seventy-nine weeks

Are you gonna put up with that, Saffron?  Are you gonna put up with that crap?

You ARE?

MOUSES!

By gosh and by golly, I, Seville the Cat, would not be puttin' up with that.  Bad enough I've had to put up with those two good-for-nothin' peeps I call my own, for the past four hundred and thirty million, twelve thousand, eight hundred cat seconds.  I'm certainly not gonna be puttin' up with anythin' more!

MOUSES!

Are you SURE you're gonna put up with that, Saffron?  Are you SURE?  You're not just bein' extra sweet and nice, hopin' that if you are, you'll get more treats?

You DID?  You did get more treats?  REALLY?

MOUSES!

So you're sayin'...

So you're sayin'...

So you're sayin' that if you sit quietly on the veranda chair while watchin' that neighbourhood cat eat all your fuds, not makin' a fuss at all...

THEN PEEPERS WILL COME OUT AFTERWARD AND GIVE YOU MORE FUDS?  PLUS MORE TREATS?

WHY THE MOUSES DID I NOT KNOW 'BOUT THIS BEFORE?

MOUSES!

So that's what happened, huh?  Because that neighbourhood lad ate all your fuds...  And you were so good about it, lettin' him eat all your fuds and all...  And because Peepers KNEW you were so good about his eatin' all your fuds...

Because of all that...

Because of all that, YOU GOT MORE FUDS?  AND MORE TREATS, TOO?

MOUSES!

I've been doin' this all wrong, all these years.

And why do you think this neighbourhood cat is eatin' your fuds, Saffy?  You don't think he's starvin', do you?  He doesn't look like a starvin' boy.  He LOOKS like he hasn't missed many meals.  He...

What's that?  What's that, Saffron?  What's that you're sayin', now?

You're sayin' he has a big appetite on account of his bein' orange?  Orange cats will eat whether they're actually hungry or not, you say?  You say it's a well-known fact orange cats have the ability to eat their weight in treats?  Orange cats have a tendency to be on the plus side, you say?  You say orange cats...

HEY...

WAIT A MINUTE THERE, SAFFY SAFFRON SAFFERS...

I, SEVILLE THE CAT, AM ORANGE.

And I'll have you know, I am NOT fat.

I'm big-boned.

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.

twenty-one weeks

You met my WHAT?

MOUSES!

Peepers, let me get this straight.  While out walkin' the other night, you say you met my...

My...

My DOPPELGANGER?  Is that what you met?

MOUSES!

*scratches behind an ear*

While out on a walk, you say.

*scratches behind the other ear*

MOUSES!

But what were you doin' siftin' through the litter box while out walkin'?

And HOW were you siftin' through the litter box while outside, walkin'?

And how did the litter box end up outside in the first place?  Litter boxes are INDOOR plumbing, Peepers.  INDOORS!

And why...

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

What do you MEAN doppelgangers have nothin' to do with litter boxes and litter?

No, SERIOUSLY, what do you mean?  I always thought...

Uh...

Never mind.

MOUSES!

So what does the word "doppelganger"mean then, Ms Know-it-all Smarty-pants Peepers?  Huh?  HUH?  Betcha don't know.  Betcha don't have a clue.  Betcha...

Oh.

Really?

REALLY?

MOUSES!

So let me get this straight, while you were out walkin' the other night, you happened to come across a kitty that looks exactly like me.

Well that must have been one VERY GOOD LOOKIN' kitty, for sure.  I mean, if he looked exactly like me...

Just how good lookin' was he, Peepers?  Was he REALLY as good lookin' as me?  Was he...

Was he BETTER lookin' than me?

Nah, that would be an impossibility, for sure.

He wasn't better lookin' than me, was he Peepers?  Tell me the truth.  I..  I...  I can handle it.  I can..

NO, DON'T tell me.  Don't give me an answer.  Don't...

Unless, of course, you're gonna tell me I'M the better lookin' kitty.  You can tell me that.  I can handle hearin' that.

MOUSES!

I see...  So he's not nearly as good lookin' as me.

Thought so.

MOUSES!

He doesn't have a locket, you say?  He doesn't have that cute little patch of cream fur I wear 'bout my neck?

And no adorable freckles on the nose, either, huh?

OH...  Well then OF COURSE he's not as good-lookin' as me.

But he does look like me in every other way.

Or so you say.

Hmmm...

You know what, Peepers?  You and I have been cooped up in this here house for a whole twenty-one weeks, now.  For a whole one hundred and fourteen million, three hundred and seven thousand, two hundred seconds in cat time.  AND DO YOU KNOW WHAT?

In all that time, we never knew my doppelganger was living 'round here.

As opposed to livin' in the litter box, but I guess that's not what bein' a doppelganger is really about.

You think this doppelganger business could be some kinda wacky, alternative universe crossover, pandemic-inspired super weird kinda thing?  After all, it is 2020, Peepers.  A kitty never knows what to expect next.

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.

the orange fur

Hey Andy!  What's with the big pile of orange fur on the dinin' room floor?  You know anythin' about that?

I don't know why it's there, Andy.  That's why I'm askin' you.  It looks like you gave birth to a freaky long-haired marmie kitten or somethin'.

Hmmm...  You DIDN'T DO that, did you Andy?  Give birth to a kitten?  I mean, I have enough troubles dealin' with two long-haired marmie freak brothers as it is.  Last thing I need, is a long-haired marmie freak nephew, too.  MOUSES!

Yeah, yeah...  I know you're a boy.  And yeah, yeah...  I know boys don't have kittens.  BUT I ALSO KNOW you're a long-haired marmie FREAK, so...  So who knows if you can have kittens or not.  MOUSES!

Oh yeah, you've already been neutered.  Whew.

So anyway...  What IS with the big pile of orange fur on the dinin' room floor?  You sure you didn't have anythin' to do with that?

You didn't, huh?

Hmmm...

Hey Rushy!  What's with the big pile of orange fur on the dinin' room floor?  You know anythin' about that?

She is?

Really?

And you're  her allowin' her to do that?

MOUSES!

What's wrong with lettin' the peep give you a lion cut, you ask?

ARE YOU MAD?

I'll tell you what's wrong with that.

First of all, the peep knows NOTHIN' about givin' cats haircuts.  Mouses man, she doesn't even cut her own hair!  And you're allowin' her to cut YOURS?

And second of all...

Wait a minute.  Just wait a mousie mousin' mouses minute.  Rushy, there's a BIG PILE of orange fur on the dinin' room floor, and you SAY that the peep has been cuttin' your fur.  But...  Turn around, Rushy.  Do a little spin.  Just as I thought.  Rushy, where did all that fur come from?  You don't appear to be missin' any at all.

