eyes.  "Since you ask, Seville, the blue jays have been making a mess of my potted lettuce seeds."

I looked over at the plant pots in which the peep had planted her lettuce the day before and sure enough, there was a blue jay struttin' about in one, just like he owned the joint.  The bird looked over at me and nonchalantly gave me the feather.  MOUSES!

"So uh...  What's your point there, Peepers?  What does that there blue jay have to do with us cats?" I asked.

The peep let out a loud sigh.  Loud enough for at least half the world to hear, I'm sure.  "You'd think that in a multi-cat household, the birds would stay away from my plants."

"Well if you don't want the birds to visit," I began, "you should probably stop feeding 'em."

"I'm NOT feeding them," she replied.  "I'm certainly not feeding them lettuce seed."

I screwed up my nose.  "Um..  APPARENTLY, Peepers, you are.  MOUSES!"

"Ugh," and Ol' Peepers spun on her heels and began to head for the house.

"No need to freak out about it!" I called out to her.  Then, turnin' to my fur-sibs, I began clickin' my claws to an upbeat beat.

And now, for a musical interlude from the Back Street Cats.

"Aaahh FREAK OUT!" we sang.  "Le freak, see'est Chic.  FREAK OUT!"

Peep #1 turned back to face us again, staring at my fur-sibs and me with disgust.

"Don't speak, Monique," we sang.

"Who the mouses is Monique?" the peep asked.

"I don't know," I answered, "but whoever she is, her name rhymes with speak."

At that moment, the blue jay dancin' in the plant pots with the lettuce seeds, stopped dancin' and gave me the feather again.

Or maybe he was givin' it to the peep.

MOUSES!

"Freak out!  Peep's seeds, your beak," we continued to sing.

The peep rolled her eyes.

"Plant more, next week," I suggested, all the while keepin' in tune.

The peep threw her arms up in the air.  "HAS THE WHOLE WORLD GONE CRAZY?" she cried out to no one in particular.  She looked like she was about to give up on the conversation.  Either that or...  You know...  Freak out.  I looked over at the bird again who was now actively pecking away at the soil in the plant pot.  Every now and then he'd find a lettuce seed and swallow it whole.

Not that one would not swallow lettuce seeds whole, mind you.   I mean, they are kinda small.  Not worth the bother of cutting 'em up with a knife, for sure.

"Aren't you going to do ANYTHING about that bird?" the peep cried.

I shrugged my shoulders.  "Like what?"

"Like...  Like...  Like scare him off.  Shoo him away.  ACT LIKE CATS, for goodness sake."

I looked at my fur-sibs and my fur-sibs looked right back at me.  We knew exactly what we needed to do.  Huddling together, we formed a plan of action.

And now, for another musical interlude from the Back Street Cats: 

"They'll be swinging, swaying, records playing.  Dancing in the street," we sang.  "Doesn't matter what you wear, even feathers in your hair.  Every cat, grab a bird.  Birds right 'round the world... WILL BE dancin' in the street.  They'll be swinging, swaying, plant pot playing..."

The peep just stood there, her mouth hangin' halfway to the ground.  Gathering her senses, she calmly stated, "You cats are all nuts.  Every single one of you is nuts.  NUTS."

"Nuts?" I questioned.  "Now if you wanna talk nuts, Peepers, we should consult the squirrels.  HEY BIRD!" I called out to the blue jay.  "You know where the squirrels are today?  You seen any of  'em hangin' about?"

The blue jay once again gave me the feather.  Then he went back to struttin' about in the plant pot, lookin' for more lettuce seed.

"Look, Peepers, we tried," I sighed.  "Like I said before: If you don't wanna attract the birds, you've gotta stop feeding 'em.  They seem to really like lettuce seed so uh...  So why don't you start by stop feeding 'em that.  MOUSES!'

are you KIDDIN' me?

For mousin' out loud.

Are you KIDDIN' me?

Oh COME ON...

Awww...  MOUSES!

*sighs*

*SIGHS*

First it was the mouse in the garage.

Then there was that frog.

Now the birds are wantin' in on the action, too?

MOUSES!

Hey!  You!  Yeah, YOU.  YOU, you stupid bird.  DON'T BE A TURD!!!

Sorry, I know.  I know it's not nice to call others names, but..

Fine.  FINE.  Fine, so you're not a turd.

Not my fault bird rhymes with turd.

But you know, I'd just like to point out, just because the peep insists on parkin' the car in your flight path, it doesn't mean you should be droppin' your poopies - ie. turds - all over said car.

NO IT DOESN'T!

MOUSES!

And whatever you do, don't you even THINK about dropping 'em on me.  Bad enough that as a cat I have to wash my OWN bum.  I don't need to be washin' up what comes out of yours, too.

MOUSES!

