and good riddance!

What about Bob?  What about Andy?

No, better yet, what about that nosey neighbourin' cat from across the street? You know the one.  The one we call, Nosey-Neighbour-Cat, or NNC.  MOUSES!

Kitten steps, Sivvers.  Kitten steps. MOUSES!

So I was paddin' my way downstairs the other mornin', and what did I hear?  I heard, from in the kitchen, Peep #1 sayin' hello to someone other than me.

I stopped in my tracks.  Exactly to whom was she sayin' hello?  I knew for a fact that Rushton and Tess had gone outside through the upstairs bathroom window, a little while earlier, so it couldn't be either of them.  And I had spotted Tobias out on the back deck washin' a paw, moments before, so it couldn't be her, either.  Mason or Anderson?  Not likely.  Those two head out the front door, like clockwork every mornin', rain or shine, so I knew they would both be outside by now, just as I knew the sun had risen.  It couldn't be them, either.  And it certainly wasn't me.  I knew that, for sure, on account of my still bein' on the staircase and not yet in the kitchen, where the peep was talkin'.

So who?  WHO?

Peep #1 tends to use a different voice when speakin' to us cats than when speakin' to other peeps, so it wasn't likely a peep to whom she was sayin' hello.  Nope, couldn't be a peep at all.

Again I thought, who?

If the first peep wasn't greetin' one of us cats, and she wasn't greetin' a peep, was she greetin' a weasel?  Nah, the peep knew better than that.

I closed my eyes and went through the list of possibilities, checking 'em off, one by one.  A mouse? Nope.  A rat?  Nah.  A bird?  Not likely.  A rocky raccoon?  Never!  A leprechaun?  Wrong season. An imp?  An imp...  Hmmm...  No, I didn't think there were any of those about in these here parts.  A squirrel?  Now that was just crazy.  An alien...  AN ALIEN!  Now this, I had to see.

So I tore down the rest of the steps and skidded to a stop as I entered the kitchen and there, before my very eyes, eatin' from one of my dishes was...  Nosey-Neighbour-Cat.  MOUSES!

And if you can believe it, the peep was havin' a conversation with him.  MOUSES!

Of course, it was a somewhat one-sided conversation as NNC was busy chowin' down, but nevertheless...

MOUSES!

I sat there, starin' at Nosey-Neighbour-Cat.

And Nosey-Neighbour-Cat sat there, starin' at the plate of food he was eatin'.

"Don't your own peeps feed you?" I cried.

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled between bites.  "But I enjoy dining out better than eating at home."

I glanced over at the peep who was still nattering on about something stupid. Stupid as in not about me.

Of course, it really was about me, as it was about NNC, and NNC was eatin' my food from my plate in my kitchen while listening to my peep.

So I fizzed.  Then I hissed.  Then I...

Well that's about when the peep came over and scooped me up into her arms. But I could still see that ol' nosey cat who happens to be a neighbour, so once more, I fizzed.

Then the peep turned around so that I couldn't see Nosey-Neighbour-Cat anymore.  I stopped fizzin' and hissin' but there was no way - NO HOW - that I was gonna do anythin' like purr.

Well at least not for a good thirty seconds!

Okay, so then I purred.  But it was a VERY SUBDUED purr, for sure.

And I was still mad.  And I was still angry.  I was absolutely FURIOUS with the peep.  Imagine her chattin' away with the enemy like that, in my very own kitchen, while that enemy ate my food from my very own plate.  IMAGINE!

Before I knew it, I'd find her cavorting with weasels!  MOUSES!

For a brief moment, I was so consumed with anger and jealousy, I thought I might lash out with my claws.

Should I lash out at that intruder of a cat?  Nope, from the peep's arms, I couldn't reach him.  In fact, while up in Peep #1's arms, the only one I could reach was the peep.  Should I lash out at her?

I had stopped purrin'.  Like I said, it had been pretty subdued to start.

I began to growl.  My paws were itchin' to strike out at anythin' or anyone close, no matter what the cost.

But behaviour like that can be highly self-destructive, at best.  So bein' the extremely wise kitty that I am, I held back.

Then the peep walked with me in her arms, taking me out of the kitchen and into the family room. She sat down on the couch and placed me next to her, and gave me a comb.

The growlin' stopped.  After all, who doesn't like bein' combed?

Then came the purrs.  Soft at first, like before, but I couldn't help myself and soon my purrs were as loud as a lion's roar!

In fact, that Nosey-Neighbour-Cat must have mistaken my purrs for a roarin' lion 'cause the next thing I knew, Peep #1 was was sayin' goodbye to him as he hopped up onto the ledge by the kitchen window, and disappeared outside.

I jumped down from the chesterfield and raced to the window, yellin' out after him, "And good riddance!  And don't you come back!  You...  You.... YOU..."

"Oohhh...  Brekkies already, Peepers? How thoughtful.  You're servin' my fave. Cheers, peeps," and with that, I started to eat.

