don't look at me

Don't look at me, Peepers.  I always use the litter box.

And when I say always, I mean, always.  Like in... All the time.  Like... ALWAYS.

Okay, so there was that one time.

But I'm pretty sure we both agreed when it happened, it was total accident, for sure.

Boy oh boy, I'm NEVER gonna live that one down.  MOUSES!

But speakin' of litter boxes, I've never seen you use a box, Peepers.  You sure it wasn't you who did the dirty deed?  Are you sure it wasn't you who went and pooped in amongst the primroses? MOUSES!

Yeah, yeah...  So you say.

But then, you're always sayin' stuff, Peepers.

Truth be told, I never listen to half the things you say.  I never listen to the other half, either. MOUSES!

But back to the poopin' amongst the primroses.  Seriously, it wasn't me.  I, Seville the Cat, did not dig up those baby primrose plants.  I wouldn't dream of doin' such a thing for I, Seville the Cat, am a gentleman cat, for sure.  MOUSES!

You know...  it might have been the neighbours.

WHY NOT?

Oh sure, you think nothin' of blamin' me, your friendly handsome bloggin' marmalade cat with whom you share a computer, but you won't even consider blamin' the neighbours?  MOUSES!

Well let me ask you this, Peepers.  Have you ever seen the neighbours usin' a litter box?  Huh? HUH?  Well have you?  'Cause maybe there's a reason for that.  Maybe it's 'cause they're sneakin' into the garden, late at night, to do their business in amongst the baby primroses and....

Okay, maybe that is a bit far fetched.

Or not.

MOUSES!

Well...  If it's not the neighbours, that brings us back to YOU.

Hey, you were the one not willin' to blame the peeps livin' next door. MOUSES!

I'm thinkin'...  I'm thinkin' it was you, Peepers, who dug up those baby primrose plants, and you're now makin' a big ol' fuss of accusin' me - a cat who has ONLY EVER ONCE not used the litter box...

Okay, so there was that one other time, too.  But that was an accident as well.  MOUSES!

Anyway, like I said, I'm thinkin' it was you, Peepers, who dug up those primrose plants while doin' your business out in the garden.  And NOW you're pointin' a paw at me, in a feeble-minded attempt to take the blame away from you.

Typical peep behaviour, for sure.  MOUSES!

And when one takes into account the fact that you've never been seen usin' the litter boxes...

FYI, I'd just like to take a moment here to point out that we cats would like for you to continue NOT usin' our litter boxes, but nevertheless...

When one takes into account the fact that you've never been seen usin' the litter boxes, it's PERFECTLY REASONABLE to assume that the entity who dug up the primroses while doin' their business was you.  MOUSES!

You're still denyin' it, huh?  MOUSES!

All I know is, it wasn't me.

And you claim it wasn't you.

And if it wasn't the neighbours....

Could it have been...  Aliens?

Nah, it's a well-known fact that aliens carry litter boxes in their spaceships. Believe-you-me, no one wants to be searchin' for a clean rest stop half-way to Pluto.  Know what I mean?

So if it wasn't aliens...

Hmmm...

Sorry Peepers, but it looks like we're back to blamin' you.

And whatever you do, DON'T EVEN THINK 'bout poopin' anywhere near my nip plants.    MOUSES!

adventures with primroses

So anyway, the peep was prickin' out some primroses the other day and...

Hmmm...  Perhaps I should point out that prickin' out primroses sounds a whole lot meaner than it actually is.  She was just takin' the little itty bitty witty...

Okay, perhaps I should point out that primroses are not actually known for their wit.  

But back to the peep and her prickin'.

So the peep was takin' the little baby primroses that germinated in the spring, prickin' them out, and replanting them into larger trays.  See?  Not mean at all unless, of course, the primroses did not want to be replanted into the bigger trays but so far, they've made no complaints.  Or at least I haven't heard any.

Hmmm...  Perhaps I should point out that primroses, along with not bein' known for their wit, are also not known for havin' a good sense of direction.  They probably didn't even know they were being moved.  MOUSES!

SO ANYWAY, the peep was prickin' out some primroses the other day and...

Well I thought she had been killed or somethin', for sure.  MOUSES!

You should have heard her scream.  Perhaps you did.  I'm pretty sure she was heard miles and miles away.  The peep screamed like no one else has ever screamed before.  It was, my friends, LOUDER than her caterwauling.  Can you believe it?  MOUSES!

My first thought was...

If someone has gone and killed my peep, who will serve me my dinner tonight?  MOUSES!

With the thought of dinner being served late, I immediately ran outside to investigate.  I ran 'round the side of the house and stopped short...

Not 'cause I am short.  I'm not, really.  I'm cat-sized and for a cat, I'm perfectly sized, for sure. Let's face it, all cats are shorter than your average peep.

