gonna need a new coat

I know, I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin' that I, Seville the Cat, already have a perfectly good - not to mention absolutely gorgeous - fur coat.

And you know somethin', my friends?

YOU WOULD BE RIGHT.

MOUSES!

Why, my orange marmalade furs are the bestest of bestest of coats, for sure.

Everyone says so, so it MUST be true.  Right?  Right.

MOUSES!

But the thing is, I'm not talking 'bout that kinda coat.

MOUSES!

No, I'm talking 'bout the kinda coat you put on OVER your naturally gorgeous marmalade furs.  You know, like peeps do.  When they wear coats.

Okay, so peeps don't actually have a lotta fur or hair all over their bodies over which they put on some kinda coat.

Okay so MOST peeps don't have a lotta fur or hair all over their bodies over which they might put on some kinda coat.  Oh sure, they've got hair on the tops of their heads but all over their arms and their legs?  And their backs?  And...

Well perhaps it's best not to think 'bout peeps who have that much hair.

MOUSES!

But back to the business of my needin' a new coat.

So far the winter here in Nova Scotia has been fairly mild.  We've had some snow.  We've had rain.  We've had a lotta rain, in fact.  But all and all, it hasn't been all that cold.

But accordin' to the weatherpeeps...

Accordin' to the weatherpeeps, THAT'S ALL ABOUT TO CHANGE.  They're sayin' it's gonna be 'bout -28C come Friday night.  Saturday is gonna be super cold, too.  And in case you were wonderin' bout -28C...

-28C IS DARN RIGHT COLD.

Cold as in COLD.

MOUSES!

So like I said, I'm gonna need a new coat.

On the other paw, maybe I'll just enjoy a hot nip toddy and stay indoors.

Thank goodness I can do my business in the litter box, inside.

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.

indoor plumbin'

Saffron, you're wrong about that.  You're absolutely, one hundred percent wrong.  You're...

ARE TOO.

MOUSES!

Saffy, Saffy, Saffy...  If there's one thing I know, it's that I know when others are wrong.

MOUSES!

AM NOT.

No, Saffy.  No, no, NO.  I, Seville the Cat, am NEVER wrong.  Never, ever, ever.  And if I, Seville the Cat, am never, ever, ever wrong, I can't possibly be wrong right now.  If there's one thing I know...

Scratch that.  If there are TWO things I know, I know when others are wrong; and I know that I, Seville the Cat, never am.

Wrong, that is.

MOUSES!

Well let me ask you this then, Saffy.  Have you ever heard Peepers say she was gonna go use the little girls' room - or whatever she calls the human litter box these days - and then head outside to do whatever peeps do in human litter boxes?  Have you?  HAVE you?

Don't bother answerin' that, Saffron.  That there was a rhetorical question, for sure.  Thing is, you have NEVER heard Peepers say anything 'bout her goin' to the bathroom outdoors.  Never!  And do you know why that is?

Again, don't bother answerin', Saffron.  That there was another rhetorical question.  Thing is, Peepers is a civilised peep and civilised peeps believe in the advantages of indoor plumbin'.  And that would be indoor as in inside, as in INDOORS.  And we civilised cats believe in the same.  See what I mean?

No, Saffron.  NO!  That there space out there is NOT an outdoor bathroom.  It's not a bathroom at all.  It's not a litter box, a toilet, or anythin' else where a kitty or peep might do his or her business.  That there space is what those of us in the know - like me - call a flower bed.  FLOWER bed.  A bed for flowers.

What?  WHAT?  No, it's not a bed as in where one might sleep.

Well, maybe...  Maybe if you happen to be a flower.

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

NO.  NO!  No, Saffron, you are not a flower.  You're a cat.  Like me.

'Cept not as famous, of course.

SAFFRON!  Bottom line is this: you're not to be poopin' in Peepers' flowers.  Do what the rest of us cats do and have always done, and use the litter box - INDOORS - and...

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

Well yes, of course.  There are always gonna be times when a kitty can't quite make it to the litter box in time and when that happens, a shoe does usually suffice.

BUT NOT A FLOWER BED.  YOU HEAR?

Just wait 'til Peepers goes out there to plant her tulips.

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.

you who...

You who...

Oh, YOU WHO...

HEY YOU!  YOU!!!  Yeah, you, Peepers.  YOU!  Quit what you're doin' there, and look over here.  Look over here, at me.  I'm talkin' to you.

MOUSES!

Sometimes the soft gentle mewings of a gentlecat won't do, you see, and YOU'VE GOTTA HOLLER to get their attention.

What can I say?  Peeps.  Peeps'll be peeps.

MOUSES!

Hey Peepers!  OVER HERE.

MOUSES!

So Peepers, I was thinkin' the other day.  I was outside in the garden and I was thinkin'.  I was thinking 'bout how I couldn't help but notice that nice new litter box you set up for me out there.

What do you MEAN, what litter box?  WHAT DO YOU MEAN?

You know the one, Peepers.  It's about yea high and yea wide...

Oh, sorry.  Yeah, I know, my front legs aren't really long enough to give you an accurate description along with the yeas.

Hmmm....

Okay, so it's about four by eight paws, and comes up to my shoulders.  You know the one?

Yeah, I WAS WONDERIN' about that.  I was wonderin' why it was filled with dirt and stuff and not litter.  But I figured you ran out of litter or somethin'.  After all, it is a pretty big box.  Fillin' it would use up a lot of litter.  OR MAYBE, you wanted to give me the full outdoor experience.  When it comes to dirt and kitty litter, dirt is the more NATURAL of the two.

MOUSES!

But anyway, Peepers, that stuff doesn't matter.  I just wanted to thank you for the new outdoor litter box, and let you know how much I appreciate the effort you put in, and...

What do you MEAN that there litter box isn't a litter box?  WHAT DO YOU MEAN?

Nope, I'm gonna have to disagree with you on that, Peepers.  It works just like a litter box.  Just like a litter box should.

