magic and wizardry

Previously on Nerissa's Life...

Seville found himself sitting at the base of a huge oak tree.  It looked exactly like the tree at the end of his driveway, only bigger.  The tree stood at the edge of a grassy, sunlit field.  He squinted in the bright sunlight. Mason appeared by his side and together, they took in the view before them.

"Oh my..." Mason gasped.

"OH MY MOUSES!" Seville yelled.

"Look yonder!" they heard someone cry, immediately before spotting a barrage of arrows heading their way.

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For a split second, the two cats watched in horror as the multitude of arrows approached them. Coming to their senses, they ducked in the nick of time.  Moments later, a bow-toting squirrel marched up to them both and demanded, "Whence came thou?"

Seville scrunched up his nose.  "Thou?  Who's thou?"

Mason kicked her brother with a hind paw and hissed, "He means us, Seville.  He wants to know from where we came?"

"How do you know that?" Seville hissed back.

Mason kicked him again.  "I watch PBS with the peeps."

"ENOUGH USELESS BANTER!" and the squirrel angrily stomped a paw.  "Who are you and what is this fiendish magic and wizardry at play?"

Mason was the first to gain her composure and extended a paw.  "My name is Mason and this is my brother, Seville.  We're cats and we came from..."

"From inside that tree!" and Seville pointed a paw in the direction of the tree behind him.  "We came from inside there."

"I knew it!" twittered a second squirrel who had scampered up behind the first.  "There is magic at work.  Some sort of evil spell and of that, I am sure.  One cannot come from inside a tree.  It is impossible."

"But we did.  Honestly," and Seville turned to point out the hollow in the tree, from where he and Mason had emerged.  But where there had been an opening minutes before, there was now nothing but the rough, grey bark of the oak tree.

By now, a dozen or so more squirrels had approached.  Mason and Seville backed up against the tree and the squirrels began to chatter amongst themselves, seemingly discussing what to do with the two cats.

Finally, one of the squirrels shooed the others away and approached Seville.  "Sir Cat, I do not know who you are, nor how you came to live with the spirits of the oak tree behind you, but perhaps you can help my friends and I."

"Me," interrupted Seville.

The squirrel raised an eyebrow and Mason hissed, "Enough with the grammar policing, Seville. Never annoy a squirrel who knows how to use a bow and arrow."

"But he should have said, my friends and me...  Awww...  Never mind.  MOUSES!"  Seville turned back to the squirrel.  "Go on."

"Perhaps you can help my friends and me," Seville smiled as the squirrel continued.  "Our friend, Robin, has been missing for what seems likes an eternity.  He left more than a fortnight ago, in search of acorns, but has yet to return.  We are worried he has been captured and imprisoned."

Mason sidled up to Seville and the squirrel.  "But why do you think my brother and I might be of assistance?"

"Because you yourselves admit to having been to the land inside the oak tree.  You claim to have exited that very tree, using magic and wizardry and.."

"Uh hold on a minute there, you merry little squirrelly fellow, you," Seville interrupted.  "My sister and I never admitted anythin' about usin' any kind of magic.  At least I don't think we did.  Did we, Mason?  I know we seem to have travelled through an inter-dimensional vortex of some kind, perhaps even to an alternate universe.  Might even have been a tad of time travellin' involved.  But that's not magic.  That's science!"

The squirrel raised an eyebrow again and Mason helpfully translated, "He means, alchemy."

"How do you know that?" Seville asked his sister.

"I told you.  I watch PBS with the peeps.  You need to start watchin' it, too."

"But I do..."

"No, you fall asleep while cuddling with the peeps, while I watch PBS with them," Mason scowled.

"Awww...  MOUSES!"

"Who are these mouses of whom you continually speak?" asked the squirrel.

"Ummm...  Not important.  Now tell me more 'bout your pal," Seville encouraged the squirrel.  "He's a red-breasted bird, you say?"

"No, he's a squirrel."