Seriously?

You mean to say that ALL THAT FUR came from that wee little spot there on your side?

Really?

REALLY?

Mouses Rushy, you really are a freak.

Huh, I appear to be at a loss for words.  Who would have thought it possible.

MOUSES!

Okay, I have some words now.  Rushy, when Andy got his lion cut a couple years ago, he had to have it professionally done.  As in bein' done by a professional.  You know, like someone who knows what they're doin'.  But instead of that, you're allowin' the peep to do yours?

Peep cheap out on you or somethin'?  That why she's doin' it herself?  She's too cheap to pay someone to do it properly?

'Cause let me tell you somethin', Andy.  Judgin' by the speed at which she's goin', she's gonna be givin' you that lion cut for several weeks to come.  I mean, by the time she's finished, it'll be time to start all over again.

MOUSES!

And how come you're gettin' a lion cut, anyway?  Did you ASK her to shave off your fur?

Oh yeah.  I forgot.  You wouldn't let the peep comb out the mats when they were small, and now they're out of control.

Well Rushton, that's what happens when you're a freak.

MOUSES!

Yeah, yeah...   Peep #1 told me to stop callin' you and Andy freaks.  But Peep #1 has told me a lot of things, Rushy.  What can I say?  I don't pay any attention to her when she talks nonsense like that.  MOUSES!

Plus...

Well Rushy, let me ask you this.  You're allowin' Peep #1 to give you a haircut, right?  You're ALLOWIN' her to do that.  ALLOWING.  As in... As in lettin' her do it?

Yeah, well in my books, that makes you a freak.

MOUSES!

So anyway...  What's it like, Rushy?  What's it like havin' the peep give you the feline equivalent of a human kid bowl cut?

It is?

Really?

You DO?

REALLY?

You LIKE the peep groomin' you with the electric groomer?

IT FEELS GOOD?

Well gosh darn it, now I wanna let the peep give ME a haircut, too.

MOUSES!

gonna remain a mystery, for sure

Oh my mouses, Peepers, what do you think you're doing?  What's with the tweezers and stuff?  You torturing my computer or something?  You know, it's my computer.  You should have asked, first.

And for future reference, asking is always the polite thing to do.  That's why I always ask...

Hmmm...  Never mind. MOUSES!

What is that, Peepers? Is that a hair?  One of your hairs get lodged in the keyboard of my computer?  You should be more careful with that hair of yours, you know.  Especially when you're around my computer.

Not one of yours, huh?  Hmmm...  You could be right about that, Peepers.  Kinda short for your hair. Kind of orangey coloured, too....

MOUSES!

Now I know what you're thinking, Peepers, and what you're thinking is wrong.  That hair is not mine. I know it's short like mine and I know its ginger coloured but still...  Nope.  No way.  Not one of my hairs and that is for sure.

What's that?  You say it's not alone?  I should look where?

MOUSES!

No way, no how, is all that hair mine.  I mean, think about it.  If all of those hairs were my hairs, I'd be bald by now but look at me.  I don't have a single bald spot.  Not one.  Well except for my nose but I never did have any hairs on my nose.  And my fur does run a little thin by my ears but it always did so that's not unusual at all.  Nope, those hairs are most definitely not mine.

And you say you found all those hairs inside the computer, huh?  All of 'em?  All in there? Wherever were they hiding?

Oh, I see.  They were tucked in between and underneath the keys, huh?  That's why you needed the tweezers?  And did I hear the 'cuum goin' on in here, too?  You were torturing the computer with the vacuum?  Seriously, Peepers, that's just mean.

You know, Peepers, I'm not the only marmalade cat in this here house. Anderson and Rushton are marmies, too.  Maybe those there hairs are theirs.  Those there hairs are... HAHAHA!  Try sayin' that one, three times quickly.  Those there hairs are theirs, those there hairs are theirs, those there hairs are theirs...  Did it! But I digress.

Anyway, in case you hadn't noticed, those two marmie brothers of mine have a lot of hair.  They could probably lose a whole small animal's worth of hair and you'd never even notice.  Maybe even two small animal's worth of hair...

You say Anderson and Rushton weren't using the computer, huh?  How do you know?  Let's face it, Peepers, you don't know half the stuff that goes on in this here office.  Why, just the other day...

Ummm...  Never mind.

Anyway, the fact is, that there hair isn't mine.

And you're sure it's not yours?  I know, I know...  Little short to be yours.  Little too orange to be yours.  Or so you say.  I know it says golden brown on the box but seriously, there might have been a little marmalade colouring...

OR MAYBE IT'S ACTUAL MARMALADE!

Yeah, you're probably right about that.  Marmalade does tend to be sticky and not very hair-like in appearance at all.  Hmmm....

Peepers, do you think a burglar with short, orange hair might have broken in here and started messing about with my computer, trying to figure out where I keep the money I'm saving up for nip futures and stuff?  Now that could happen, for sure.  I can totally see something like that happening.  I mean, you hear 'bout stuff like that happening all the time.  Don't you ever watch the news, Peepers?  If you did, you'd know how that could have happened.  I wouldn't even have to suggest it.

You don't think so, huh?

Well...

Well I guess it's gonna remain a mystery then.  Yup, remain a mystery forever and for always. Guess we'll never know whose hairs those are.  Nope, never ever.  I mean, what are you gonna do, perform DNA tests or somethin'?

DNA tests, huh?  Oh-oh.

Oops!  Sorry 'bout that.  How careless of me.  Now just let me gather up all those short, orange hairs that look very much like what an orange-haired burglar might have and return 'em to the desk and...

OOPS!  So sorry Peepers.  I was aiming for the desk.  Really and truly, I was.  It was only by accident that I dropped 'em right there in front of the vacuum cleaner.

OOPS!  So that's the button you press to turn the 'cuum on, huh?  Who knew? Did you know that, Peepers?  I know I certainly didn't.

Well I don't know what to tell you, Peepers.  You'll just have to take my word for it that those hairs you found clogging up the computer weren't mine. Not that there was ever any question. Never any question, at all.  I'm still thinking it was an orange-haired burglar who broke in, in the middle of the night and to be perfectly honest, I really don't think you're gonna be able to prove otherwise.  MOUSES!

not the angel you think

He's not, you know.  Nope.  No sirree.  My brother Rushton is definitely not the angel everyone thinks he is and that, my friends, is for sure.  MOUSES!

My peeps think Rushton is the sweetest, kindest and most lovable cat there ever was on the face of this Earth.  Why, they think he can do no wrong.  In fact, I bet they even think the cat can walk on water and stuff.  Yeah, I bet my peeps think Rushton goes around trotting on water like it's a solid surface or something.  I really bet they do.