I know, 'cause I tried it out and everythin'.

MOUSES!

Peepers, if it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it probably is a duck, right?  AM I RIGHT?

Well...

Well if it looks like a litter box, works like a litter box, and smells like a litter box, it probably IS a litter box, and...

IT IS TOO.

MOUSES!

Okay, if you're so sure that there litter box is actually a raised bed for you to plant stupid lettuce and spinach and mustard and stuff, let me ask you this:

HOW COME THERE'S NO STUPID GREEN VEGGIES PLANTED IN THERE AND ALL THERE IS IS LITTER?

Well dirt, actually, but the fact is, there are no stupid green veggies in there.  Just dirt and...

Um...

Well...

Poopies.

Two lots, in fact.

MOUSES!

Like I said, IT'S A GREAT litter box.  Nice and roomy and everythin'.  Roomiest litter box I ever did use.

But...

But as there are now TWO lots of poopies in there, you might wanna get the scoop from the little boys' box next to the powder room, and go scoop out my new and improved OUTDOOR litter box.

Don't want it gettin' TOO stinky, you see.

MOUSES!

AND WHILE YOU'RE OUT THERE, YOU WANNA PUT UP A SCREEN OR SOMETHIN' SO THE NEIGHBOURS CAN'T SEE ME USIN' MY NEW BOX?

Nosy neighbours.  Can't a kitty have a little privacy 'round here?

It's not like I was usin' THEIR outdoor litter boxes to do my business.

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.

potty mouth

And it's another BEAUTIFUL day here in Nova Scotia.  The sun is shinin' and the air is fresh, and...

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

Well no, I wasn't talking 'bout the air in the immediate vicinity of the litter box bein' fresh.  I was talking 'bout the air outside, but...

BUT IT'S NOT MY FAULT THE LITTER BOX IS A TAD STINKY.

Seriously, Peepers, it's not my fault.  I didn't...

Okay, so maybe I did, but it's still not my fault.  You should be right there standin' over me whilst I do my business, scoop in hand, anxiously waitin' to scoop da poop outta there.

MOUSES!

Now where was I before bein' so RUDELY interrupted?

Oh yeah, it's ANOTHER BEAUTIFUL DAY here in Nova Scotia.

And because it's a beautiful day, I've been super duper busy.  I've been out in the garden multiple times, already.  Had to do my mornin' patrol, of course, sniffin' everythin' in sight.  Checked up on my nip plants, OF COURSE, and the little nippers are doin' just fine.  Oh, and I had a little snooze out in the sunshine.  All in all, my mornin' was pretty darned good.

But alas, the time for me to come indoors to have a little lunch and write up today's blog post came, and...

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

Well OF COURSE I used the litter box when I came inside.  YOU STILL GOIN' ON ABOUT LITTER BOXES AND STUFF?

NO...  No, I could NOT have used the facilities outdoors.

Well for starters, you usually complain 'bout my doin' such things.  But more to the poinr, I'M NOT SOME KINDA SAVAGE ANIMAL, YOU KNOW.  I, Seville the Cat, am a dignified cat.  A gentleman cat, for sure.  I don't go 'bout Peein' and PooPin' outdoors.  I prefer to use the Little Boys'  room, you see, and...

STOP TALKING 'BOUT MY LITTER BOX HAVIN' A STINK!

The bathroom doesn't smell like a bed of roses after you've done YOUR business, you know.

Okay, so scratch that.  Maybe it does.  Maybe it DOES smell like a bed of roses.  A bed of roses recently fertilised with manure.

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

My gosh I crack myself up.

MOUSES!

Yeah, that's right, Peepers.  You can dish it out but you can't take it, can you.

MOUSES!

WELL IF THE LITTER BOX SMELLS, QUIT YOUR GRIPING WOMAN, AND GO CLEAN THE DARNED THING OUT!

MOUSES!

I'm tellin' ya, this stayin' at home all day, every day, business really is for the birds.  It's drivin' me birdy...  I mean, batty, for sure.  Instead of writin' a dignified blog post fit for the writings of a dignified kitty such as myself, I've lowered the calibre of my writing to the level of litter box humour, and...

CLEAN IT OUT WITH SOAP, WOMAN!

Do I have to explain EVERYTHIN' to her?

MOUSES!

No, not my MOUTH.  The litter box!  Clean THE LITTER BOX out with soap and water.

I don't know how much more of this I can take.

MOUSES!

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

And remember:

IF IN DOUBT,

DON'T. GO. OUT.

Continue to practice SOCIAL DISTANCIN' measures

AND KEEP WASHIN' YOUR PAWS.

MOUSES!

Oohhh boy.

"Oohhh boy."  I scratched behind an ear with a hind leg before repeatin', a little more loudly this time, "Oohhh boy."

Peepers gave me that narrow lookin' stare of hers.  You know the one.  The one where she narrows her eyes while starin', lettin' me know she's not about to believe whatever it is I'm gonna say.

But a cat has got to defend himself, so I flung my front paws in the air and said, "Don't look at me.  I didn't make that mess.  MOUSES!"

I then joined in in the staring contest with the peep.  Fearing she might out stare me - which would, of course, be embarrassing - I decided to cut the contest short and concede.  "Have you asked that long-haired freak of a brother of mine about that mess?  Have you asked Rushton Tapio?  Have you?"

And with that, ol' Peepers spun on her paws...  I mean, feet, and walked out of the room.

MOUSES!

"YOU'RE HEADIN' IN THE WRONG DIRECTION!" I called after her, for I knew for a fact that Rushy was currently in the family room watchin' television, but the peep was makin' for upstairs.

Silly peep.

MOUSES!

Takin' matters into my own paws, I decided to ask Rushy 'bout the mess, myself.  "Hey Rushy!" I called, entering the family room.  "You know anything 'bout the mess in the litter boxes?"

Rushy looked up at me, all innocent like.

Innocent.  Yeah.  Right.

