our new loo!

Some of you may have heard that we have a new flower bed in the front yard.  Kinda have a couple of 'em, actually.

Well they're not so much new as...  hmmm...  uh... different.  Yeah, different. Different from what they were before.

You see, we used to have these three big ol' cedar thingies in the front yard, right up by the house.  Bit by bit, Ol' Peepers has been gettin' rid of 'em and finally, last week, the peeps had someone come over and take away the roots.  They're gone now.  Outta here.  Never to be seen again.

Truth be told, I was sorry to see the cedars goin', at first.  I loved those cedars.  As a kitten, I used to play in those cedars and hang out in them, waitin' for Peep #1 to come out and talk to me and say nice things to me and teach me how to play with nip mice and whatnot.

That was when I was still livin' outside with my mama and fur-sibs.  When I was still feral but beginnin' to learn that my Peep #1 wasn't evil or anythin'.  Good times.  I remember them like they were yesterday even though they were actually eleven years ago.

Anywho...  Since Ol' Peepers took like...  A YEAR to get rid of the cedars completely, I've had plenty of time to get used to the idea.  In fact, in the past few months, I've been quite anxious for the beds to be cleared out properly.  They were lookin' pretty messy with half a cedar, here, and a quarter of one, there.  It was embarrassing.  Nosey-neighbour-cat didn't have partial cedars scattered around at his house.  He was mockin' me over the whole affair. "You've got messy cedars...  You've got messy cedars..." he would taunt.

Then last Friday, the last of the cedars' bits and pieces were removed and the upper bed was free from all plants and the soil, levelled off.  The lower bed still had some stuff like honeysuckle in it but in the biggest corner where the third cedar had been, it was all cleared out.  Those beds were lookin' pretty good.  They were ready for plantin'.

Of course, my first reaction to the beds was...  NIP!  The peep is gonna plant us up a nice big ol' nip garden right here in the front yard, I thought.  I was gettin' really excited about the idea.

Mason felt otherwise.  She took one look at those new beds and cried, "Our new loo!"  She pranced and she danced as only a Mason will do.  She hopped right in there and started diggin'.

I tried to explain to Mason that these were flower beds and not a big ol' loo.  Then I got to thinkin'. Maybe it was our new loo.  We lost our old one when Mason was supposed to be supervisin' the peep and allowed Ol' Peepers to plant it up with primroses.

And if these beds were meant as the new loo, it was a way better loo than the previous one.  Upper and lower levels.  Very spacious.  Nice, soft earth free from plants and whatnot that would only get in our way.  "Wow!" I exclaimed to Mason.  "I think you're right about this.  Ol' Peepers has built us a deluxe model loo.  EXCELLENT."

I was bettin' the peep built the new loo in order to celebrate the publishing of my 300th blog post which, by the way, is this here post I'm publishin', today.  A super-duper, deluxe model, multi-level, brand-spankin' new loo would be a great way to celebrate that, for sure.

Long story short, by nightfall, several of us had used the new loo as...  well...  a loo.  I happened to use it myself.  Biggest outdoor litter box I had ever seen, much less used.

The next mornin', I was informed by the peep that the super-duper, deluxe model, multi-level, brand-spankin' new loo was not, in fact, a loo but rather, a couple of flower beds.  MOUSES!

But all was not lost 'cause if it wasn't the best outdoor litter box that ever-there-was, it would still make a really nice nip bed.  Ah....  nip.  The glorious plant that is the nip.  Flower beds that size would hold a whole whack of nip plants, I thought to myself.  Life was good.

That's about when I saw that the peep had some newly purchased tulip and hyacinth bulbs.  "What are you gonna do with those?" I asked her.

"You're gonna what?" I cried.  MOUSES!

You guessed it, Ol' Peepers was intendin' on plantin' the tulips and hyacinths in my nip bed.  Right there in my nip bed.  MY nip bed.  My NIP bed.  My bed meant for nip.  Not only that, there was talk of delphiniums and phlox, too.

I fired up the ol' computer and did a quick search for catnip.  I pulled up some pictures and showed 'em to the peep sayin', "Now look here, Peepers. THIS is what nip looks like."  Then I pointed to some pictures of tulips and said, "See those?  Those aren't nip plants.  Those are tulips.  Now look over here.  Hyacinths.  Repeat after me...  hi-ya-sinths,  Not nip."

Needless to say, the peep was not impressed by my lessons in horticulture.  At least not favourable, anyway.