But back to the bit where I stopped short.  I stopped, dead in my tracks, and stared at the peep. There she was, standing on top of the green bin, screaming at the top of her lungs and...

What's that, Peepers?  FINE.  MOUSES!

I have been informed, it's not nice to tell fibs. MOUSES!

So there was the peep, standing next to the green bin, rather than on top of it.  She had stopped screaming - thank goodness - but was staring at the green bin with wild disbelief.  Her eyes were as big as saucers and...

What's that, Peepers?  FINE.  MOUSES!

Apparently, exaggerations are as bad as fibs. MOUSES!

So anyway...

You can well imagine, I am sure, how relieved I was to see the peep alive and well.  I wiped the perspiration from my brow, knowing that my din-dins would be served on time after all.  I turned around and decided to head on back into the house. Perhaps there was a nip mouse needin' some sniffin' or somethin' and...

But then I thought to myself, I wonder what made the peep scream like no peep has ever screamed before?

So I turned back to the peep and headed on over and that's when I saw it.  That's when I saw...

My gosh, it was the biggest, baddest, meanest lookin' spider in the whole wide world.  It was SO big....

Well at least that's what the peep said.

Hey Peepers!  I thought exaggeratin' and fibbin' were naughty.  How come when YOU exaggerate and fib...

Hmmm...  No answer from the peep.  She has taken the fifth, I do believe.  MOUSES!

Anyway, the spider was 'bout as big as my longest claw and since I've recently had my claws trimmed, that's not very big at all.  As for bein' mean, I think he was just scared.  Scared 'cause the peep accidentally pricked him out of the flower pot with the baby primroses.  You know, the pot where he had made himself a home.  And then there was all that screamin'.  Imagine findin' yourself bein' rudely taken from your house and home, and then being screamed at like no one has ever been screamed at before.  That would pretty much scare anybody, for sure.  Poor little guy...

Or was he a she?  I honestly don't know on account of my not having asked him his name.  Or hers. Whatever.

But there's a lesson to be learned in all this.  Yup, a lesson to be learned by my peep.  When Peep #1 is prickin' out the itty bitty witty primroses, she should be more careful not to prick out the itsy bitsy spiders along with 'em 'cause if she does, I'm gonna blog 'bout her screamin' like a little wittle fraidy baby cat, for sure.  MOUSES!

Not that any cats are actually fraidy cats, mind you.  It's just a sayin' of sorts.  MOUSES!

no, not the nip!

No, no, no!  NO!!!  No, not the nip!  MOUSES!!!!!

You see all those there exclamation marks, my friends?  Those there exclamation marks indicate the level of franticness in my voice. Now I know I'm not one to shy away from an exclamation mark or two or maybe even three but...

But let me tell you, the other day, the exclamation marks were flying around here like a thousand crows heading for their nightly roost.  There were more exclamation marks than even I ever imagined I could use.  There were exclamation marks all over the place.

What's that, Peepers?  You say I'm exaggerating?  Nope, don't thing so, ol' peep of mine.  In fact, I'd say it was quite the opposite.  I'd say...

Well...

Hmmm...

Well let me explain what happened, at my house, the other day.  MOUSES!

So anyway, Peep #1 sometimes does a little fund-raising stuff for a local animal shelter and one of the things she does is help organize a plant sale every May.  The sale was yesterday.

Now part of helping with that sale involves the donating of plants.  She donated a whole bunch of primroses and some other stuff.  I was okay with all of that.  I mean, it's good to help other kitties, right?  So donating plants to a plant sale that's gonna help other kitties is a good thing but...

But let me remind you 'bout my fur-sibs.  Sometimes, some of those fur-sibs can be menaces, for sure.  MOUSES!

You all remember my sister Mason, don't you?

So there I was, minding my own business, when Mason sorta kinda suggested that Peep #1 was thinking about donating my nip plants to the sale.  That's right, my friends, my nip.  MOUSES!

Now when Mason sorta kinda suggested that this was what the peep was thinking of doing, I grew frantic, for sure.  I mean, my nip?  Giving away my nip?  Was the peep really gonna give away my precious plants of nip?  Did she suddenly hate me or something?  Surely not.  Surely...

NEVER MESS WITH MY NIP, MY FRIENDS.  NEVER!

I raced all over the house and the yard looking for pots of nip.  Looking for little nip plants all potted up, waiting to be put in the sale.  I was trying to figure out how I would drag said potted nip plants someplace safe.  Safe from the peep and the sale and anyone who might be thinking 'bout making those nip plants their own.

I was frantic, my friends.  Frantic!

Like I said, NEVER MESS WITH MY NIP.

I was meowing and yelling and crying and meowing and screaming, "WHERE IS MY NIP?"

I was spinning around like a cat chasing his tail...