MOUSES!

"I said, you know anything 'bout that mess in the litter box?" I asked once again.  "Peepers is all hot under the collar 'bout one of us cats goin' to town to with the litter."

"I may have used one of the boxes earlier this morning," Rushton replied.  "Why do you ask?"

"Did you not hear me the first time?  I said, Peepers is all hot under the collar 'bout one of us cats goin' to town with the litter."

Rushton held up a claw.  "Firstly, the peep doesn't wear a collar."

I was about to explain to my long-haired freak of a brother that hot under the collar is merely an expression, and doesn't mean Peepers actually wears tags with her name and address or flea repellents 'round her neck, when Rushton held up a second claw.

"And secondly, a cat cannot go to town in a litter box.  Litter boxes have no wheels.  They cannot be used as a carriage."

I stared at my brother in disbelief.  Obviously, with the cooler weather encouraging him to stay indoors more, Rushton had been watchin' way too much so-called educational TV.

"Mouses, Rushy," I began.  "The peep wasn't talkin' about one of us hittin' the road in a litter box.  SHE WAS TALKIN' about one of us dumping at least half the kitty litter out of a litter box, onto the floor."

"She was exhAHHgerrrting, I am sure," was Rushy's response, which made me laugh, 'cause exaggerating is a pretty big - unknown prior to educational TV - word for that brother of mine, and when he pronounced it, it sounded kinda funny.  MOUSES!

Swallowing a chuckle I said, "Nope, not exaggerating at all.  I saw the mess myself.  There was kitty litter ALL OVER the floor.  It was behind the box, in front of the box, on both sides of the box...  My gosh, I didn't actually look, but I wouldn't be surprised if there was kitty litter underneath the box, too!  And the peep, by the way, was not pleased."

"But was she amused?"

I rolled my eyes.  "Have you been watchin' that show 'bout Queen Victoria again?  Never mind," and I waved him off.  "Don't bother answerin'.  I know for a fact you have."

Rushy let out a loud sigh.  "Sometimes a cat must kick up a little litter when..."

"DID YOU HAVE TO EVEN USE THE BOX?" I yelled at my brother.

"Why do you ask?"

"I ask on account of my seein' that mess you left back there, and even though there was litter all over the place, none of it had actually been used.   It all looked like clean litter.  It looked like some cat went into the box, kicked up litter all over the place just for fun or somethin', then immediately left the room."

"I didn't immediately leave the room," Rushy answered.  "I went into the box thinking I needed to pee, but when I realised I didn't, I dug around for a bit to see if digging might make me pee, which it didn't, so I dug around a bit more, but I still didn't need to pee, so..."

"So what?" and I glared at my brother.

"It's a lot harder to get the litter back into the box than it is to kick it all out."

I shook my head in disgust.

"Excuse me," said Rushton, jumping down from the chesterfield onto the floor.  Tail held high, he walked right past me.  "I believe I require the lavatory."

"The what?" I asked, screwing up my face as I tried to figure out what that darned, moused-up brother of mine was goin' on about now.

Hearing the distinctive sound of kitty litter bein' tossed about in the hallway outside the bathroom, I grumbled, "Oh for mousin' out loud.  He's makin' another mess with that litter and I'll probably get blamed for THIS ONE by the peep, too."

I scrambled after my brother and turning the corner, heard the sound of... Uh...  Well...  You know, the sound of what we kitties do when in the litter box.  Or lavatory.  Or whatever Rushy was callin' it now.


I looked at the floor.  Once again there was litter all over the place, but this time, no more so than usual.  I breathed a sigh of relief, realising ol' Peepers would take THIS mess in stride.

And speakin' of strides...

That was about when Rushy brushed past me, again with his tail held high.  After havin' used the ol' litter box, he was obviously on his way to watch more of his supposedly educational TV.

MOUSES!

reasons to sue

Reasons peeps sue.

Hmm...

Scratch that.

Top reasons peeps sue.

Hmm...

Scratch that, too.

Top reasons CATS sue.

Better.

MOUSES!

Okay, okay...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin', what have the peeps done now?

Actually....  Nothin'.  Nope, nothin' at all.

At least not today.

So far.

BUT I'm still makin' a list of things they MIGHT do, that might make me wanna sue.

MOUSES!

At the top of my list is: Providing' an insufficient supply of the nip.

Of course, that kinda goes without sayin', right?  I mean, I shouldn't even have to add that to my list.  It should be somethin' we all just...  You know...   KNOW.

But my list doesn't stop there, my friends.  Oh no.

Okay, so maybe it does, but that's 'cause I've ONLY JUST STARTED my list.  Give me another hour or two and I'll have more reasons, for sure.  Reasons like...

Uh...

Um...

I know!  Reasons like publicly postin' on-line, when some kitty uses the wrong side of the box.  That's gotta be a sueable reason, for sure.  PEEPS OUT THERE DON'T NEED TO KNOW 'BOUT EVERY KITTY'S LITTER BOX MISTAKES.

MOUSES!

Do we cats post 'bout PEEP bathroom issues on-line?  Huh?  HUH?  DO we?

Okay, so maybe we do.

But still...

MOUSES!

I'm tellin' ya, the other day I walked into the bathroom after Peep #1 had been in there, and the whole moused-up place STUNK like nothin' has EVER stunk before.  My gosh, the whole room smelled like roses.

Or maybe it was peonies...

Nah, it smelled of stinky ol' roses, for sure.

BUT DID I IMMEDIATELY GO ON-LINE TELLIN' THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD 'BOUT THE ROSE-STINKING BATHROOM HABITS OF MY PEEP?

Of course not.  Bein' a cat, I know better than that.

MOUSES!

Yeah, but one of us CATS makes a stink in the litter box, the next thing you know, there are stinkin' headlines 'bout the smell on every website, worldwide.

CAT STINKS UP LITTER BOX TO HIGH HEAVEN.