Bottom line is, the loo is not a loo and the nip beds are not for nip.  They're for flowers.  Flowers that are not nip.  MOUSES! 

excuse me but... where's the loo?

You give a sister a job to do.  One little job.  One measly, teeny-tiny, little job and what happens? Nothin'.  Or everythin'.  It all depends upon how you're lookin' at it, I suppose.

I went outside the other day to use the loo.  Oh sure, we have indoor plumbin' and everythin' but every now and then a guy likes to use the great outdoors.  Be one with nature, so to speak.

I have this favourite little spot, just behind the crab apple tree Ol' Peepers planted at the edge of my primrose garden.  The tree is gettin' big enough now to give me a little privacy from pryin' eyes and the ground is nice and soft on account of the peep gardening in and about the area.  It really is the perfect spot for a loo.

So I went outside for a little bathroom break and headed on over to the crab apple tree.  I could immediately tell there was somethin' wrong.  Somethin' didn't look right.  Somethin' was amiss. "MOUSES!" I cried..  "Where's my loo?"

My sister, Mason, just happened to be walkin' past at that very moment.  I gave her the ol' stink eye before askin', "Mason, excuse me but...  WHERE'S THE LOO?"

"Do you mean that guy who moved in over on the other street?  I think his name might be Lou," she replied.  "Or maybe it was Larry..."

"Not Lou.  LOO.  Mouses, Mason.  Try to pay attention, would ya?

After a thorough interrogation of my sister, I had my answer.  The day before, when I had asked Mason to supervise the peep while she was gardenin' so that I could catch up on some nappin', Mason had apparently dropped the ball.  She had dropped the ball right into my loo.  In the soft, rich earth surrounding the crab apple tree, Mason had allowed Peep #1 to plant more primroses.  Mason had allowed Peep #1 to extend the primrose garden and infringe upon the area previously known as my loo.  What was a cat to do?

I stomped back inside the house to use the litter box, callin' behind me, "I have more questions for you, Mason.  You just wait right there.  I'll be back in a mo."

"Mo?" queried Mason?  "Do you mean Lou's wife, Maureen?"

Clearly, Mason was not equipped for tasks such as the supervising of peeps.

A little while later, I ventured outdoors again to continue the interrogation of my sister.  I needed to know exactly what else the peep had been doin' while gardenin' without the necessary supervision.  The supervision Peep #1 so obviously required.

Mason pointed over to an area under some trees. "That's where she planted the sad poppies," she explained.

I looked at my sister, narrowing my eyes.  "The poppies were sad?  Were they half-dead or somethin'?"

"I don't know," answered Mason.  "The peep said they were blue so I assumed they must be sad.  At the time, I was grooming myself and not really paying a lot of attention to her."

I padded over to the newly dug bed and gave the plants a sniff.  They didn't look sad.  They didn't look blue, either.  Of course, they weren't blooming yet but everyone knows that the flowers of poppies are pink and red and yellow.  Even orange.  Even white.  Not blue.  I had never heard of blue poppies, before.

I headed inside to do some on-line research and what did I find?  There was such as thing as blue poppies.  Poppies that were blue.  Who knew?

And my gosh, were they ever beautiful.  I poured over picture after picture of the Himalayan blue poppies on the Internet.  Was the peep really growin' those?  Was she up to such a task?

Probably not.  Actually, definitely not.  Thinkin' about it further, I realised that the peep had, in fact, tried growing those plants before.  She had tried and she had failed.  Failed, miserably.  Failed like no one had ever failed in the history of peepkind.  She didn't get a letter F.  She didn't deserve a letter F.  She got a Z and that was if gradin' with leniency.

No way, no how, was Ol' Peepers gonna get those blue poppies to bloom.

But then I got to thinkin'...

I bet I could help the peep with her blue poppies.  She has grown other kinds of poppies before.  Poppies that are easy to grow.  Shirley poppies and Icelandic poppies and whatnot.  Maybe if she were to grow some of those other poppies, I could...

YES!  I had my answer.  I had a plan.  I knew what I must do.

Next year, when other, easy-to-grow poppies are bloomin' away in the garden, I'll sneak out in the dead of night, and paint those poppies, blue.  The peep'll never know the difference.  I'll paint 'em really well.  It'll make her day.  Paintin' poppies.  That is EXACTLY what I shall do.  MOUSES!

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Only two days left!  Votin' for the Petties is still goin' on but will end at midnight, PST, on Thursday August 7th.  You can still vote today and tomorrow.  Won't you please vote for me?  I'd really appreciate it a lot.  purrs