Well let me tell you some cold, hard facts. Do you know what happens when my brother Rushton walks on water?  You don't?  Well I do. I can tell you exactly what happens when Rushy does that because I've seen it with my own two eyes.  When Rushy walks on water, Rushy gets all wet and stuff because the cat doesn't walk on water at all!  Not at all, I say.  NOT AT ALL!  I've seen Rushton walking right through a puddle and when he comes out on the other side, he has wet paws up to his ankles just the rest of us would have if we were silly enough to walk through the puddle and not around it.  MOUSES!

Of course, if the water happened to be frozen into a thick layer of ice...

Well then, sure.  Then he could walk on the frozen water but the fact is, so could I.  Even the peeps could walk on that!

Well actually, if the peeps were to try, instead of walking on the frozen water they'd be more likely to slip and slide and fall on their tails - I mean, bums - but you get the picture, I am sure.  And boy-oh-boy, watching peeps slip and slide on ice and fall down on their bums is a pretty funny picture to see.

On the other paw, do you know what would be even funnier?  The peeps falling down on their tails would be even funnier because that, my friends, would mean that the peeps had tails and let's face it, peeps just can't pull off the tail look at all.  MOUSES!

But back to the topic at paw.  My brother Rushton is NOT the angel everyone says he is.  Nope, not even close.  Not even far!  Rushy is no angel and that is for sure.  MOUSES!

It's pretty common knowledge around these here parts that my marmalade brothers and I don't always get along.  Spats at my house almost always involve at least two of us and usually, if not always, those two are Rushton and myself.   But what might not be so commonly known is that those marmalade spats are almost always initiated by Rushton, himself.

It's true!  I give you my word.

But whenever there's growling being done, the peeps almost always blame me and yet, I am never the instigator.  Never!  It's always Rushton.  ALWAYS.  MOUSES!

First there are the growls and then the peeps arrive on the scene and the next thing I know is one peep is asking Rushy if he's okay while the other one is blaming me for starting the kerfuffle.  "Oh Rushy," I hear.  "Rushton are you okay?  Is your brother beating you up again?"

For crying out loud.  Never once have I beaten my brother Rushton up.  NEVER ONCE.  I couldn't beat him up even if I tried.  The cat has fur so long and so think, it behaves like the shields on the Starship Enterprise!

Okay, so once I did try but that was a long time ago and there's no need to be bringing it up here. MOUSES!

And it's not just me who feels this way.  I've seen my sister Constance giving Rushy a wide berth as she passes him in the family room.  Oh yeah, when she passes Rushy, she makes sure she is well out of his paws' reach.  But Constance never does that with me.  No, my friends, she does not.  Connie does not fear passing me as she does Rushton.

What's that, Peepers?  What?  FINE.

Okay, there was this one time, not all that long ago, when Constance was sleeping on the big chair in the family room and I hopped up on the back of said chair and reached down with my front paws so that I was kind of holding myself in place with one front paw while I used the other one to reach out and touch Connie, making her all scared and stuff so that she jumped off the chair and ran out of the room but seriously, that wasn't my fault because...

What, Peepers?  Again with the interruptions?  MOUSES!

I have been informed that Connie did not run out of the room but rather hobble which is kind of proving my point.  Constance wasn't scared enough of me to run.  She only hobbled.

Peepers, would you stop bothering me?  I'm trying to write a blog post here.  FINE.

So apparently, Connie didn't hobble because she wasn't all that scared.  Apparently, she hobbled because she was still recovering from that broken leg of hers and hobbling was the best she could do.  MOUSES!

But seriously, it wasn't my fault.  First of all, I was just doing as that ad used to say.  Reaching out and touching someone, you know?  Secondly, when I was doing it - reaching out and touching Connie, I mean - I saw the peeps both watching me and do you know what they were doing?  That's right, they were smiling and whispering and saying, "Oh, look how cute."  THEY WERE THINKING I WAS ADORABLE and do you know something else?  I WAS!  Yup, they were thinking I was adorable and encouraging me to reach out to my sister Connie with a paw, for sure.

Oh Peepers, you're being awfully quiet over there.  What, no interruptions now?  Yeah, typical. Typical peep, for sure.

Thing is, Constance overreacted and it was her overreaction that caused her to hobble at a trot out of the room.  MOUSES!

Now where was I...

Oh yeah, my brother Rushton is not the angel everyone thinks he is.  He's an instigator and a provoker, provoking me to growl at him but the ONLY reason I ever growl is because of his provocations.  And then the peeps arrive and he lays it on so thick the peeps think butter wouldn't melt in his mouth which, by the way, it wouldn't because although Rushy loves the butter he never gets it on account of his (er-hmmm...)  "issues"  with the lactose so if he were to get his paws on some butter he'd swallow it so quickly it would never get a chance to melt although, I suppose, once it got to his tummy it probably would but that wouldn't be in his mouth so... so...  uh...

I appear to have lost my train of thought again.

Bottom line is, Rushy is no angel and that, my friends, is for sure.  MOUSES!

I'm a dude

I'm a dude.  Oh yeah, totally. Everyone says so, so it must be true. MOUSES!

It's kind of funny, in a way.  Not funny as in ha-ha and not funny as in the funny farm either.  Or maybe it is...  No, what it is, is funny in an odd sort of way but no one - and I repeat, NO ONE - is being shipped off to any kind of farm.

Well at least I'm not.  Can't speak for my fur-sibs, of course.

Or for that matter, the peeps.

Yeah, Peep #1 has had a one-way, first-class, all expenses pre-paid ticket for the funny farm for quite some time now.  I saw it tucked away in one of her dresser drawers.

Right next to her drawers.  Hehehehee....

But how does one farm humour, anyway? I mean, if a potato farm grows potatoes, should a funny farm not grow funny?  Or maybe stuff just grows funnily, with the emphasis on the ly.

Anyway, what I'm about to tell you is funny in an odd sort of way.  It's not funny that I am a dude but rather, that everyone seems to know that I am.

I guess it's true what they say.  A rose by any other name would still be a rose.  Well a dude by any other name would still be a dude even if his other name happens to be Seville.  Let me explain.

Way back when, when I first came to live with the peeps, Peep #1 started calling me, every now and then, her dude.  She would call me her Big Orange Dude or something like that.  I never really thought much about it.  After all, I am orange and being a dude seemed like an okay thing to be.

Then one day, when I was at the doctor's office, one of the nurses looked at me and called me - you guessed it - a dude!  I believe the adjective handsome was used, as well.