"But I thought you said he was a robin."

Sighing loudly, the squirrel explained, "His name is Robin, but he is a squirrel, I can assure you.  As am I."

"Well I can see that.  Why didn't you tell me he was a squirrel too, in the first place?" and Seville sat back on his haunches.  He lifted a paw to scratch behind an ear.  "So you say your pal went off lookin' for acorns, but he never came home, huh?  He ever disappear like that before?"

"He has been captured many a time.  Even imprisoned!  But we've searched all the dungeons and cells for miles around, and found not a trace of our friend.  He is nowhere to be found.  But that was to be expected, I'm afraid, for the last we saw of dear Robin, he was climbing up that very tree from which you appeared, and not anywhere near the village where he might run afoul of the Sheriff and his men."

"So you think he's lost up in the tree?  MOUSES!"  Seville craned his neck and looked way, way up.  "Well it is a very big tree. "  He caught movement out of the corner of an eye and asked, "Mason, what the mouses are you up to now?"

"Don't be silly.  I'm measuring the oak tree.  Boys!" and Mason finished up what she was doing. "Just as I thought.  This tree, and the oak tree at the end of our driveway, have a size differential of..."

The sound of horses approaching interrupted Mason's explanation and the two cats, along with all the squirrels, looked off toward the noise.

"It's the Sheriff!" cried one of the squirrels.

"Run!" cried another.

"Hide!" yelled a third.

"How are your climbin' skills, sis?" asked Seville, and the two cats dashed up the tree, as high as they could go.


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Be sure to return on Sunday for part three of our adventure.

finders keepers... maybe

"Two hundred and nine, two hundred and ten, two hundred and eleven..."

Creeping up behind Seville, Mason leaned over her brother's shoulder to ask, "What are you doing?"

"I'm just...  Awww... MOUSES!  You made me lose count, Mason. One, two, three..."

"Lose count of what? What are those things? They look like gold coins."

"That's 'cause they are gold coins," Seville explained, excitedly.  "Darn it.  I've lost count again.  One, two, three..."

Mason chuckled while turning to leave.  "Gold coins.  What will he think of next?"

"But they ARE gold coins," declared Seville, standing up on all four paws.  He gently bit down on one of the coins and held it out for his sister to see.  "Look, my fangs made marks.  That means it's real gold, for sure.  MOUSES!"

"Let me see that," and Mason grabbed the coin out of Seville's paw.  "Oh my mouses, Sivvers.  It is real.  Where the heck did you find a stash of gold coins?  Have you been holding out on us regarding those nip futures or something?"

"Nope," Seville replied smugly.  "Come on, guess again.  Bet you can't!"

"You haven't...  You haven't...  You haven't gone into business with the Weasel Syndicate, have you?" Mason asked hesitantly.  "I know they're constantly offering get-rich schemes, full of promise and everything, but the weasels are really nasty little varmints, Seville."

"Me doing business with weasels?  NEVER.  Have a little faith in your brother, Mason.  Besides, I learned my lesson 'bout working with them last time.  MOUSES!"

"Then where did you...?"

"I found the whole lot of these coins out in the backyard this morning," and Seville grinned from ear to ear, making himself look like the Cheshire Cat.  "There there were, sitting in a pot, waiting for me to find them."

"In our backyard?" Mason asked incredulously.

"Yup, right there at the end of the rainbow.  If you remember, it was raining this morning and then the sun came out and then there was a rainbow.  I was super lucky to discover that its end was right here in our backyard.  Very fortuitous, indeed."

"Fortui...?"

"It means," Seville began to explain.

"I KNOW WHAT IT MEANS.  Just didn't know you knew what it meant, is all.  Besides, I'm not entirely sure that that is how you should describe it.  Fortuitous, I mean."

"Mason, I have no idea what you're talking about.  All I know for sure is that I need to count up these coins and that once again, I've lost my place.  One, two, three..."