Okay, maybe not like a cat chasing his tail.  Maybe for a while there I actually was chasing my tail but hey, I'm a cat!  Every cat likes to chase his tail now and then.  You know, to break up the tension in the room and...

But I digress.  Point is, as I was spinning around chasing my tail, I happened to notice Mason out of the corner of an eye and she was sitting there, laughing.  She was sitting there on her haunches laughing and laughing and laughing and that's when I realized....

She was laughing at me!  MOUSES!

That was also 'bout the time I remembered....

That there ol' peep of mine IS USELESS when it comes to the growing of the nip.

I didn't know if I should be upset or relieved.  I mean, should I be relieved with the knowledge that the peep wasn't gonna be giving away my nip plants on account of her ineptitude at growing the nip in the first place or should I be upset that I actually had no nip plants for her to give away.  You know, due to her ineptitude at growing 'em and all.

I was torn, I tell you.  I was torn!

Then I figured out exactly what I should be doing.  More important than being relieved that the peep wasn't giving away my non-existent nip plants and more important than being upset that my nip plants were actually non-existent, I should be...

I SHOULD BE ANGRY WITH MASON FOR FOOLIN' ME LIKE SHE DID.

I mean, what kind of sister does that?  Seriously.  What kind of sister sorta kinda suggests that a cat's peep might be planning to give away all of said cat's non-existent nip plants?  MOUSES!

What's that, Peepers? You say there are actually three nip plants growing in the cage?

Have you LOOKED at 'em lately, Peepers?

Let me tell you, a couple leaves and a straggly stem does not a nip plant make.  MOUSES!

Peepers, those nip plants you're growing are as sickly as sickly can be.  I mean, they're all half dead and the halves that aren't dead are sicker than sick.  The leaves are barely holding onto their stems and I swear that if a cat were to breath on 'em, they'd fall off those stems in a second.

Peepers, remember the Christmas tree that Charlie Brown bought?

That there Charlie Brown Christmas tree was in better shape than those nip plants you're growing. MOUSES!


So anyway, Mason and I are no longer speaking.

Well technically, I'm not speaking to Mason for sorta kinda suggesting what she suggested.  Mason is still laughing at me.

As for the peep and the nip plants? Well that, my friends, is a story we shall continue in another blog post on another day.

But in the meantime, I will mention that the peep bought another Valerian plant at the sale.  Roots smell like stinky feet and let me tell you, I kinda like it, for sure.  MOUSES!

a little common sense

Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty...

Oohhh...  Is that a bird I hear?  Where, where is he?  Oh there he is! Hello there Mr. Birdy. You having a good day so far? That's good to hear.

Now where was I? Twenty-uh...  Awww, not again.  MOUSES!

One, two, three, four...

PEEPERS!  Come over here for a second, would you?  You forget to pick up some sense in the common sense aisle last time you were at the grocery store?  They do sell that over there, don't they?  I mean, they sell pretty much everything there, right?  You forget to get a bag of sense?

Don't give me that look, Peepers.  I'm perfectly justified in asking such a question.  I've been counting all these bags of leaves you dumped back here.  Taken up most of my morning and I still haven't finished counting.  Had a few distractions, you see.  But never mind that.  Never mind the distractions.  Instead, mind the fact that I'm wondering why I'm having to count all these bags in the first place.

What's that, Peepers?  But I do have to count all the bags.  I need to figure out exactly how lacking in sense you are and my final leaf bag total will tell me that.  MOUSES!

One, two, three, four...

Hold on Peepers!  Don't leave just yet.  Let me ask you something.  Let me ask you exactly why you've dumped all these bags of leaves back here because as far as I can tell, all you've done is make one big ol' mess.  The magnitude of the mess will be determined once I finish my mathematical calculations although, truth be told, I appear to be having a little trouble getting past the number four.

But back to the question at paw.  Why have you dumped all these bags of leaves back here?  I only ask because I'm thinking you're doing something backwards.  I mean, everyone else in the neighbourhood is raking up their leaves and putting them in bags and then putting those bags at ends of their driveways so that they'll be taken away.  They don't want them any more.  They don't want the leaves.  They're thinking of them as garbage or something.

So why on earth are you driving around, picking up the stuff they're throwing away?  And then hauling them into my back yard and dumping them in my garden?  MOUSES!

You think about that for a minute, Peepers, while I get back to my counting.  One, two, three, four...

What did you just say, Peepers?  You say the leaves aren't garbage?  Then why is everyone putting them in garbage bags and hoping someone will haul them away?  And why-oh-why have you taken it upon yourself to be the person who ends up doing said hauling?

Now if they were bags of nip I could certainly see why you'd want to pick them up although even I wouldn't know what to do with this much nip.  I mean, there are a whole lot of bags back here.  That would be a whole lot of nip.  That would enough nip to nipify all the cats in Atlantic Canada, to be sure.  MOUSES!