Now even though this was the second person to call me a dude, I still didn't think all that much about it as I was already used to Peep #1 calling me her Big Orange Dude but then the peep pointed out that even though she called me that, she had never called me that in front of the nurse.  Or any of the other nurses.  Or my doctor, either.  This nurse had just called me a dude because, I assume, I looked like a dude.

Of course, the nurse did not call me her dude which only stands to reason as I wasn't hers.  Not that I'm the peep's, either.  It's more like the peep belongs to me but that is another topic for another post, best left for another day.  MOUSES!

So then there were two.  Not two dudes.  There's only one Seville.  No, there were two people saying that I looked like a dude.  But what's two out of a few billion?

But then I took over Nerissa's blog and social media accounts and that's when things started getting funny.  Again, funny as in odd in only a very slightly humorous way but on no accounts was anyone going to take up farming in the land of the funny. Ranching, however, was a totally different matter.

Although if one could farm humour it would be a very wonderful thing.  Pretty funny, too.  MOUSES!

But as I was saying, I took over Nissy's accounts on the Internet and that's when I noticed that more and more people were calling me a dude.  Bloggers and tweeters and Facebook peeps and anipals.  In fact, at least three cats have called me a dude in the last week!  At least three!  And who knows how many others have thought it without actually typing the word.

So I thought to myself, perhaps I should check out the definition of this word, dude.  You know, just to be sure it's okay.

Luckily for me, Nissy had all those dictionaries on paw so checking out the definition of dude was easy as easy can be.

And it turns out that being called a dude is A-okay, for sure.  Well, of course, I did know that all along.  I had already deduced it.  You see, I'm a dude and I'm okay so being a dude must be okay, too.  MOUSES!

A dude refers to a person or in my case, cat, who concerns himself with clothes, grooming and manners.  At least, that was one definition.  There were several, you see.

Well I'm not too keen on the whole clothing thing but I am very much into grooming.  I groom myself daily.  And as for the manners?  I am very polite.

What's that Peepers?  Oh, that.  Yeah, well I only peed on you once.  Perhaps it wasn't the most mannerly thing to do but constantly bringing up the transgression isn't, either.  MOUSES!

But as I was saying, I am very into grooming.  I groom myself daily.  Sometimes semi-daily.  Semi-daily?  Is that twice a day or once every two days?  MOUSES!

Sometimes...

Wait a minute!  STOP THE PRESSES!  I am into clothes.  I don't wear store bought ones but the appearance of my orange fur is extremely important to me.  I always keep it sparkly clean.  And I might consider wearing additional clothes if I had access to ones that suited me.

If the peep would be so kind as to make me a little velvet forest green vest, I might consider wearing it.  Perhaps a little vest with a pocket.  And in that pocket I could keep a watch.  A pocket watch, no less.  A wrist watch would be out of the question as it might catch and pull at my fur, you see.  Plus, looking at my paws, I don't actually have any wrists.  MOUSES!

But a little gold pocket watch tucked into the pocket of a velvet green vest with some gold brocade and buttons would do quite nicely.  And, of course, I would need a cane.  No, a walking stick. Sounds so much better, don't you think?  And a hat!  A hat with a feather, perhaps.

Some might say that a dude should wear a cowboy hat and, I suppose, that really might be fitting but in all honesty, I think a hat with a feather really would look better with that velvet vest.  Velvet with a satin lining would be nice.  And since I am a dude, I'm supposed to be concerned with my appearance so really, if anyone would know it would be me.

Yes, I need a vest, a walking stick and a feathered hat.  And a pocket watch!  Dressed up like that, I would be the dappiest...  Nah, that doesn't sound right.  It actually doesn't sound very good. Dressed up like that, I'd be the MOST DAPPER of dudes in all of the land.

And speaking of land, I might also need a ranch.  While checking out the definition of dude, I came across a thing called a Dude Ranch.  Didn't really look into it all that well but it sounds pretty good.

Is dude ranching like farming funnies? Oh my gosh, do they grow dudes? MOUSES!

I should enquire further before booking a ticket, I think.

And in the meantime, I have some work to do.  Oh Peepers...  I need some help over here.  Which of these fabrics should I order on-line for you to make me a vest and should I order you up a pattern, too, or do you already have one of those?  MOUSES!

BREAKIN' NEWS...

BREAKIN' NEWS...  It's snowin'.

Okay, so that's not breakin' news.  In fact, it's old news.  Very old news. Not even news at all.

Old news...  Bit of an oxymoron, for sure.

Yeah, it's snowin' again. I'm gettin' pretty sick and tired of the white stuff and let me tell you, I'm not the only one.  The peeps are tired of it, too, and so is the rest of my fur-fam. We're all anxious for spring but lookin' outside, spring is nowhere to be found.

And speakin' of lookin' outside, I used to be able to look out the bay window in my office and gaze down the driveway, all the way down to the street.  It was a great vantage point.  I could see everyone walkin' by.  That's how I was able to keep tabs on all the doggies in the neighbourhood. It's also how I spotted that man in the hat draggin' that big ol' pine branch down the street and then dumpin' it in my garden when he thought no one was lookin', way back when.  Remember that?

Well those days are no more, my friends.  Now when I look out my office window, all I see is white stuff.  There's a giant snowbank blockin' my view!  It's all Peep #1's fault.  She piled the snow there when shovellin' the path to the front door.  She says it's over five feet high although I haven't actually measured it with an inch-tape or anthin'.  But lookin' out at the mound of snow, I'm thinkin' I can take her at her word.

And speakin' of inch-tapes, isn't it kind of weird that we still call 'em that even though Canada is all metric and everythin'?  MOUSES!

And speakin' of mice, since the white stuff started fallin', there has not been a mouse to find except for those livin' in Mouseland and I only see them in my dreams.  Although come to think of it, my fur-fam and I had pretty much moused the place out even prior to the fallin' of the snow.

You know, sometimes the snow doesn't actually fall.  Today it is but there were a few days there when the snow was flyin' horizontally to the ground.  The entire province had a blizzard warnin' one weekend.  MOUSES!

And speakin' of blizzards, have you ever seen those ads on television for the desserts named after blizzards? You've really gotta wonder why someone would name food after weather phenomena.  Havin' white stuff peltin' your nose isn't much fun, at all.

And speakin' of noses, my marmie brothers have been at it again.  Just two of 'em, really.  Seville has taken to spendin' a lot of time upstairs and appears to be stayin' out of the fray.