"Seville, did you ever wonder how that pot of gold came to be in our backyard?"

"Nope," Seville answered.  "I did tell you 'bout the rainbow, right?  Mason, it's a well-known fact that pots of gold can be found at the ends of rainbows.  Didn't you learn anything in school?"

Mason bit her lip, resisting the urge to smack her brother upside of the head.  "Seville, I think that maybe that pot of gold might belong to someone.  Pots of gold don't just materialize at the ends of rainbows."

"Actually, they do," explained Seville.  "At least I think they do.  They must.  How else did this particular pot of gold end up at the end of one in our backyard?  Mason, do I have to explain everything to you?"

"But," began Mason.  "But what if this particular pot of gold did belong to someone?"

"Finders keepers, Mason.  It's the law of the jungle, you know.  The fact that we don't actually live in a jungle is irrelevant.  Fact is, I found the gold and the gold, therefore, is mine.  MOUSES!"

"Or perhaps it is his," and Mason pointed to a face peering in through a window.

The two cats stood motionless, staring at the face in the window.  The face in the window stared right back at the two cats before gazing down at the pot of gold coins sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor.

"Ummm..."  murmured Mason.

"Oh boy," whispered Seville.

"Uh...  Um..." Mason stammered.

"That there is a leprechaun," Seville stated in a very low voice.

"A very angry leprechaun, by the looks of it," added Mason.

"An EXTREMELY angry leprechaun who is looking for the marmalade cat who stole his pot of gold," yelled the leprechaun as he opened the back door and marched into the kitchen.

"Excuse me, Mr. Leprechaun sir, but uh...  But I'd just like to point out that although I do have a few hints of ginger in my fur, here and there, technically I'm cream.  Seville's the marmalade cat around here," and Mason pointed a paw at her brother.

"Way to go, sis," Seville hissed under his breath.  "Thanks for having my back."

The leprechaun glared at Seville with beady eyes.  "Exactly what do you think you're doing with my pot of gold there, you orange ball of fur."

"I was uh...  I was um..."  Seville swallowed, hard.  "I was...  I was merely counting the coins... Making sure they were all still...  Ummm...  You know, keeping them in safe keeping for you, for your return."

"What happened to finders keepers?" Mason whispered into Seville's ear.

"Finders keepers applies to peeps, other cats and weasels," Seville hissed.  "Leprechauns are a whole different kettle of fish."

"Mr Leprechaun," Mason coughed nervously but stood up firmly on all four paws.  "It seems to me that we have a bit of a dilemma at paw.  Legend has it that if a cat can catch a leprechaun, said leprechaun has to reveal his pot of gold to said cat.  Now my brother here might actually be the true owner of this pot of gold.  He could make a case that as he found your gold and now we have apparently caught you..."

"He did no such thing!" the leprechaun cried.  "He never caught me.  I only have to reveal my gold if you catch me..."

And with that, Mason swiped at the leprechaun and caught hold of his jacket with a claw.  "Like this?" she asked, holding him up like a cat would hold a rat.

The leprechaun struggled, trying to free himself.

"Not so mean looking now, are you," Mason said and added, "Might I say, you're a very little leprechaun to have such a big pot of gold."

"Let me go!  LET ME GO!" and the leprechaun continued to struggle.

"I think you should let him go," Seville told Mason.  "Look how red his face is getting.  If he was angry before I don't know what he's gonna be..."

"I'll tell you what," and Mason lowered the leprechaun onto the floor, still holding onto him with a claw.  I'll exchange your freedom for your pot of gold."

The leprechaun pursed his lips together.  "The legend says I do have to take you to my gold in exchange for..."

"But we already have your gold," blurted out Seville.  "Got it right here," and he pointed toward the gold.

Narrowing his eyes, the leprechaun said, "But do you have my even bigger pot of gold?  The pot of gold that makes this one look like a mere trifling..."