Hmmm...  You don't suppose there might actually be some nip in some of these bags, do you Peepers? Maybe one or two nip bags got mixed up with the bags of leaves?  Nah, I would have smelled the nip by now if there were.  MOUSES!

I should get back to my counting.  One, two, three, four...

What's that, Peepers?  You think I should do what? Hmmm...  Four times nine, divided by nine and then multiplied by the length of this row of bags divided by the length of how many I've already counted and then multiplied and divided by nine again?

Nope, that's just making it more complicated, Peepers.  How 'bout we try this.  You start counting over at that end and I'll count from this end and when we meet up, we'll add 'em all together.  But be sure to keep your counting to yourself, okay?  I'm hoping to get past four this time.  MOUSES!

Okay, Peepers.  What have you got?  How high did you count?

Really?  That high, huh?  You sure?  I only ask because I wasn't aware you were capable of counting that high.  Didn't realize you had that many claws...  I mean, fingers and toes.  MOUSES!

So we'll add your sixty-eight bags to my four.

Yeah, what of it?  Look, the only reason I didn't count past four was that there were a number of distractions over at my end of the pile of bags of leaves.  I actually counted to four numerous times but you know how it is.

Oh excuse me Peepers but I'd like for you to meet Mr. Birdy and his missus.  They're visiting for a bit before flying south.  They have a condo in Florida, I do believe.

Yeah, distractions like that.  MOUSES!

So where were we?  Right.  We need to add your sixty-eight to my four.  Well...

What's that, Peepers?  You say the answer is seventy-two?  How did you come up with that, Peepers?  You have that memorized or something because if you do, you're doing it all wrong.  With the new kitty math at our paws, you have to add stuff to my four in increments of nine until you reach the point where you can't add any more nines.

Because kitties do everything with nines!  Jeesh...  Some peeps.  MOUSES!

Then, of course, after all that adding you have to multiply everything by nine at least once and then divide by nine the same number of times.

Because like I said, we kitties like the number nine.  It is the purrfect number, to be sure.  (Please excuse the kitty talk but I couldn't help myself there.)

Now, four plus nine plus nine plus nine...  Okay, four plus nine, seven times...  Well that equals sixty-seven.  Then we subtract sixty-three from your sixty-eight.  That gives us five.  Then if I add that five to sixty-seven and multiply that total by nine, twice and then divide by nine, twice, I get...

Look at that, Peepers.  Your answer of seventy-two was right after all.  MOUSES!

And you say you did that just by somehow knowing that four added to sixty-eight would be seventy-two, huh?  Interesting...

Well we'll discuss your weird, old-fashioned and archaic math they used to teach at dinosaur school at some other time, Peepers.  Right now, I want to discuss this lack of common sense you appear to have.  By my calculations, it appears that you're about seventy-two bags of leaves short of a spoonful of sense.  MOUSES!

What's that, Peepers?  Oh.  Really? Well in that case...

Apparently, the peep is creating a new flower bed in which she plans on planting primroses and stuff and since there is currently lawn - yeah, that's what we call it at my house even though most real gardeners would beg to differ - in the area where the flower bed is to be, she's piling up the leaves and adding a little alfalfa meal to help speed up the decomposition process so that by next fall, she'll have lots of nice humus-rich soil for those primroses. Wonder why she didn't just say so in the first place.  MOUSES!

the cheekiness of squirrels

It has come to my attention that the mainstream news outlets have been remiss in their coverage of a very important story.

Hmmm...  Been remiss? That may be a bit of an understatement.  A very big understatement, in fact.  They haven't been coverin' this breaking story at all!  Crazy, that is.  Crazier than a squirrel makin' nut pies kinda crazy, for sure.

Yes, my friends, we are talking 'bout squirrels.  MOUSES!

All I can say is, thank goodness for Twitter.

Havin' been in contact with several pals from around the world, it has come to my attention that this issue at paw is of international importance.  An epidemic of global proportions and yet, like I said, the mainstream news has completely ignored the phenomenon.  The phenomenon that is, the cheekiness of squirrels.  MOUSES!

Pals from the United Kingdom and the United States of America are reportin' that squirrels in their nations are actin' cheekily.  Only a matter of time before they start actin' all squirrelly, too.

I, Nerissa the Cat, reportin' from right here in Nova Scotia, Canada, can attest to the fact that Canadian squirrels are followin' global trends and bein' cheeky, as well.

And the cause of all this cheekiness?  As of yet, scientists don't know.  Further observation is needed and more data is required however one theory is that squirrels throughout the northern hemisphere are all suffering from a serious case of spring fever.  The other workin' theory is that... Well...  That they're squirrels.  They're just squirrels bein' squirrels and actin' all cheeky.  MOUSES!