*sighs*

So anyway...

So anyway, I bet you're all wonderin' what happened this time.  Yup, I bet you're all wonderin' that, for sure.

No, there wasn't a bird in the garage.


But there WAS a bird.

Just not in the garage.

MOUSES!

Let me explain what happened, at my house, yesterday.

So the peep was all up in arms 'bout somethin' happenin' to her stupid ol' lettuce plants.  The new ones she just planted.  The ones in the stupid pots that were just startin' to poke their heads out of the soil.

Don't worry, I'm not gonna bore you with the tedious details.  I mean, we are talking 'bout lettuce plants.  WHO THE MOUSES CARES ABOUT THOSE?

Apparently, the peep.

Turns out, long story short, birds have been tryin' to eat 'em.

The baby lettuces, I mean.

So there you have it.  First it was the mouse causin' trouble.  Then the frog.  Now, birds.

MOUSES!

And the thing is, the peep, bein' a peep, IS EXPECTIN' ME to do somethin' about it.

MOUSES!

I know, I know...  I am a cat.  Cats are supposed to deal with birds, right?

SAYS WHO ???

Apparently, the peep.

But you see, the cats in my fur-fam are more into livin' and let live.  We're lovers, not killers.  WE DON'T CHASE NO STUPID LOUSY DIRTY ROTTEN BIRDS!

Oh sure, we watch the daily bird shows and stuff.  We watch 'em.  We WATCH the birds.  WE DON'T KILL 'EM!  We actually quite like the birdies.  By nature, we kitties are peaceful kitties, you see.

But now the peep is freakin' out about her stupid ol' lettuce plants.


What's a kitty to do?

Seriously, what IS a kitty to do?  I'm all out of answers, myself, which is why I've recently installed a suggestion box out at the back door. Maybe someone would like to suggest what a kitty like me should do 'bout these dirty rotten turds - I mean, BIRDS - eatin' the peep's baby lettuce plants.

So far, no one has made any suggestions.

Nope, not a one.

Not even the peep.

MOUSES!

aloha

Aloha, my friends.  ALOHA!

Seville the Cat here, reportin' from Hawaii.

NOT!!!

Not even close, my friends.  NOT EVEN CLOSE!  Not only am I not in Hawaii, I'm not even anywhere warm, at all.  Not anywhere even close to warm, my friends.  Not even close!

Last night, you see, we had...

FROST.

MOUSES!

Oohhh..  This mornin' offered up a chilly reception, to be sure.  Why, I could practically see my breath in the air.

And when I say practically see my breath, what I REALLY MEAN is that had I gone out first thing in the mornin', I'm pretty sure I would have seen my breath, for sure.  However, I, bein' the ever-so-sensible cat that I am, stayed inside 'til it got a bit warmer.

MOUSES!

The peep's plants, however, were not so lucky.  They had been out all night, and...

Well...

Well frosted they got, for sure.

MOUSES!

The tomatoes?  They're dead.  Not that they were doin' all that well while alive, but at least they were still breathin'.

Kinda.

Sorta.

I think.

The basil and rosemary plants, she brought inside.  Good thing, too, on account of the state of those tomatoes who had been left outdoors.  Did I mention they were dead?

And the lettuce is...

Well...

Well actually, the lettuce is still growin' very nicely.

'Cept for the ones someone sat upon and squished, the other day.

MOUSES!

And if you happen to hear any reports of lettuce plants havin' been sat upon and squished by an incredibly handsome marmalade cat....

IGNORE 'EM, for those reports are the very epitome of fake news, for sure.

Kinda.

Sorta.

Maybe.

Maybe in a I-had-my-paws-crossed-behind-my-back-when-I-told-the-peep-it-wasn't-me kinda way.

And in related news...

You have any idea how difficult it is for a cat to cross his paws BEHIND his back?  We cats are simply not built that way.

MOUSES!

And as for the nip...

Well...

Well let's just say, I'm pretty sure the peep WOULD LIKE to claim that the one little survivin' nip plant we had, was killed by last night's frost, but truth be told, it was lookin' as bad yesterday, BEFORE the cold arrived, as it does today.  Truth is, it was a sorry excuse for a nip plant before, and is equally as sad, today.

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

I did too.

Yes, Peepers, I did.  I did tell my readers we had a killin' frost last night.

No, Peepers, I did not.  I did not tell my readers that it was the frost that killed the nip plant, for that, ol' Peepers of mine, would have been a lie, and...

What do you mean I should have helped you grow the plant?  Growin' nip is YOUR job.  Imbibing in the nip is mine.  And...

And actually, I did help.  There was that day, remember?  That day when I felt so sorry for the little tyke of a plant, I tried to give it mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.  You know, to bring it back to life.

Okay, so it might have been more like an into-my-mouth-the-nip-went kinda resuscitation, but still...