CAT OUT-STINKS LOCAL STINKAROO.

CAT USES LITTER BOX AND PEEPS FLEE OUTDOORS DURING SNOWSTORM.

You know, those sorta things.

Now SURELY THOSE are reasons to sue.

MOUSES!

You know, I don't think I even NEED a whole list of stuff over which I can sue.  I think my list is already long enough.  I think I've already given myself ample reasons to sue.  I think...

Actually, I think I'm gonna excuse myself and go use the litter box.  I'll let you know if shortly afterwards, I HAVE GOOD REASON TO SUE.

MOUSES!

PeepeRRRs...

Peepers, we've had this discussion before.

Peepers, don't make me say it again.

Peepers...

PEEPERS...

PEEPERS!

Stop.  STOP!  Stop that right now.  Don't make me come over there and give you a piece of my mind.

STOP, I tell you.  STOP!!!

Peepers...  You're EMBARRASSING me.

MOUSES!

For mousin' out loud.  I'm tellin' ya, a kitty in this house gets no privacy whatsoever.  No privacy at all!  A kitty can't even use the litter box without peeps lurkin' about.

Watchin'.

Takin' notes.

Okay, so there was no actual note takin', but still...

MOUSES!

What IS up with the watchin' of kitties while kitties are doin' their bathroom activities?

WHAT?

You'll never find us cats watchin' peeps while they're doin' their...

Okay, so maybe you will.

But in all fairness, what I've seen peeps doin' in bathrooms is somethin' no self-respectin' kitty has ever wanted to see. 

I mean...

Well first of all, peeps have no fur.

DID YOU KNOW THAT?

Fact.

Secondly...

Well nothin' really matters after that.

MOUSES!

But back to this business 'bout peeps watchin' us cats doin' our...  You know...  Business.

CAN A KITTY HAVE NO PRIVACY AT ALL?

And then, AFTER they invade our privacy by watchin' us...  You know...  Poop.  Well after watchin' us do that, what do they do?

I'LL TELL YOU what they do.

They say, "Good boy there, Sivvers.  Good boy."

WHAT'S UP WITH THAT?

First of all, I ALREADY KNOW I'm a good boy.  I don't need peeps tellin' me that.

And secondly, when they say it, WHY DO THEY SOUND SO SURPRISED?

And are they surprised that I'm good?  Or surprised that I've pooped?  Or surprised that I've pooped IN the box?

WHERE ELSE AM I GONNA DO IT?

WHERE?

You know, I once heard tell of a kitty who did it in a shoe.

Yup, TOTALLY true.

But that kitty was definitely not me.

So, as you can see,  I DON'T NEED supervision while I'm...  Doin' my...  Pee.

MOUSES!

I don't need supervision while usin' the litter box.  I don't need affirmation after I've used it.  And I MOST CERTAINLY DON'T need anyone watchin' me while I wash up.

No, what I DO NEED is a little privacy while usin' the bathroom.  Privacy, peeps.  PRIVACY!  It's this thing where you let us cats do our business in peace.

And...

Peepers!  I thought I told you to leave me alone.

Oh for the love of mouses.  If you're gonna be lurkin' about there, Peepers, why don't you make yourself useful and clean out the box.

MOUSES!

get out the masks!

Red alert!  RED ALERT!  Red alert on level one.  I repeat, red alert on level one.   Decontamination to begin in nine, eight, seven...

GET OUT THE MASKS!

Gas masks, Peepers.  Stat!  GET OUT THOSE GAS MASKS AND GET THEM OUT NOW.

What?  You mean to tell me you don't smell that?

Really?

Really?

Honestly and truly?

Are you SURE?

Take a deep breath, Peepers, and...

NOW you smell it, don't ya.

Not a question but rather, a statement of fact.

MOUSES!

Yeah, Mason used the litter box outside the downstairs bathroom door and it's a red alert, gas mask kinda event, for sure.

MOUSES!

OUCH!  What the mouses did you do that for, Mason?  Why did you smacky-paw me like..

Uh..  Never mind.  I think I might already know.

Boy oh boy...  SISTERS.  Sisters sure don't like to face the truth, do they.

Again, not a question but rather, a statement of fact.

MOUSES!

OUCH!  Again with the smacky-paws, Mason?  Why the mouses...

Uh...  Never mind.  I think I already know.

MOUSES!

You know...

You know, it's not my fault that every time you use the litter box, THE WHOLE ENTIRE STREET knows 'bout it from the smell, and...

OUCH!

Never mind.

MOUSES!

Like I said before...  SISTERS.

MOUSES!

Hey Mason!  You should bottle that scent and sell it to the government as a replacement for tear gas, and...

OUCH!

Yeah, that one I probably deserved.

But seriously, Mason, I'm thinkin' if you were to do that, you could make a small fortune, and...

OUCH!

Okay, so you could make a BIG fortune, and...

OUCH!

What was that...

Uh...  Never mind.  I think I already know.

MOUSES!

So uh...

Ummm...

So if I were to suggest we could make a fortune sellin' gas masks to peeps after you've used the ol' litter...

OUCH!

And if I were to suggest we could make a fortune sellin'...

OUCH!

You didn't even let me finish my sentence that time.  For all you know, I was gonna suggest we could make a fortune sellin' uh...

Ummm...

Roses?

Yeah, roses.  Mason, you and I could make a small fortune sellin' roses to peeps.

No smacky-paw that time, huh?  Well that's better.

So as I was sayin', you and I could make a small fortune sellin' highly scented roses to peeps to cover up the smell of your havin' used the ol' litter...

OUCH!

If I've said it once, I've said it a million and thirty-two thousand times...

SISTERS.

MOUSES!

revenge is sweet

Whoever first came up with, "REVENGE IS SWEET," was a Stoopidy-Doopity NincomPooP, for sure.

MOUSES!

And speakin' of nincompoops, you've MET my first peep, have you?