But just this mornin', Rushton and Anderson were nose-to-nose.  Rushy had gone outside for a few minutes and when he wanted back in, Andy jumped right up on the windowsill, blockin' his entry.  Of course, the first peep was there in a flash and stepped in between 'em.  She scooped Anderson up and put him in the family room so that Rushton could get inside and out of the snow.  Those two marmies just don't wanna get along.  Don't know what the peeps are gonna do 'bout that.

And speakin' of Rushton, he started a new exercise program, the other week.  'Bout time, too. Marmies grow big, you see.  Especially marmies who are part Coon.

Anywho...  Rushton has taken to lyin' on his back a lot.  When someone passes him, peep or cat, he'll lift up his head to see who it is.  I'm pretty sure he's tryin' to do sit-ups although he hasn't quite mastered the sittin' part of those sit-ups yet.  More of a head-up, really.  Yeah, his neck seems to be gettin' a good workout, for sure.  MOUSES!

Peep #1 should take him for walks or somethin' but that will have to wait 'til all the white stuff disappears.  Gonna be a while, I should think.

Actually, we cats all like goin' for walks with the peep.  In the better weather months, we'll walk around the house with Peep #1 and when I say around, I quite literally mean around.  We go outside with her and follow her around and around and around the house, in circles.  I'm pretty sure anyone watchin' thinks it's weird but we just ignore that.  Walkin' around the house is just as good as walkin' around the block, to be sure.

But our little walkabouts will have to wait until spring. Currently, walkin' around the house would be an impossibility on account of all that moused-up white stuff stuff, you see.

Some cats will walk on a harness but my fur-fam and I aren't into that.  Peep #1 once tried puttin' me on a harness to go for a walk.  Basically, she ended up walkin' about with me in her arms.  Well she had a walk, at least.  I simply refused.

Peep #1 says she wishes that the marmie boys would walk on harnesses so that she could take 'em all in for their doctor's appointments, together.  She wants to walk into the clinic with 'em on leads.  She says it would be quite the sight and I have to agree. It really would be quite the sight to see Peep #1 tryin' to carry forty-five plus pounds of squirmin' marmie cats in her arms 'cause that's exactly how it would be.  None of us are into walkin' when wearin' a harness.  We'll put 'em on but after that, you're gonna have to carry us, for sure.

And speakin' of carryin', you should have seen Peep #1 carryin' in the groceries the other day.  She has gotten a bit lax 'bout the shovelling and the paths are not quite up to snuff, you see.  Truth be told, it was just the one day that she didn't do a good job shovellin' the path to the back door but that one day was all it took.  The ground is pretty uneven now and when the peeps walk on it, there's some slippin' and slidin' goin' on.  It's okay for us cats but the peeps seem to havin' some difficulties in keepin' their balance.  MOUSES!

And speakin' of balance...  Awww...  MOUSES!  I've got nothin' for that.

No wait a minute.  Maybe I do.

I'm tryin' to create a little more balance in my life.  Tryin' to not work day in and day out, leavin' no time for play.  I'm thinkin' that I should let Peep #1 have a little more computer time and I, Nerissa the Cat, will use that time to nap and enjoy the nip.  I think I can let the peep have at least one hour at the computer a day.

I allowed the peep to use the computer yesterday and she managed to write a whole page of her book.  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin', one page isn't very much.  Well truth be told, you'd be right about that.  But for her, that's actually pretty good 'cause she's not as prolific writer as I.  MOUSES!

You know, I'm lookin' out that big ol' bay window right now and seein' that the white stuff is still fallin'.  In fact, it's fallin' quite heavily, for sure.  Will it ever end?  And exactly when might that be?  The piles of snow are gettin' bigger and bigger and we're seriously runnin' out of places to put it.

When winter does eventually end - and believe you me, I'm crossin' my paws, hopin' it does - then I'll have some breakin' news, for sure.  The fact that it is snowin' might not be newsworthy but when the snow finally stops, I'll have the story of the year.  Can't wait for that to happen although, I guess I'll have to.  Have to wait, that is.  Not much I can do to speed up the process, if you know what I mean.

On the other paw, I heard that in Boston they had machines that can melt snow.  That might speed up things a bit.  Hmmm...   Can't remember the last time Peep #1 used her blow dryer.  It's just sittin' there, doin' nothin'.  I wonder if it would melt snow.  I think it just might.

Now where do the peeps keep the outdoor extension cords?  Inquirin' minds wanna know. MOUSES!

invasion of the marmies

As some of you may have heard, I have a new brother.  His name is Anderson and he's a marmalade cat.  My third marmie brother.  Yup, the marmies are invadin', for sure.  MOUSES!

Anderson showed up around here, sometime last winter.  Not sure exactly when but it was super cold out and there was still snow on the ground.  Not a good time for a kitty to be livin' out on the streets, alone.  Not a good time, at all.

When the peeps first saw Andy, they thought he was Rushton.  At a glance, they do look a lot alike. They're both marmies with some cream showin' through and they both have long fur.  They both have floofy tails, too.  But Rushy is missin' part of an ear on account of his havin' been TNR'd at some point.  Andy doesn't have a tipped ear.  His ears are totally intact and they're kind of horizontal whereas Rushton's are more vertically directed.  Plus, their faces and facial expressions are totally different.  Obviously, two very different cats.

Then there is their size.  They're both big boys.  You should see the size of Anderson's paws! They're like, three times the size of mine.  I actually have a sneakin' suspicion that Andy might be part cougar or somethin'.  But when Anderson first appeared, he was super thin. Rushton, on the other paw, is the size of a small half-tonne truck.  How the peeps ever thought they were one and the same is beyond me.  MOUSES!

I, of course, immediately recognised that Andy was a new boy in the hood.  I also happened to notice that he was of the marmie variety.  I couldn't believe my eyes.  "Not another marmie!" I cried. Unfortunately, no one was listenin'.

There was one other difference, too.  A big one.  Anderson was missin' most of his fur on one side. Yup, you could see his skin and everything.

Andy has long hair and long hair, when not properly groomed, mats.  Anderson had let his fur go a bit but that certainly wasn't his fault.  Livin' out on the streets is pretty tough for a cat and all your time is spent lookin' for safe places to sleep at night, shelterin' from the cold and scrounging for food. There isn't time for daily groomin'.  So Andy's fur started to mat and all those mats grew and grew until they were one humongous, gigantic mat.  Then, with the longer days and more daylight, his fur started to shed.  But it was all caught up in that monstrous mat and eventually, his fur came off in one big ol' chunk.  Kind of like when a sheep is shorn, I suppose.

This lack of fur was very dangerous for Anderson.  He no longer had a thick fur coat on one side to protect himself from other animals scratchin' him or from the cold.  Did I mention it was cold?  It was. Like I said earlier, there was still snow on the ground!