You know, squirrels are kinda known for their cheekiness.  They get away with a lot of it on account of their cuteness.  Their cuteness factor per ounce outweighs most species.  Hard to stay angry with a squirrel no matter how cheeky he gets.

A couple weeks ago, I had a squirrel come right up to my office window.  RIGHT UP TO THE WINDOW!  He was lookin' in and spyin' on me and whatnot.  He even tapped on it.  Morse Code, I do believe but it was all messed up so that I couldn't understand him.  Squirrel Morse Code is different from normal Morse Code, you see.  Squirrels just tap out gibberish thinkin' cats and peeps can read their minds.  Bunch of dashes and dots makin' no sense at all.  Whatever he was sayin', it all sounded Greek to me.

Then just yesterday, I was lookin' out that very same window and I thought, for a moment, that I was seein' an unfamiliar cat.  That's right folks, I thought I saw a puddy cat.

Turned out to be a really big squirrel, instead.  MOUSES!

Yes, those cheeky squirrels here in Nova Scotia are big.  They're of the big grey variety.  We used to have little red guys and some folks still do but at my house, the grey ones have invaded and taken over.  Haven't seen a red squirrel in over a year.  MOUSES!

A word of advice.  Whatever you do, always approach a cheeky squirrel with caution.  You don't wanna get 'em upset.  You don't wanna make 'em angry.  You don't wanna give 'em reason to fight.

Those big grey squirrels will sit up on the branches of an oak tree and start hurlin' acorns down at you.  The acorns will rain down upon your head.  You ever witness a scene like that?  I have and let's just say, Peep #1 needed a couple Aspirin after the fact.

Unfortunately, the peeps 'round here have angered the squirrel population and they're demandin' their voices be heard.

Did I say peeps?  Actually, I meant peep.  It was Peep #1 to be exact.

Yesterday afternoon was a lovely sunny day here in the valley and the peep headed outside with a saw in her paw.  It's just a little saw that she has.  Can't trust her with anythin' much bigger but you'd be surprised at the amount of chaos she's capable of causin' with the little one she has.

So the peep headed out to the front of the yard and started whackin' away at the lower branches of some spruce trees.  Makin' way for the plantin' of more primroses, I do believe.  The primrose bed in question is still partially covered in snow which is a whole other story but back to the spruce trees, the peep and her saw.

She sawed and she sawed and she sawed, removing the lower four feet or so of branches.  I checked it out afterwards and have to admit that it looks pretty good.  Well it does to me but to the squirrels?  They are of an entirely different opinion.

The squirrels arrived this morning in full force.  "Where are our branches?" they loudly demanded.

I tried to come to Peep #1's defence, pointing out to the squirrels that those particular branches were not zoned for residential use as they were too close to the ground.  It's a cat zone.  Squirrels should never build in cat zones as the insurance premiums are far too costly.

But the squirrels weren't listenin'.  They claim they never intended to build homes in that area but rather, that those branches were part of their transportation network.  Access roads to their superhighways and whatnot. Who knew that squirrels had access roads?  MOUSES!

Long story short, the peep has got the squirrel community all riled up.  Only a matter of time before this thing escalates.  Only a matter of time before the peep, once again, falls prey to a squirrelly acorn attack.

And will I, Nerissa the Cat, come to her defence?

Probably not.  I saw the last one and although not pretty, it was definitely entertainin'.  Remind me to order in a cheesy nip pizza and some nipbrewskis for the occasion.  Gonna be prime time Squirrel TV, for sure.  MOUSES!

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

Please remember that throughout the month of April, a portion of all sales of the book Rescued: The Stories of 12 Cats, Through Their Eyes will go to the wonderful Anjellicle Cats Rescue of New York, helpin' them to help save cats' lives.  You can purchase your very own copy at your local book store or on Amazon by clicking right HERE.  You'll wanna stock up for holiday gift-giving, for sure.  PURRS.

dreamin' of spring flowers

He has two days to get outta here.  Two more days to get lost and that's that.  I'm not givin' him any more time.  He has had enough.  More than enough.  I've had it with him and that's a fact, for sure.  MOUSES!

You're probably all wonderin' exactly who has overstayed their welcome around here.  Would it be...  Nosey-Neighbour-Cat?  Nope.  Haven't seen that ol' NNC in ages and even if I had, NNC is - and always will be - far more welcome than the one of whom I speak.  Or should that be write?  Blog?  Whatever.

Anywho...  I'm talkin' about that Ol' Man Winter.  I've had it with him.  Had it up to my ears!

Okay, I know...  Bein' a cat and all, my ears aren't very high but you get my point, I am sure. MOUSES!

The calendar says that in two days time, it's supposed to be the first day of spring so I'm givin' Ol' Man Winter exactly two days to pack up his bags and get outta town.  I want him gone.  GONE, I say.  I want him here no more.