Yeah I know, I've used that line before.  But seriously, my friends, it's a great line.  It's a line worth repeatin', for sure.

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, my revenge on the being-kissed-on-the-top-of-my-head front didn't work out quite as I had planned.  Believe you me, there was NOTHIN' sweet about it, at all.

MOUSES!

As you might remember, my plan to get the peep back for kissin' me, was to kiss her right back, on the top of HER head, right after I had washed up, after doin' my business in the litter box.  It was a wonderful plan, my friends.  It was a WONDERFUL plan, for sure.  It was quite possibly THE GREATEST PLAN on the face of the Earth, ever.

What could possibly go wrong?

Well...

WELL...

Well where do I start?

MOUSES!

So here is what happened:  As planned, I washed myself up from the ends of my whiskers to the tip of my tail, immediately after havin' done my business in the ol' litter box.  Then, right after that, I tracked down the peep in the family room, hopped onto the back of the chesterfield, and planted a good ol' post-washin'-of-my-bum, slobbery kiss on the top of her head.

MOUSES!

And here is what DIDN'T happen:  The peep, bein' a peep, did not cry out in disgust as I had so joyfully anticipated.  No sirree, there was not a single disgusted cheep from that peep to be heard.  Nor did she jump up and insist on washin' her hair in the shower.  She didn't even rinse it down with a bottle of stinky ol' santitizer for paws.

OH NO, THE PEEP COULDN'T DO THAT.

MOUSES!

She did, however, cry.

Unfortunately, the cries were not of the weepy kind.

OH NO, THE PEEP COULDN'T DO THAT.

Those anguished cries of ewww I was expectin' to hear, were replaced with cries of, OH HOW CUTE!  And, DID YOU SEE THAT?  SEVILLE KISSED ME RIGHT ON THE TOP OF MY HEAD.  AWWW....

Well I sat there on the back of that ol' chesterfield, aghast and bewildered.  Bewildered beyond the realms of bewilderment.  I couldn't believe what I was hearin', my friends.  I COULDN'T BELIEVE WHAT I WAS HEARIN'!

Does the peep not realise I just washed my bum with the same mouth with which I kissed the top of her head?

So I thought for a bit.

Then I thought a bit more.

Maybe...

Maybe the peep doesn't understand what's goin' on.

Her not understandin' somethin' made lots of sense, you see, on account of my peep not fully understandin' most of the things that I do.

So...

So I Puckered uP Plenty, and Planted ANOTHER slobbery kiss on the top of her head.

Then I sat back, and I waited.

Well I didn't have long to wait, my friends.  I didn't have long to wait, at all, for mere moments later, there were EVEN MORE cries emmanatin' from that ol' peep.

Unfortunately, it was more cryin' of the very same kind.

And again, not a single cry of anguish or disgust was heard.

OH NO...  THE PEEP COULDN'T DO THAT.

Instead, I heard all 'bout how I was the most adorable and thoughtful and lovin' cat, ever.

WELL I ALREADY KNEW THAT.

I'm tellin' ya, my friends, I was about to smacky-paw her right upside the ol' head.

MOUSES!

But before I could even raise a paw for the smacky-paw of all smacky-paws, the peep got up from her seat, turned right around to face me, grabbed me by the cheeks, and then...

And then...

AND THEN...

AND THEN SHE KISSED ME, ON THE TOP OF MY HEAD.

AGAIN.

MOUSES!

ewww...

Ewww...

Don't worry, the peep didn't sit on one of my fur-sib's tossed cookies again.  Actually, what happened was way worse than that.

Ewww...

In fact, none of my fur-sibs even tossed their cookies today.  What happened was way worse than that.

EWWW...

No, there were no recent outside-of-the-litter-box accidents goin' around .  What happened was WAY worse than that.  It was way, way, WAY worse than that, for sure.

EWWW...

Give up?

Okay, I'll tell you.  I'll tell you what was way, way, way worse than kitties tossin' their cookies, and peeps sittin' on said tossed cookies, and stuff endin' up on the wrong side of the litter box.

Are you ready?

Are you sure?

Okay, here goes.

Wait for it...

Peep #1 kissed me.

EWWW...

Told you.  I TOLD you it was way worse than all of the above.

MOUSES!

Yup, Peep #1 picked me up in her arms, gave me a big ol' hug - squeezin' me way too tightly for comfort if you ask me - and then...

And then...

And then she kissed me.

MOUSES!

Right on the top of my head.


RIGHT WHERE I CAN'T REACH TO WASH OFF ALL HER ICKY PEEP GERMS.

And you know she has 'em.

Peep germs, I mean.

After all, she IS a peep.

MOUSES!

Apparently, the peep was feelin' kinda  guilty 'bout her raisin' her voice to me the other day 'cause I was whappity-whappin' that new plastic ball toy she gave us cats - REPEATEDLY - down the upstairs hallway in the middle of night.

And so she should.

Feel guilty, I mean.

But then to kiss me?

On the TOP of my HEAD?

Talk about addin' insult to injury.

MOUSES!

Well do you know what?  Do you know what I'm gonna do?

I'm gonna...

I'M GONNA...

I'm gonna get that ol' peep back.  Oh yeah, I'm gonna get her back, for sure.

I'm gonna....

Okay, so you can't actually see me right now, but if you could, you'd see a devilishly, devious smile growin' right across my face.  Yup, I'm smilin' just thinkin' about what I'm gonna do to that ol' peep to get her back.

And do you know what I'm gonna do, my friends?

Do you?

Well I'll TELL you what I'm gonna do.

The next time I use the ol' litter box, I'm gonna wash myself up from the ends of my whiskers to the tip of my tail, and then...

And then...

And then I'm gonna go kiss that ol' peep right back.

RIGHT ON THE TOP OF HER HEAD.

MOUSES!

too much to ask?

Let me tell you somethin', my friends.  Peeps can be such...

Such...

SUCH...

Well...

PEEPS.

MOUSES!