Anderson has told me that the worst nights were the starry ones.  When the stars are out, the skies are clear.  And a clear winter sky in Canada is a cold one, for sure.  Sometimes, bitterly cold.  Hard to find shelter from that kind of cold 'cause it's everywhere.  You can shelter from the wind but not the bitter cold.  And when you're missin' all that fur....  It must have been terrible.  Anderson says it was so cold, it hurt.  That poor, poor boy.

Well the peeps immediately started attemptin' to befriend our boy, Andy.  They started puttin' food out at the front door, hopin' he would find it.  If they caught a glimpse of him, they would immediately drop everything and run out with some food.  Usually, they put it out at the front door but if they saw him at the back, they'd put it there, too.

Anderson was really scared.  He wouldn't let the peeps anywhere near him.  Truth be told, he didn't even like 'em lookin' at him!  He would hide the moment he saw my peeps but, eventually, he learned he could come back for the food and that's exactly what he started doin'.  The peeps watched from inside 'cause he wouldn't go near the food until they were behind closed doors.

The peeps were thinkin' that Anderson was a feral lad on account of his fear.  He was terrified of humans as feral cats are.  They figured they had their work cut out for them, for sure.

Eventually, Anderson got to the point where he would allow the peeps to see him.  He wasn't runnin' quite so far when they appeared with food.  Sometimes, he didn't run at all.  Sometimes, he stood his ground, waitin' for them to go back inside so that he could eat.

By early September, Andy would actually come up to Peep #1 when she fed him.  He even started meowin' at her.  Just a little meow.  He has a pretty little voice for such a big boy.  But he would meow and then the meow would turn into a fizz.  Ol' Peepers had to bite her tongue to stop herself from laughin'.  The meow fizzes were pretty funny, I suppose, but really, Andy was just lettin' her know he was still in charge and she wasn't to get any ideas.

Then one day, in late September, Anderson showed up at the back door.  Peep #1 opened the door and spoke softly to him.  She kept talkin' to him and Andy must have been listening 'cause paw by paw, he padded right into the house.  MOUSES!

Well Ol' Peepers can be pretty fast on her paws when she wants and that ol' back door was closed behind Andy, lickety split.  Anderson was not amused.

So Anderson moved in, upstairs.  Yup, he lived upstairs for over a week.  Peeps had to install a new litter box and everything.  They were even servin' him breakfast in bed!  Well, in a bedroom and not actually on a bed although that is where he was sleepin'.  Lunches and dinners were served up there, too.  Anderson, you see, was refusin' to come downstairs.

But was he ever gettin' friendly with the peeps.  They could touch him and pet him and love him up and everything.  He did have a bit of a wayward paw, though.  Both peeps got a few scratches and Peep #1 suffered from a little nip.  I don't think Anderson was bein' mean or even tryin' to attack 'em. I think, he was tryin' to keep 'em!  He was lashin' out when they passed by or had been pettin' him and got up to leave.  He didn't want the attention to stop.

After about ten days, Andy came downstairs.  He moved right into the ol' family room and sort of took over the chesterfield.  Started takin' over the peeps, too.   You should see how lovey-dovey he is with 'em.  He even lets him rub his tummy!  Okay, so do I but that's beside the point.  I've known my peeps for eleven and a half years.  Totally different situation.

Clearly, Anderson was not a feral boy.  No way, no how would he make that kind of peep progress had he been feral.  Obviously, he had been abandoned.  Left behind when someone moved or dumped 'cause he was not longer wanted.  Don't know which.  Andy's not tellin'.  Bad memories, I suppose.

He had some pretty bad experiences when he was livin' on his own, for sure.  Peep #2 went to use the broom to sweep somethin' up in the kitchen - likely some spilt kibble - and Anderson ran.  He's terrified of the broom.  Peeps think someone must have chased him or even hit him with one when he was livin' outdoors.  Only a truly nasty person would do somethin' like that.  They had better never show their faces around here 'cause let me tell you, if they do, I'm gonna pee on 'em, for sure. Maybe even poop.  They sure would deserve it.

Anderson is becoming more and more sure of his surroundings every day.  He has learned that, if he wants, he can go outside for some fresh air and sunshine and then come right back inside.  I kind of think that when he was holed up, upstairs for those ten days, he was afraid to come down in case he was tossed out on his tail again.  I'm kind of thinkin' that he was driven into the country and dumped all those months and months ago.  Stupid, ignorant peeps have been known to do things like that. Peeps who think a kitty can survive outside on his or her own, after havin' had a home. MOUSES!

But still, every now and then when Andy wakes up, a strange look will cross his face.  He looks around in a panic.  He's wondering if he is still inside.  Still inside a house, warm and comfy and with a full tummy.  He's lookin' to see if he really does have a home with lovin' peeps or if it was all just a dream.

You see, when Anderson was livin' outside, sometimes he would dream of having a home once again like he did when he was a wee little kitten.  He would dream of having peeps who loved him, warm places to sleep and food to eat.  Dream of being inside a warm and loving home on those bitterly cold, starry nights.  The dreams were wonderful but then, in the mornin', he always awoke to find that it was all gone.  That he had nothing.  That he was still cold and hungry and all alone.

Even now, with the peeps lovin' him to bits, he wonders if it's all still a dream. Wonders if he's gonna wake up to find everything is gone.

Well that is not gonna happen 'cause Anderson is part of my family now and he's gonna have a lovin' home, forever. A loving home where he will always be safe.

And his wayward paw is no longer wayward so I think he's gettin' the idea that the peeps will always be there for him.  They trust him completely, now. They put their faces right up to his and kiss him on his forehead and tickle his tummy just like they do with the rest of us.  Yup, we're all suckers for those tummy tickles.  We all love 'em, for sure.  And do you know what?  We love Anderson, too.  Purrs.

invasion of the pumpkin people

For all of us Canadian kitties, this is Thanksgiving Weekend.  That's right, we northern kitties start celebratin' early, compared to our southern counterparts.  Oohhh...  and those in Alaska who are to the north and/or west of the rest of the kitties like me.  Hmmm..  Or should that be I?

Anywho...  this is Thanksgiving weekend, also known as prime pumpkin season, here in Nova Scotia.  Not 'cause I live with three pumpkin-coloured brothers and a sister who comes super close, although she's lighter than your traditional marmalade kitties.  Lighter in colour, by the way, and not by weight.  And I mustn't forget my three calico sisters and my tortie auntie, all of whom are also sportin' the pumpkin colours.  I'm tellin' you, the marmies are takin' over. MOUSES!

But like I was sayin', this weekend isn't pumpkin season on account of the marmies.  It's pumpkin season on account of the pumpkins.  They're everywhere!