And if he doesn't go?  Why then I'm gonna...

Truth be told, I haven't actually thought quite that far ahead but whatever I do, it'll be somethin' that'll have Ol' Man Winter shakin' in his boots, for sure.  His winter boots and all.  MOUSES!

I've been pretty sick and tired of that ol' man for quite some time now but this week was the final straw.  A week before spring and what does he do?  He slams us with not one - but TWO - winter storms in just a few days.  The whole province is under a winter storm warnin' for the second time this week.  MOUSES!

I was finally beginnin' - just beginnin', mind you - to be able to see above the mound of snow outside my office window.  I was finally beginnin' to be able to see traces of movement out there on the road.  Keep track of the dogs out walkin' their peeps and whatnot.  But after this second storm, that ol' mountain of white stuff is just as high now as it was before.  Again I must say, MOUSES!

I heard that in the month of February, Ol' Man Winter dumped over five feet of the white stuff on us, here in the valley. That was on top of a whole whack of snow in January and now in March, here we are, gettin' more.  Over a foot, I think, on Sunday and there must have been at least that much again, today.  In fact, it's still snowin' right now.  Or maybe it's just blowin'.  I can't really tell.  IT'S LIKE A BLIZZARD OUT THERE.

Miss Spring had better arrive on Friday.  She had better be on time.  She had better get her schedule straight.

Sure do hope she's not takin' a plane to get here.  Flights in and out of the airport have been delayed and cancelled all over the place due to the winter storm.  MOUSES!  That Ol' Man Winter is up to his tricks, again.

Anywho...  Miss Spring is gonna have to dig her way out of a snow pile or somethin' and she had better do so very, very soon.  I'm hopin' that if I give Ol' Man Winter the winter boot first thing on Friday mornin', Miss Spring will show her face by afternoon.  I've got all four paws crossed that she will but don't worry, I know better than to cross all four of my paws all at once while standin' up.  I learned that lesson the hard way and that's enough said on that subject, I should think.

And here in the house, Peep #1 has been thinkin' that Miss Spring has already arrived.  Apparently, the peep hasn't looked out any windows recently.  Oh yeah, she can't 'cause they're all covered with snow.  But if she could, one look out there and she'd know that spring is nowhere to be found.

In my sunroom, occupyin' prime sunpuddle territory, are pots of sweet peas and wallflowers and a few other things.  I think the peep was plannin' on puttin' them out on the deck this month durin' the warmer days, gettin' them ready for plantin' outside in early May. Well that's not gonna happen.  Deck still has several feet of snow on it and that ol' snow isn't plannin' on goin' anywhere, anytime soon.

I wonder if I packed Ol' Man Winter's bags with snow if he'd take some of the white stuff with him.  It's a thought. Can't think of a reason not to try. Wonder where he keeps his bags.  Hmmm....

And I haven't really been helpin' matters much.  I've kinda been encouragin' the peep to think all things spring 'cause I finally found a source for the peep's favourite pansies and put in my order so that I could give her a package of seed for Peep Day.  Well technically it's called Mother's Day but Peep #1 isn't my mama.  My mama was a lovely long-haired tuxie girl and my peep is no tuxie cat. The peep is...  Well...  Well she's just a peep.  So Peep Day, it is.

I had to work long and hard findin' those pansy seeds for Ol' Peepers.  Place where the peep used to get 'em stopped sellin' them so I had to do some investigatin', on-line.  Good thing I have good investigative skills, for sure.

Peep #1's favourite pansies are called Blue Frost and they're really pretty.  I remember when she grew 'em before.  The petals were snow white with cute little faces and edged in lovely shades of blue.  The blues went beautifully with my sterling silver - some say platinum - tabby fur.  Perfect pansies for my peep to grow.  Perfect pansies for me to pose with for picture takin', too.

And speakin' of pictures, that's exactly what I intended to do.  I had intended to allow the peep to take my picture while I posed in and amongst some pretty spring flowers.  I intended to cooperate with the peep.  Cooperation, on my part, for picture takin' is somethin' I very rarely do.  Problem is, all the spring flowers are still stuck under all that snow and goodness knows when they'll get out. What is a kitty to do?  MOUSES!

So for now I'll just have to sit back and dream of the days when the spring flowers will bloom.  Pansies and wallflowers and lilies-of-the-valley, too. And primroses!  We mustn't forget the primroses, for sure.

One day, once Miss Spring has settled in, she'll breath upon the earth and bring the spring flowers to life.  One day...

Gosh, I had best get the guest bedroom ready and in ship-shape.  Get the sheets changed and whatnot for Miss Spring's arrival.  She'll need someplace to sleep and quite frankly, right now, it's stinkin' of that Ol' Man Winter, for sure.  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!