Why just the other day, there I was, sittin' on the bed, mindin' my own business, doin' a little washin', when out of nowhere came along one of those darned peeps.

FYI, it was Peep #1, but truth be told, both of my peeps have been guilty - NUMEROUS TIMES - of bein' peeps.  Not to mention bein' guilty of doin' peep-like things.

MOUSES!

And "MOUSES!" is exactly what I said.  And I said it with the loudest, most annoyed voice I could possibly muster.  'Cause like it or not, at that moment, my annoyance was most definitely what Peep #1 deserved to hear.

MOUSES!

Is it too much for a kitty to ask, to have a little privacy while said kitty is doin' his washin'?

Apparently, it is.

MOUSES!

You know, we cats start invadin' the privacy of peeps while they're doin' THEIR washin', and we never hear the end of it.

Okay, so truth be told, Peep #1 doesn't really mind my invadin' her privacy while she's doin' a little laundry down in the laundry room.  But laundry is a different kind of washin', for sure.  If we invade their privacy while they're in the shower...

MOUSES!

Yeah, that's just what peeps say when we cats invade their privacy while they're in the shower.

Believe, I know.

And don't even get me started 'bout what they say if they're usin' the litter box.

MOUSES!

But does that stop them from invadin' OUR privacy while WE'RE usin' the litter box?

The answer to that, my friends, would be a resounding no.  In fact, peeps are known to lurk around the litter boxes of cats, waitin', and watchin', like the snoopy peeps they are, until we finish doin' our litter box business.

Why peeps have this fascination with cats' litter boxes, I will never know, but like it or not, they do.

MOUSES!

Why, peeps have even been known to TAKE PICTURES of us cats while we're usin' the box.

Pictures!

CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?

MOUSES!

Do we cats take pictures of them, while they're doin' THEIR litter box business?

Not on your life.

Actually, postin' pictures of peeps usin' a litter box can get a kitty banned from a number of social media sites.

Not that I've ever done it myself.

It's just somethin' I've heard.

From the friend of a friend of a friend.

Or somethin' like that.

MOUSES!

You know, you'd think those social media sites would get on the ball, and start disciplining PEEPS, takin' pictures of cats doin' their litter box business, but OH NO...

Oh no, we couldn't have that.

And I suppose they do have their reasons.  Those social media site people probably know that if you take away all the pictures of cats on the Internet.

THERE'D BE ABSOLUTELY  NOTHIN' LEFT.

MOUSES!

oh yeah

Oh yeah,  Yup.  It's definite.  She's feelin' way better, for sure. MOUSES!

As some of you may have heard, my sister Mason had a bit of an upset tummy or somethin', a little while back.  Well the good news is, she's feelin' a whole lot better now.  The bad news is, she's feelin' so well, she's back to her ol' self.  MOUSES!

Now I should clarify that. Mason's ol' self is actually a pretty nice ol' self unless, of course, you're a peep.

Actually, I should clarify that further.  Mason's ol' self is a pretty nice ol' self unless you're a peep with zero self-control when it comes to touchin' tummies.  MOUSES!

What IS it with peeps thinkin' they can go around touchin' our tummies?  MOUSES!

You know, I have to admit, I'm a real tummy rub kinda kitty, myself.  I love the tummy rubs, for sure.  I'll take 'em mornin', noon, and night if I can get 'em.  Rain or shine, summer or winter, you wanna rub my tummy?  Well be my guest!  My tummy is there for the rubbin'.

Although...   As much as I love the tummy rubs, it sure would be nice if just once - JUST ONCE - the peeps would ask before...   You know...  Touchin'.

It's not like I'm askin' for a formal letter of request or anythin'.  No, they needn't go to that length. But a polite, "May I rub your tummy, Your Royal Highness?" or somethin' like that, would not go amiss.

Peeps however, have never been known for their politeness.  MOUSES!

I guess some peeps think it's better to beg forgiveness later, than to ask for permission, first. MOUSES!

But back to my sister Mason.

Mason is not like me.  Mason is not a tummy touchin' kinda gal.  No sirree.  You touch Mason's tummy, and Mason is gonna touch you right back.  Oh yeah.  She's gonna touch you right back, BIG TIME, for sure.

And when I say big time, I mean big time as in an epic kinda way.  My gosh, Mason's response to tummy touches is so big, she makes Niagara Falls look like a backyard water feature. Scratch that.  She makes Niagara Falls look like a backyard water feature in a fairy garden, right behind the wee little house, made just the right size for fairies.  MOUSES!

Oh yeah, you touch Mason's tummy and she's gonna be givin' you the bunny kicks with the hind claws, for sure.

That's just how my sister rolls. MOUSES!

But the odd thing is, when Mason wasn't feelin' well last week, she wasn't too concerned with the peeps touchin' her tummy.  Oh, I don't think she actually liked it or anythin' like that, but she didn't complain about it too much.

And yes, in case you were wonderin', the peeps were bein' all touchy-feely with Mason when she wasn't well, even though you'd THINK with her feelin' unwell, they'd give her a break with the touchin'.  But oh no, not my peeps.  My gosh, they were kissin' her, and askin' her if she was okay, and strokin' the back of her head, and basically annoyin' her to no end.  You know, basically bein' peeps.  MOUSES!

And I know for a fact that on more than one occasion, Peep #1's hand brushed against Mason's tummy, but not once did she put up a fight.

Mason, I mean.  Not the peep.

But anyway, let's fast forward to yesterday.

Yesterday, the peep - bein' a peep - went to touch my sister Mason's tummy and Mason gave Peep #1 a good ol' bunny kick, for sure.

Well...  Actually...  Actually, it was more of an attempted good ol' bunny kick, she gave.  Oh, Mason tried alright.  She was quick.  Quick as a bunny, one might even say.  But the peep?  The peep was even quicker.

You know, it's quite surprising how quickly the peep can move her hand out of the way, when need be.  MOUSES!