"You have an even bigger pot of gold?" gasped Seville.  "Mason, do you have any idea how much nip we could get with an even bigger pot of gold?  We could..."

Mason glanced over at Seville, loosening her grasp on the leprechaun for only a moment but a moment was all it took and right before their very eyes, the leprechaun and the pot of gold vanished like magic.

"Awww.... MOUSES!" Seville cried.  Sitting back on his haunches he said, "legend also has it that those little green fairies are slippery and sly.  Was he too slippery to hold onto, Mason?  Is that why you let go?"

"Wrong kind of slippery, Seville," answered his sister.  "Never pays to be too greedy, I suppose."

"Nope, never does," Seville stated.  The corners of his mouth began to curl up into a smile.  "But it does pay to be careless!  Looky here. I happened to be sitting on this coin when the little feller and his gold disappeared."  Seville bit into it.  "Yup, solid gold, for sure.  Nip store here I come!"

"I think you mean here we come," Mason grinned.  "Come on, we can teleport over in a jiffy and get ourselves a whole gold coin's worth of really good nip."

"We sure can," agreed Seville.  "And as luck would have it, we'll get it just in time for St. Patrick's Day, too.  MOUSES!"

disappeared like magic

You're in big trouble now, Rushy.  BIG trouble, for sure.  Peep #1 know 'bout this?  Of course she does.  MOUSES!

Let me start at the beginnin'.

It was like magic.  That's right... MAGIC.  In the blink of an eye, Rushton had disappeared like magic.

Well maybe he didn't disappear in the blink of an eye.  Peeps don't actually know how long it took Rushy to do his little vanishin' act as they weren't watchin' him at the time but he still disappeared like magic.

Let me explain.  The peeps were lookin' for Rushton.  Don't know why they were lookin' for him but I'm assumin' they had a reason.  There must have been a reason.  They usually do have reasons. Not necessarily good reasons but reasons, nonetheless.  But in all the excitement of Rushy's new magic trick, any reasons - good or bad - were forgotten.

So the peeps were lookin' for Rushton.  They looked high and they looked low.  They looked upstairs and they looked downstairs.  They looked on top of chests of drawers and they looked underneath beds.  They looked everywhere.

Peep #1 kept goin' back into the livin' room 'cause truth be told, she was sure she had seen Rushton in there, earlier in the day.  She was positive.  But he wasn't behind the couch or chairs.  He wasn't under the table or on any of the dining room chairs.  He wasn't anywhere to be found.

But you see, the doors to the livin' room were shut.  Had he been in there earlier, he couldn't have gotten out.  And Peep #1 was sure he had been in there earlier so it only made sense to her that he still was.  She'd go out and look somewhere else but she repeatedly returned to that room, positive that he must be there.

Peep #1 called to Rushy numerous times.  I know.  I heard. No one answered.  Could Rushy not hear her or was he simply ignorin' her.  When it comes to cats, either is possible although truth be told, the latter is more likely than the former.  MOUSES!

Eventually, the peeps gave up on findin' Rushton.  Peep #1 plunked herself down on the couch in the livin' room, hopin' and prayin' that Rushy was okay, wherever he was.  By this time, the reason for searchin' for him was long forgotten and even the belief that he had ever been in the living room was bein' questioned.

Then it happened.  Peep #1 watched as Rushton slowly emerged from inside the chair.  MOUSES!

Yes, he emerged from inside the chair.  The big, light green chair.  Not from underneath but rather, from INSIDE.

Of course, when I found out about Rushy's secret hidin' spot, I immediately had to check it out for myself.  Crawling in under the big, light green chair, I pushed my head into the inner workings of it.

Man, what a set-up he had.  SWEET.

Rushton had managed to tear a whole in the black netting underneath the chair and burrow his way into the chair, itself.  Since most of the netting still remained, he was able to curl up on it, like it was a hammock.  NICE.  The space was small enough to feel cosy and secure but at the same time, there was enough room to really stretch out in, if so desired.  VERY NICE, indeed.