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

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

the royal visit

So Prince Charles and the Duchess of Cornwall were visiting Nova Scotia on the weekend.  I didn't get to meet 'em though.  Apparently, my invitation was lost in the mail.  MOUSES!

Anywho...  I watched Charles and Camilla for a bit on television and saw that they, just as I, enjoy an occasional walkabout.  It's true.  They did a walkabout around parts of Halifax and whatnot just like I do walkabouts in my very own garden.  You know what they say.  They say, great minds think alike and obviously, great minds enjoy the occasional walkabout, too.

After watchin' the Royals doin' their walkabout, I figured I should do one of my own.  I asked Peep #1 if she'd like to join me but she was busy doin' somethin' silly so I went outside by myself.  I headed out the window and proceeded to do a leisurely inspection of the garden.

At some point durin' said walkabout, I decided to jump up onto the car.  There's a nice vantage point from the top of that car and, more importantly, its powdery blue colour sets off the sparkle in my sterling silver - some say platinum - coat, quite nicely.  Let's just say, I look really good sittin' on that car.

But once up there, I found evidence of a crime I most certainly did not want to find.  A scratch?  No, worse.  A dent?  Nope, even worse than that.  What pray tell did I find, you ask?  I found...  BIRD DROPPINGS.  That's right.  I found a couple of big ol' white splotches that were clearly left behind by one or more birds.  MOUSES!

I looked this way and that way.  Then I looked that way and this way.  Finally, I looked way, way up.  There was nothin' to see in any of those directions.  Nothin' to see at all.

Then I heard, off in the distance, the roar of one of those noisy metal birds.  You know, a plane.  There's an air force base not too far from here and sometimes, my garden appears to be in the flight path of the planes landin' and takin' off there.  I thought about it for a bit but figured a metal bird probably wouldn't leave droppings such as those I had discovered on the car.  Unless, of course, someone had gone in to use the loo on that plane and...   Nah...  I don't think that kind of thing can happen.  I hope that kind of thing can't happen.  MOUSES!

No, I studied the situation and realised that the bird or birds who had dropped those droppings must be of a non-metallic nature.  In other words, the type of birds who hang out in my garden.

I immediately ruled out the chickadees, goldfinches and hummingbirds.  Those are all wee little birds and, quite frankly, these were BIG droppings.  Hmmm....  MOUSES!

I sat there on that car, contemplating all there was to contemplate.  Birds...  droppings...  flight path. I stared ahead at the big ol' oak tree in the back yard.  Then I glanced over my shoulder and stared at the big ol' oak tree at the end of my driveway in the front yard.  Suddenly, I had my answer. MOUSES!

I immediately raced inside the house to tell the peep what I had discovered.  I knew she would want to hear about my findings.  I had made the discovery of the century!  Okay... FINE.  The discovery of late last Sunday afternoon but a discovery, nonetheless.

I had discovered that our car was sittin' right in middle of a flight path.  It was right in the middle of the flight path of the local troupe of actors who regularly perform in The Crow Show right there in my garden.  Their stage is the big ol' oak tree in my back yard.  They perform matinees there, daily. Sometimes even a double-feature.  But one of their mornin' rehearsal areas is the big ol' oak tree at the end of the driveway in the front yard.  If one were to draw an imaginary line between those two big oak trees, one would reveal the acting troupe's flight path and one would find that, lo and behold, that flight path flies immediately above where the car sits.

What to do...   What to do...  I asked the peep if we could move the stage area for The Crow Show but she said no.   I asked her about movin' the crows' rehearsal area and again was told no.  Then I asked her 'bout movin' the driveway itself.  Once more, I heard the word no.

"But I could always move the car," the peep said.

"Nah," I answered.  "I have a better idea.  How 'bout someone just gets out there and gives the car a good ol' wash.  Perhaps one of my minions," I suggested, "and by minion, I mean you."  I looked pointedly at the peep to make sure she understood.

Turnin' away from Peep #1, I headed back outside to complete my walkabout and ponder the important things in life.  The important things in life such as...  Why the mouses did I not get an invite to meet with Charles and Camilla when they were visitin' Nova Scotia?  Why? WHY?

Clearly, my invitation really had been lost somewhere in the mail.  There is simply no other reasonable explanation.  No other reasonable explanation at all.  MOUSES!

been a long time

It has been a long time since I did a this and that post.  Probably months and months!  Better do one up for today, I should think.

In the wake of the Great Flood of 2014, there have been a lot of little things goin' on at my house.  Little things that could very well add up to one big post containin' a little of this and a little of that.

Spring is late.  No doubt about it.  I have informed Mother Nature 'bout her slackin' bein' unappreciated but so far, I've heard nothin' back.  How rude.

For the past week, the primroses have been starting to bloom but there are still way more buds than blooms and I have not yet been able to pose amongst them for my spring photo shoot.  Same with the daffodils.  Only the yellow ones are bloomin' and the bed is lookin' somewhat patchy.  And the violets? They're comin' up, sure, but only leaves so far and not a single flower in sight.