So basically, Mason is back to normal.  No touchin' of the tummy for her.  After all, like she says, one can NEVER BE TOO CAREFUL for one NEVER REALLY KNOWS just where those peeps' hands have been.

I, on the other paw, say BRING IT ON.  You wanna rub my tummy?   Well my tummy is there for the rubbin', although, as I mentioned earlier, a polite request would not go amiss.

And as for the not knowin' where the peeps' hands have been prior to the tummy rubbin' part, I'm not too concerned about that.  After all, I think nothin' of walkin' all over 'em after I've used the litter box so I figure, we're probably even.

MOUSES!

how rude

So I was walkin' down the hallway the other day, when I kinda sensed someone lurking behind me.  Spinning 'round on my paws I exclaimed, "HOW RUDE."

The peep, bein' a peep, didn't apologize or anythin'.

MOUSES!

Peeps, they have no sense of civility at all. Why, I have more civility in just one of my little claws, than most peeps have in their entire bodies.  MOUSES!

Of course, ol' Peepers here tried to defend her actions.

"Yeah, yeah," and I glared at the peep. "Just 'cause a cat can look at a queen, it doesn't mean you can look at me."

"Why not, you ask, oh furless one? 'CAUSE YOU'RE NOT A CAT.  MOUSES!"

Sometimes you've gotta explain the little details to the peeps.

And even then they're not likely to understand.

MOUSES!

"What?  WHAT?  What's that you're babblin' on about now?"

"Oh.  That.  Well..."

"Well while it may be true that if peeps were to go around sniffin' other peeps...  You know...  Parts unknown, the same thing does not hold true for us cats."

"Don't complain to me, Peepers.  It's just the way of the world.  A cat's gonna do, what a cat's gonna do.  Fact is, when you live in a multi-cat household, the time is gonna come when you're gonna see some cat sniffin' some other cat's butt.  Just be thankful we don't go around sniffin' yours.  MOUSES!"

Like I said, sometimes you've gotta explain the little details to the peeps.

And you've ALWAYS gotta explain the big ones to 'em, for sure.  MOUSES!

You know, rudeness comes in all forms.  Peeps starin' at cats - thinkin' they're entitled to stare - is especially rude, but they can be rude in other ways, too.  Why just the other day...

Just the other day, Peep #1 was whippin' up some cream and she didn't even bother to ask me if I'd like a spot.  Now if that isn't rude, what is?

"What?  WHAT?  What are you babblin' on about now?"

"Look Peepers, I may BE lactose intolerant, and maybe I CAN'T have any cream, but what harm would it do for you to ask if I'd like some?  You know, to offer me a little somethin' special, so that I might politely refuse?"

Like I said, peeps, they're as rude as rude can be. MOUSES!

And speakin' of rude...

Oh.  Wait a minute.  That might have been me.  MOUSES!

Anyway...

Anyway, like I was sayin', peeps are as rude as all get out, but there is NOTHIN' rude about one cat sniffin' another cat's butt.

Well, sometimes...  Yeah, SOMETIMES the cat whose butt is bein' sniffed....  Well sometimes that cat might disagree.  But honestly, butt sniffin'?  It's just somethin' we cats do.  And somethin' we cats ARE GONNA CONTINUE to do, no matter what their peeps might say.

"What?  WHAT?  Peepers, are you STILL babblin' on about silly nonsensical nonsense?"

"No.  Not at all.  Not even in the least.  Do I have to explain EVERYTHIN' to you?"

You know, it's a real wonder that ol' Peepers here can get herself up and dressed in the mornings. MOUSES!

"Okay Peepers, I'll explain.  It's like this.  When a cat is walkin' about the room with his tail held high, it's on account of said cat feelin' confident.  Now if said cat should happen to hop up onto the chesterfield or somethin', and accidentally turn 'round so that his butt ends up in your face, said cat is not bein' rude at all."

"On the contrary, it's more like uh...  Ummm...  Well..."

"Well it's more like a situation of your face bein' in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Speakin' of which...  Like I said before, it's not polite to stare.  So although I'm not bein' rude if I should happen to accidentally stick my butt in your face, you are most certainly bein' VERY rude if you should happen to stare at my butt."

"For mousin' out loud, woman.  IF YOU DON'T WANT MY BUTT IN YOUR FACE, TURN YOUR FACE AROUND!"

"It's bad enough you're always pokin' around in our litter boxes.  Do you see us pokin' around in yours?"

I'm tellin' ya, that ol' peep of mine is the VERY DEFINITION of rudeness, for sure.  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!

hey Peepers!

Hey Peepers!  Somebody threw up in the livin' room.

Well I thought you'd like to know, that's all.

'Cause I was tryin' to be helpful, that's why. MOUSES!

Try to help out a peep and what do you get? Nothin' but grief.  Nothin' but grief and..

NO...  It wasn't me.

Well how would I know?  I live here with five other cats.  Six, at the mo, on account of Dionysus havin' slept over for a few nights.  Could have been any one of us...

I mean, THEM.

MOUSES!

Well you're just gonna have to take my word for it, Peepers.  It wasn't me and that is a fact, for sure.

Hey Peepers!  Somebody pooped on the wrong side of the litter box in the downstairs bathroom.

NO...  It wasn't me.

Did you really have to ask?  I mean, would I do somethin' like that?  For mousin' out loud...

But now that I think about it, it was probably one of those long-haired marmie brothers of mine.  You know, on account of the downstairs bathroom litter box bein' a tad on the small side for them and...

'Cause!  'Cause like I said before, I was tryin' to be helpful.  And also like before, my helpfulness was greeted with nothin' but grief.  Nothin' but grief and...

HEY...  For all I know, it could have been you.  Yeah, YOU.

Peepers, did you happen to poop on the wrong side of the litter box in the downstairs bathroom today?

Quit your griping, woman.  I was merely askin' a question.

A question, if I may add, you had no trouble askin' of me.  MOUSES!