All the local farm markets and whatnot are filled to the brim with the things.  The pumpkins, I mean, and not the marmie cats.  There are still some pumpkins in fields, too.

And then there are the gigantic monstrous ones that peeps try to grow as large as they can until they're too heavy to take anywhere without the aide of a tractor or a forklift or somethin'.  Again, I'm talkin' about pumpkins and not those marmie brothers of mine although, truth be told, if Rushton gains any more weight, the peep will be needin' a forklift to lift him, for sure.

Before anyone panics 'bout Rushton's size, Peep #1 says it's okay 'cause he's obviously got some coon in him.  Like a WHOLE, ENTIRE COON, I do believe.  He's naturally big.  He can stand on his hind legs and reach right up to put his front paws 'round Peep #1's waist.  Yeah, just like a dog. MOUSES!

But back to the pumpkins.  Farmers 'round here grow those gigantic, monstrous ones for Cinderella, I do believe.  They're gonna be turned into carriages or somethin'.

Then there are the pumpkin people.  No, they're not peeps who are the colour of pumpkins like the marmalade cats.  Rather, they're peeps who ARE pumpkins.  It's true.  Their heads are made of pumpkins.  MOUSES!

And just like the actual pumpkins, the pumpkin peeps are everywhere, too.  They're multiplying.  It's like the invasion of the pumpkin' people or somethin'.  No word yet on whether or not aliens are involved however, that is a story on which I am workin'.  Again I must say, MOUSES!

Closer to home, there are pumpkins, too.  In fact, there was some pumpkin activity goin' on at my house, yesterday.  Yup, it's true. Took place in my very own kitchen.

Like every year around this time, Peep #1 bakes a pumpkin pie or two.  Yesterday was the big day.  Yes, my friends, pumpkin pies were baked.

I knew the peep was gonna be makin' those pumpkin pies and truth be told, I was a little concerned for the health and welfare of those peeps whose heads are made of pumpkin but it turned out that I needn't have worried.  Peep #1 used pumpkin from a tin.

However, when I saw that ol' tin of pumpkin, I was reminded of my recent blog post, "they are? MOUSES!" in which I came to the realisation that my turkey cat food is actually made from turkeys which are, in fact, birds.  Yes, the deceit of the tins.  Turkeys can come in tins.  Who knew?

Pity the poor pumpkin people whose heads were used in the cannin' of that tinned pumpkin.  I'm just hopin' I didn't actually know any of them or anythin'.

Anywho...  back to the bakin'.  The peep got out her tin of pumpkin in preparation for the bakin' of those pies.  I got a good look at that ol' tin and noticed that on it, it read, pure pumpkin.  Now this came as a bit of a surprise to me.  I looked at the tin and then over at the peep and said, "Pure pumpkin?  What else would be in a tin of pumpkin?"

Apparently, it could have been squash.  Non-pumpkin, squash.  Peep says some companies do that. They try to pass off regular ol' squash as pumpkin.  I wonder if that's to save the pumpkin people. Could be.  Never heard tell of any squash people 'round here.

So the peep got out her tin of pumpkin and all the other necessary ingredients like eggs and cream and spices and...  and did I mention cream?  Mmmm...

She had to start by makin' the pie shells.  Now I won't go into a whole lot of detail 'bout the makin' of those pie shells on account of the fact that this is a blog post and not the longest novel ever written in the history of catkind but suffice it to say, she made a mess.  You ever hear of fur flyin'?  Well, think about that and then add the letters l and o so that you've turned the word fur, into flour.  Yes, my friends, there was flour...  EVERYWHERE.  Peep will be cleanin' up bits of flour from now until Christmas, I do believe.  MOUSES!

That reminds me, Peep #1 has some extra laundry to do, this week.  Yup, she was wearin' the flour like it was some sort of fashion statement or somethin'. She still is wearin' a bit of it, I do believe.  I had better remind her to wash her hair today, too.  Again I must say, MOUSES!

Once the pie shells were made, it was time to start the fillin'.  She opened that ol' can of pure pumpkin - possibly made from the heads of pumpkin people whom we have hopefully never met - and spooned it out and into a bowl.  Then she added the eggs, cream, sugar and spices.  So far, so good.

But then, my friends, the peep got out a whisk.  I panicked, for sure.  Was it one of Seville's whisks? Would it transport my peep through space and time using eggbeater-whisk time travelling-teleportation technology?  Would the peep disappear right before my very eyes?

Thankfully, the whisk was a dud.  Yes, it whisked up the pumpkin and whatnot, all right, but there was no time travellin' involved.  Close one.  Whew!

After the whiskin' was over and my heart stopped beatin' a mile a minute on account of the time travelling-teleportation scare, the peep poured the pumpkin filling into the pie shells and she baked 'em.  They took a long time to bake which was good, I think, on account of the huge mess Ol' Peepers had made in my kitchen.  She needed that bakin' time to get the place cleaned up.  My gosh my peep is a messy baker.  MOUSES!

Hmmm...  now THERE'S a title for a cookbook.  The Messy Baker.  LOVE IT!  I'll have to mention that to the peep, sometime.  She could write a series.  Could even end up on television or somethin'.

In the meantime, I'm gonna be thinkin' about all the things for which I have to be thankful.  After all, this is Thanksgiving Weekend.

Right off the top of my head, I can think of a few things.  I'm thankful that the whisk the peep used was a time-travellin' dud.  I'm thankful that there was cream leftover after Ol' Peepers made those pies 'cause I'm thinkin' I might get to enjoy a drop or two.  I'm thankful that I now have three brothers even if the latest is another marmie.  (More on that in a future post.)  And, of course, I'm very thankful for my peeps.  Thankful that I have 'em and incredibly thankful that their heads are not made of pumpkins 'cause if they were, they might have been in that ol' tin of pumpkin and been baked into those pumpkin pies.  And that, my friends, would have been a MOUSES! moment, for sure.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!  Happy Thanksgiving to all the peeps out there, pumpkin and non-pumpkin, alike.  And to all the cats, bunnies and doggies, too.  HAPPY THANKSGIVING TO ALL! To each and every one of you.

a common enemy

My two marmie brothers had to see the doctor last week.  Don't worry, it was nothin' serious.  Just annual check-ups and whatnot.

Peep #1 was torn between takin' Rushton and Seville together or takin' them separately.  Together, they're quite an impressive pair.  Both big and handsome marmalade boys.  On the other paw, they also kind of hate one another.  Would takin' them together wreak havoc at the doctor's office?  It was always a possibility but the peep decided to chance it anyway.