I thought to myself, I have got to get a hidey-hole like this!

Lookin' around the room, I quickly realised that none of the other chairs would be suitable for creatin' such an amazin' hidey-hole but...  but there was the couch.  The couch would make an excellent hidey-hole, for sure.

I padded over to the couch.  Hmmm...  Yup, yup...  Uh-huh...  Hmmm...  Just as I thought.  The couch would work.  I could do a similar tearin' of the black netting to access the inner recesses of the couch.  In fact, the couch was big enough that I could create two points of entry.  Then on one side, I could have a little restin' spot like the one Rushy had in his chair and on the other side, I could create a little guest room or better yet, a spot for entertainin'.  Yes!  No reason why I couldn't invite a brother or sister into my couch-house where we could chat about world events and whatnot. Share a laugh or two over whatever stupid things the peeps had done that day, without bein' overheard by said peeps.

My couch-house could be like a private clubhouse.  NO PEEPS ALLOWED.  Not that they'd fit even if they tried.

Of course, if I was gonna be entertainin' in my couch-house, I was gonna have to do a little decorating.  A nip mouse here and there, scattered like pillows.  Perhaps I could get the peep to knit me up a few in various shades of green and cream to co-ordinate with the soft green of the couch. Maybe a couple other nip toys, as well.  No room really for wand toys in there.  Besides, wand toys require interaction with peeps and like I said, in my secret couch-house there would be NO PEEPS ALLOWED.  Not that they'd fit even if they were.

And snacks!  I'd have to set up a little corner with some treats and whatnot.  A few bags of treats and perhaps a saucer or two for cream.  Oohhhh...  and if I could find a source of nip beer, that would definitely be somethin' I'd like to have on offer.  Nothin' like havin' company over for a few laughs over a nip beer or two.  Or three...

I was dreamin' about my plans for my secret couch-house and droolin' over the thought of nip beer when it dawned on me that if Rushton was in trouble for turnin' the insides of the chair into a secret bachelor pad, I might get into trouble for turnin' the insides of the couch into a couch-house, clubhouse.  MOUSES!

But then I realised that Rushy had been enjoyin' the privacy of his little bachelor pad for who knows how long without the peep knowin' a thing about it.  Not even I, Nerissa the Cat, had known about it and honestly, I usually do know about such things.  And to this day, none of us would have known anythin' about it had Rushy not made the mistake of exiting the chair while Peep #1 was in the room.

Well, I simply wouldn't make such a silly mistake as that.  I, Nerissa the Cat, would never make such an error in judgement.  And as I was plannin' on creating two points of access for my secret couch-house, I would make sure that at least one of these access points was hidden from the pryin' eyes of the peeps  As long as the peeps were unaware of my secret plans for buildin' my secret meetin' place, I wouldn't get into trouble.  MOUSES!

I'm currently in the plannin' stages of creatin' my secret couch-house, clubhouse.  I'm still decidin' exactly where I'll rip into the black nettin'. I also need to figure out which part of the space will be allocated for restin' and which part for entertainin'.  After all that's done, I'll start aquirin' the necessary nip toys and whatnot to create a nice homey atmosphere.  Then I'll need to find some nip beer.

Of course, the peeps would be breathin' down the back of my neck if they knew what I was plannin'.  Judgin' from the words the first peep said to Rushy about the chair, the words she'd be sayin' to me would not be of the overly friendly sort.  The peeps would be climbin' right up into my couch-house, breathin' down my back and sayin' words not fit to be uttered in the presence of a cat like me.  Well, that's what they'd be tryin' to do except, of course, in my couch-house there will be NO PEEPS ALLOWED. Not that they'd fit even if they knew.

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By the way, VOTIN' for the Petties Awards is still goin' on.  You can VOTE once a day, EVERY DAY, from now until August 7th.  Won't you please vote for me?  I'd really appreciate it a lot. purrs