Hey Peepers!  Somebody knocked over the two big water dishes in the kitchen.

NO...  It wasn't me.

Actually...  Actually, that might have been me.

Let me see...  Did I knock over any water dishes as I was runnin' through the kitchen earlier today? Hmmm...

Nope, it wasn't me, Peepers.  I'm pretty sure the dish I knocked over was the one with the dry kibble for snackin' and...

Ummm....  Never mind 'bout that.  Pretend I said nothing at all.

Hey Peepers!  Somebody...

What's that, Peepers?  You don't wanna know?  You don't wanna hear any more of my helpful bits of information?

Really?

Really?

REALLY?

Well I'll be...

Then I don't suppose I need tell you 'bout what I did in the sunroom this morning, huh?

I mean, I don't suppose I need to point out how I did absolutely nothin' at all in the sunroom and...

And uh...  Um...

Never mind.

MOUSES!

litter wars

"Coming through.  Outta my way!  SHOVE OVER."

"Hey!  HEY!  Mason, watch where you're going.  Stop pushing, Mason.  Mason, I was...  Oof!  Ouch!  For mousin' out loud. MOUSES!"

"Ladies first, Seville.  Now let me past."

"What ladies?  Where are the ladies?  Oh, you mean you?"

"Yes I mean me."

"Really?  MOUSES!"

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

Any of you out there with a sister like that? Any of  you mancats have a sister who always insists on gettin' first dibs on the...

What's that, Peepers?  What?  Are you sure, Peepers?  But that was gonna be my topic for today's blog post.  Awww...  MOUSES!

I have been informed that it's not polite of me to tell the whole world 'bout my sister's litter box practices.  Apparently, what happens in the litter box, stays in the litter box.

Well we all know that's not true.

Let me tell you something.  Litter most certainly does not stay in the litter box when my sister Mason is about.  My sister Mason can fling litter like no cat has ever flung litter before.  One minute it's all in the box and the next minute, we have kitty litter raining all over the place.  It's like being in a sand storm or something out in the desert only with the desert being my house and the sand being li....

Mason, watch where you're flinging that stuff.  MOUSES!

No Peepers, I'm not telling the whole world 'bout Mason's litter box habits.  I'm just uh...  um... Never mind, Peepers.  There's nothing to read here.

So like I was saying...

Well let's just say that I was saying that we'll keep this here conversation between ourselves.  The peep does not need to know what I am about to write.  MOUSES!

But to be perfectly honest, it's not the flinging of the litter that I was gonna tell you about, anyway. Mason's flinging of the litter isn't all that big of a deal on account of the litter she flings usually being clean.  Just means the peep has to sweep up a whole lot of litter all of the time, is all.  The really big deal is why the litter is clean.

You see, my sister Mason feels she must always be first in line when it comes to using a litter box. MOUSES!

As many of you know, I live in a multi-cat household. What many of you will have surmised from this is that I live in a multi-litter box household as well and if you did surmise that, you'd be absolutely right.  Yup, we have a number of litter boxes, perpetually on the go.

And when I say perpetually on the go what I really mean is that these multiple litter boxes keep Mason perpetually on the litter box circuit.  The moment any one litter box is freshened up, Mason is right there, ready to do her business, even when she has no business to do.  MOUSES!

It's true.  She'll push and shove her way past any and every cat standing between her and a clean litter box whether she needs to use the facilities or not and most of the time she does not need to use 'em as no cat ever has needed to use that many litter boxes all of the time.  Oh yeah, a kitty would have to have the runs to be on the run like...

Okay...   Okay, I think I'm beginning to see the peep's point about not saying too much about my sister's litter box routine.  I think I may have crossed a line there but...

BUT just the other day, within moments of Peep #1 having refreshed the litter in one box, Mason was pushing past me to get right in there to fling the litter around.  One moment I was lifting a paw, preparing to step inside, and the next moment I was hitting the wall, having been shoved out of Mason's way.

Then came the flinging.  Yup, Mason was flinging litter here and flinging litter there and pretty much flinging litter everywhere only to stop when she heard the unmistakable sound of fresh litter being poured into one of the boxes in the basement.  At that point, she took a flying leap out of the box she was in, kicking out even more litter behind her, so that she could dash downstairs to get first dibs on the next newly cleaned box.

Now before anyone suggests it, this is not a medical thing or anything of the sort.  Mason just feels entitled to every clean litter box in the house.  It's kind of her thing.  MOUSES!

Peep #1 has learned to not clean out too many boxes all at once on account of it getting Mason so frazzled as she tries to dash from one box to the next; not to mention the possible injuries that may be incurred as Mason shoves the rest of us kitties out of her way.

When it comes to a clean litter box, no cat stands in Mason's way.

Once, I even saw Mason leap over my sister Tobias in her pursuit of a clean box.  Yup, just took a giant flying leap, right over her.  To be perfectly honest, I didn't think she had it in her but...  well... Well I guess I was wrong on that account 'cause she did.  MOUSES!

Now the peep may have learned to live with having to constantly sweep up litter but once - just once - I'd like to get first dibs on a box.  I know, more often than not, Mason hasn't really used the box except for having done some flinging of litter but every kitty enjoys a fresh box now and then, with its litter all intact, you know?  Of course you know.  MOUSES!

Sometimes, on a nice day, when Mason is outside sunning herself in the sun, I'll trot into the house and Peep #1 will take that opportunity to freshen up a box, just for me.  You know, make a nice pile of litter right there in the center.  Litter that has never been flung.  A nice high pile that I can get my paws into, feeling the litter between my toes.  Ahhh..  that's a real treat for a mancat like me.

Of course, the peep and I keep this to ourselves.  It's a bit of a secret, you see.  If Mason were to ever find out that the peep has been known to clean out litter boxes when she's not inside to hear 'em being cleaned, Mason would likely never step outside the house again.

Hmmm...  I guess that some things happening in the litter box really do stay in the litter box, after all.  MOUSES!