But still, I only ate two leaves.

I left the other three.

And in related news...

It has been ruled MERELY COINCIDENTAL that the squished lettuce plants that were supposedly sat upon by an incredibly handsome marmalade cat, happened to be growin' right next to the pot containing the nip plant requiring mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.  You know, the nip plant with only five - I mean, THREE - leaves.

MOUSES!

I'll be sure to let her know

Ummm...  Okay-doke.  I'll be sure to let her know.

MOUSES!

OH PEEEEE-PERRRRS....

So anyway, Peepers, that was the police on the telephone.  They wanted me to...

What?  Yeah, that's what I said.  Yeah, it was the police.  The police were on the telephone.

Not the band, woman.  MOUSES!

And no, they weren't phonin' for you.  But they were callin' ABOUT you, for sure.

MOUSES!

You could say that.  Yup, you could say that if you wanted to.  The call did have to do with your missin' lettuce plants and stuff, and that missin' lettuce report you filed.

Oh my mouses no.  No, they weren't calling 'cause they found the culprit or anythin' like that.  To be perfectly honest, I don't think they're even lookin'.

Like the police go 'round lookin' for missin' lettuce plants.

Bwahahahahahahahahahahahaha!

So anyway, they were calling 'cause...

WELL I'M GETTIN' TO THAT!

Patience, woman.  Patience!  You would be wise to be more patient, for sure.

And speakin' of patients...

The police said that if you don't stop filing erroneous missin' lettuce reports and waltzin' around the garden at night in your nightie, they're gonna lock you up as a patient in the hospital, and...

Hey!  Don't complain to me.  I'm just the messenger here.

So anyway, it's either the hospital or a jail cell, they said.

Again, DON'T BLAME THE MESSENGER.  MOUSES!

For mousin' out loud, woman, it's not my fault you've been out there in the garden, flashin' the neighbourhood every night, and...

Oh yeah?   Well you were TOTIN' A FLASHLIGHT, for sure.

And what's with that, anyway?  It's bad enough I'm havin' to take phone calls from the police about your waltzin' around the garden in your nightie, flashin'...  I mean, carryin' a flashlight, every night, but I don't even know what it is you're doin' out there!  Other than the flashin' the neighbours with the flashlight, I mean.

And that your odd behaviour supposedly has somethin' to do with some missin' plants of lettuce.

Although seriously, what missin' baby lettuce plants have to do with nightdresses, and flashlights, and flashin' the neighbours, is beyond me.

And Peepers, it's beyond the police department, too. That's why they were callin', you see.

Hehehehehe...  You should write a book, Peepers.  A book called...  The Case of the Missin' Lettuces.

MOUSES!

What?  What's that, Peepers?  It would be a murder mystery, you say?

Why, did somebody murder the baby lettuces?

They ate 'em, you say?

But they murdered 'em first, right?

No?

THEY ATE 'EM ALIVE?

MOUSES!

So who would the murderer, in this murder mystery, be?

You?  Nah, it can't be you.  You'd be the flasher, right?  You'd be...

Yeah, yeah...  You're not flashin' anybody.

Or so you say.

So you're what, then...  The detective?  You're playin' the detective in this here murder mystery of yours?  This murder mystery 'bout baby lettuces that are bein' eaten alive?

Well detectives and flashlights do go hand in hand.  I mean, paw in paws.  I mean...   Whatever.

Of course, detectives in murder mysteries don't usually go 'round flashin' the neighbours and...

Yeah, yeah...  Flashin' the neighbours...  Totin' a flashlight...  Same diff, really.  MOUSES!

Ohhh...

OHHH...

So you're both the detective and the murderer in this here murder mystery of yours.

Hmmm...  That sounds kinda suspect to me.

Of course, it would be a rather unusual plot twist, for sure.

I think...  I think I had best call that policeman back.  Tell him you're not out there flashin' the neighbours in your nightie, every night, but rather, you're out there killin' the neighbours and...

So you're not killin' the neighbours, either, you say?

For mousin' out loud, woman, MAKE UP YOUR MIND!  One minute you're a flasher, the next you're a detective, and now a murderer, but you won't admit to bein' any of 'em, and...

Oh my mouses, it's enough to make a kitty's head spin, for sure.

Okay, so I think I've got this straight now.  You've been out there every night in your nightie, lookin' for thugs.  I mean, slugs.  Slugs that have been eatin' the baby lettuces alive.

Well that kinda makes sense, I suppose.  In a weird kinda way.

Except for...

Except for two things.

Firstly, what does flashin' the neighbours have to do with lookin' for slugs?  And secondly, why are you worried 'bout growin' stupid lettuce plants, when any decent peep would be way more worried 'BOUT GROWIN' ME SOME NIP.

MOUSES!