MOUSES!

too much of a good thing

Can you have too much of a good thing?  Oh yeah.  It's true.  You can take my word on that.  I know from personal experience.

Of course, it does all depend upon the thing. There are some things of which one can never have too much.  Take for example...  nip.

One can never have too much nip. There isn't enough nip in the world for there to be too much nip.  There isn't enough nip in the universe for there to be too much nip.  There's just never enough nip.

Oh sure...  I have a few nip-filled biff-bags here and some nip-mice there but why stop with those? What about pillows?  Comforters?  The very mattresses, themselves?  Can you imagine drifting off to sleep on a nip-filled mattress with your head resting on a nip-filled pillow and keeping you warm, a comforter filled with the nip?  Bliss.

If my peeps wanted to do somethin' really nice for me, they would make that happen.  MOUSES!

And while we're discussin' the nip, I'd really like to know why my meals aren't bein' served with nip garnishes on the side.  A few sprigs of nip would really spruce up that plate of grilled tuna, you know?  Of course you do.  And a bowl of iced nip tea would be very refreshing on a warm summer day.  And in the winter, some hot nip cider would be lovely.  Or some nip-infused warm milk to lull me to sleep on my nip-filled mattress with my head resting on my nip-filled pillow with a comforter filled with the nip, wrapped around me, keepin' me warm and toasty.

Like I said, if my peeps wanted to do somethin' really nice for me they would make that happen. Again I must say, MOUSES!

If I had my way, nip would grow everywhere.  There would be nip growin' in the lawn.  Scratch that. The very lawn itself would be comprised of nip with just a little grass, here and there, for occasional munchin'.  Nip growin' with weed-like abandon.  I only wish!  It would be beautiful.

Gosh, I sure do hope my peeps are takin' notes on this.

But back to the stuff of which one can have too much.  Take for example...  cuddles.

It's true.  One can have too many cuddles.  That Peep #1 of mine is constantly pickin' me up and cuddling me.  Mornin', noon, night...  It doesn't make any difference to her.  There is no room in the house that is safe from a cuddle.  I'll be standin' there in the kitchen waitin' for a snack and the next thing I know, she's scoopin' me up in her arms and cuddlin' me.

Sometimes I wonder if she's gonna cuddle the fur right off my back. Seriously.  After those cuddling sessions, she's covered in my fur.  It's all over her.  One day, I'm gonna emerge from a cuddlin' as bald as bald can be and Peep #1 is gonna be lookin' like a sterling silver - some say platinum - tabby cat.  MOUSES!

And it's not just the cuddles.  Oh no, she doesn't stop there.  There's all the kissing and the oohs and the ahhs and the I-love-you-sweeties that accompany those cuddles.  I know she means well and everything but seriously, it's bad for my mancat image.  I mean, she already gave me a girls' name.  How much more can my mancat image take?

And do you know what else?  SHE.  EVEN.  DOES IT.  IN PUBLIC.

That's right, my friends.  Peep #1 will pick me up, outside.  In the driveway.  Or the front lawn - which, by the way, is not filled with catnip growin' with weed-like abandon.  She'll pick me up where all the world can see.  And she'll smother me with kisses.  And cuddles, too!  All the while oohing and ahhing...  It's so embarrassing.  It's humiliating, for sure.  Again I must say, MOUSES!

But as embarrassing and humiliating as those public cuddle sessions are, there are other things out there...  out there in this vast universe...  and in other, parallel universes, as well.   Things of which one can - even more easily - have too much.  Take for example...  neighbour cats.  Nosey neighbour cats, in particular.

For two weeks, my Peep #1 looked after that nosey, nosey neighbour cat, who happens to be my neighbour.  For two whole weeks, she was trottin' over to his house every mornin' and lettin' him out and inviting him over to mine.  For two whole weeks, she would take him back to his house every evening and make him his dinner - which, by the way, may very well have had a nip garnish on the side.

And do you know what else?  SHE EVEN GAVE HIM CUDDLES.

It's true.  Now, I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin' that I should be grateful to that nosey neighbour cat for puttin' up with some of the cuddles of which I was clearly havin' too many.  You're thinkin' that nosey neighbour cat was actually doin' me a favour.  You're thinkin' that I should probably thank nosey neighbour cat for puttin' up with the cuddles and kisses, easing my burden of bein' overly cuddled and kissed.  MOUSES!

Well...  Well I'm not thinkin' that.  Not thinkin' that at all.  Those cuddles and kisses were clearly meant for me.  They were clearly meant to be mine.  Those cuddles and kisses were from MY peep and not his.  I'm thinkin' that nosey neighbour cat is a thief and was stealin' my cuddles.  My kisses, as well. Again I must say, MOUSES!

Good news is, nosey neighbour cat's peeps are back from their vacation. Bad news is, I'm once more bein' smothered in cuddles.