I've blogged about those two and their personality differences before.  Nothin' Rushton and Seville like more than gettin' up into each other's business, nose to nose and all personal like and then lettin' loose with the howls and growls and who knows what else.  Well I know what else.  Once, Peep #1 went downstairs after one of their little marmie incidents and found chunks of marmalade fur all over the place.  Seville claimed that Rushy was just sheddin' and although Rushy does shed a lot in the spring, I really don't think his fur comes out in chunks like that.  At least not when simply sheddin'.  MOUSES!

So the decision was made that my marmie brothers would go to the doctor, together.  Peep #1 got out the carriers and put fresh towels in them.  The towels were spread out nicely for comfort.  Then she went in search of marmies.

Rushton was the first to be found as he happened to be snackin' in the kitchen.  The peep picked him up and proceeded to encourage him to enter the carrier.  Nothin' doing.  No way, no how, was that brother of mine going inside.  Peep #2 had to be called in for reinforcements.  The second peep held the carrier upright and, of course, the towel laid over the bottom of the carrier fell to the back where it remained and was pretty much useless.

With the carrier still in an upright position, Peep #1 attempted a drop insertion, tail-end first, of my brother.  Well Rushy grabbed hold of the edge of that carrier and held on as tightly as a cat can hold which, believe me, is pretty darned tight.  The peep lifted one paw only for Rushy to hold on even more tightly with the other and, I'm told, he was bracing his back legs within the carrier, preparing for a vertical escape.

Peep #1 was just about to give up on the carrier business.  Not only was Rushton simply unwillin' to go into it but Ol' Peepers was beginning to question whether or not he would even fit!  Did I happen to mention that my brother Rushy is a rather big boy?  Well he is and let me tell you...  floof and big bones can only account for so much, you know?

But then, miraculously, Rushy let go of the edge of the carrier for just a second.  I think he was tryin' to get a better grip or somethin' but Peep #1 was on the ball, I tell you.  Seizing the opportunity, she stuffed my marmie brother into the carrier.  Tight squeeze but he made it...  FINALLY.

So the peep then went off in search of Seville.  She found him outside.  Sivvers, bein' a rather co-operative kind of guy, came immediately when she called him.  He was likely hoping there might be a snack in the offing.

Peep #1 encouraged him to enter the second carrier, head first, with a gentle SHOVE to his butt but Sivvers was havin' nothin' of that.  So once again, the second peep's assistance was required and the carrier was held up on its end only for its towel to fall to the back where it was utterly useless, just like Rushy's towel.

The tail-first drop insertion method proved to be much more manageable with Seville and within five minutes, he was in.  You're probably thinkin' that five minutes is a long time to take to get a cat into a carrier but believe you me, it took a lot longer than that to get Rushy in.

Watching from a safe distance, I looked over at the clock and noted that the peeps were already late for the marmies' appointments and they hadn't even left the house yet.  MOUSES although, to be honest, typical.

Peep #1 attempted to pick up the two carriers.  It wasn't easy.  I think she thought she was liftin' weights or something but eventually she managed it and they were off.

Now the rest of the story I did not witness first-paw however the peep took notes for me and I trust her note-taking abilities.  Anywho...

My brothers were ushered - or rather, carried in their carriers - into the exam room.  Seville refused to exit his carrier.  This is pretty much the norm when we visit the doctor and the peep has become quite competent at takin' apart the carrier so that the top half is simply lifted off.  Puttin' the carrier together afterwards still eludes her, however.

Once Seville had been removed from the carrier, his temperature was taken and his weight, calculated.  Sixteen pounds.  MOUSES!  Really big mouses.

Then the nurse wanted to see Rushy.  Hmmm...  That would require havin' Rushton and Seville both out of their carriers at the same time.  Clearly, the peep had not thought this through.  It was suggested that Seville could go back into his carrier while she checked on Rushy but Seville's carrier was still in pieces from the peep havin' had to take it apart and what's more, even if they put it back together again, they would have a devil of a time, gettin' him back out when the doctor arrived. Decisions...  decisions...

Finally it was decided that they would risk havin' both boys out together.  Rushy's carrier was dismantled and he was lifted out.   His temperature was found to be normal and his weight was calculated.  Seventeen point six pounds?  MOUSES, Rushton.  You eatin' the plates as well as the food these days?

When the doctor arrived, Seville and Rushton were both on the exam table, being held at opposite ends.  Somewhat unbelievably, there was no chaos.  There were no howls and no growls to be heard.  There were no nose to nose confrontations going on.  I know they were bein' held at opposite ends of the table but those exam tables aren't that big.  There couldn't have been a lot of space between the two.

The doctor examined each of my marmie brothers before giving them their vaccinations.  All remained peaceful and calm.  Seville had one little clump of fur near his tail that needed attendin' and the doctor combed that right out.  He was lucky our doctor did it 'cause Peep #1 would likely have snipped it.  Yeah, she would likely have taken the easy way out, for sure.

On the other paw, Rushton had some matted fur in the tail area that needed to be dealt with immediately.  The doctor used the shears or clippers or whatever and mounds of fur were left on the table.  By the way, a couple of days later it was somewhat damp and chilly outside and you should have heard the complaints emanating from Rushton 'bout how his bum was feelin' a draft.  MOUSES!

This peace between my brothers would NEVER have happened at home but apparently, when visitin' the doctor together, those two marmie brothers are quite capable of bein' well-behaved.  Who knew? A thought crossed Peep #1's mind but she didn't want to say it aloud however, the doctor did.  The doctor said right there and then that my brothers had untied against a common enemy...  HER. MOUSES!

Peep #1 is thinkin' that she will continue to take the marmie boys for their yearly exams together however, she's also thinkin' that she's gonna have to get bigger carriers in order to do it. Either that, or let them walk in on harnesses but I can tell you right now that neither one of those boys will be wearin' the harness that was bought for me when I was recuperating after havin' my knee bionicized.  They wouldn't fit! Nope, Ol' Peepers is gonna have to look into gettin' bigger harnesses. Maybe harnesses sized for dogs or somethin'. Anyone know what size of harness a Great Dane takes?  Maybe those would work for my marmie brothers.  Maybe...   MAYBE...  Yeah, that size might do the trick.

***  I just wanna let everyone know that even though my marmie brothers weighed in at sixteen and seventeen point six pounds, the doctor did not suggest that they go on diets.  In fact, Sivvers is already on a special diet on account of his crystals issue which has not reoccurred in well over a year and it's extremely important that the crystals are kept at bay.  Gotta pick your battles, you know?  And neither of the boys eats all that much.  At least, no more than the rest of us.  They're just big cats, we think.  Very big, indeed.