Does Mother Nature not realise I have a spring photo shoot to do?  Peeps out there are wantin' to see pictures of me with the flowers.  They're awaitin' new pictures.  I'm havin' to use pictures from previous springs in my posts.  MOUSES!

Speakin' of violets...  The peep is ever-so-pleased to see her special little fragrant violets are startin' to pop up through the soil.  I inspected them yesterday and let me tell you...  I've never seen anythin' so little and piddly and piddly and little before in my life.  Totally useless.  I really can't see myself posin' with those.  One paw in the wrong spot and...  well...  SQUISH.  Know what I mean?

Oohhh...  but I've got some big news.  WE HAVE SWALLOWS!  It's true.  There are swallows nestin' in the overhang of the garage.  Peep says they might be barn swallows which is weird 'cause we don't have a barn and they're nestin' in the garage.  Anyone out there ever hear of garage swallows?

I've been babysitting 'em.  We cats all have.  The swallows don't mind.

Every time the peep comes round to that side of the garage, she finds one of us cats lyin' down on the ground just below where the swallows appear to have their nest.  We can't really see the nest although Ol' Peepers thought she saw some nestin' material stickin' out of the little opening.

We cats haven't actually been sittin' on the eggs keeping 'em warm or anything like that.  No, we just lie there, below their nest, protectin' it from marauding nosey neighbour cats and whatnot.

Like I said, the swallows don't mind my fur-fam at all.  On the contrary, we're all pals.  The peeps, on the other paw, are somethin' else.  Whenever the peeps come around the corner, there's a wild flurry of wings and the parent swallows fly off.  They fly off so quickly, it's all just a blur but the sound lets the peeps know they've just had a swallow fly-by.

Numerous times, I have tried to explain to the swallows that really, my peeps will do 'em no harm but so far, they're not buyin' it.  Swallows are smart, you see.  Swallows know that humans cause the vast majority of songbird related deaths in the world.  The swallows feel safe with us cats but peeps are a different matter.  Let's just say that peeps are a totally different species of trouble.

Yesterday, for the first time in two whole years, Peep #1 finally figured out that the brambles growin' next to my Japanese Moon Garden have to go.  I have been tellin' her to get rid of those things for two years now and only yesterday, did she start cutting 'em down.  I think she's goin' hard of hearin' or somethin'.

I call the garden that 'cause Japanese Moon Garden sounds so pretty but really, it's not a Japanese garden and no one is allowed to moon anyone while in there.  What's that Peepers?  The moon refers to the moon in the sky 'cause  the plants are light-coloured and glisten in the moonlight? Interestin'...  Who knew?  Oh yeah, and I guess the Japanese honeysuckle is kinda Japanese.  My name for the garden is makin' more and more sense by the minute.  MOUSES!

From what I've heard, the deck next to my Japanese Moon Garden is probably goin' bye-bye this summer.  Sure do hope the peep manages to salvage my honeysuckles.  They attract the hummingbirds and you all know how I love my hummers.

But back to the brambles.  You should have seen the peep!  She got scratched so many times I lost count.  Those moused-up brambles kept reachin' out and grabbin' at her clothes and skin while she went at 'em with the secateurs.  FINALLY, they were all down and most of 'em have been snipped up and put in the green bin, waitin' to be carted away on the next garbage day for compostin'.  She pretty much filled the bin to the brim so the rest will have to wait 'til the bin is empty, I guess.

You know, those brambles would not have gotten so out of paw had the peep listened to me two years ago when I told her they were in my way every time I tried to walk from the front yard into the back and visa versa.  MOUSES!

And finally, I should just mention about the fur that flew last night.

Howls and yowls and then yowls and howls could be heard emanatin' from the basement.  At first I thought, did a rocky raccoon get into my house?  Then I recognised the voices and realised...  Nope, not rockies.  Only marmies.

My two marmalade brothers were goin' at it.  For some reason, Rushton and Seville just don't get along with one another.  Actually, for the last month or so, the peeps have been commenting on how they have been gettin' along better but I guess, really, they were just savin' up their animosity.

Peep #1 went downstairs and picked up Seville, noticing a big wad of marmalade fur that did not belong to him 'cause it was too long, stuck to his paw.  I heard her tellin' Rushton to get his tail upstairs and sure enough, Rushy ran up the stairs.  She then brought Sivvers up and proceeded to calm the two of 'em down which really required not much more than bein' separated from one another.

But this mornin'!  This mornin', Ol' Peepers went downstairs and found a small cat's worth of marmie fur in the furnace room.  Those two must have been really goin' at it.  A real knock 'em down, rollin' on the floor with whappy paws kind of fight.  Needless to say, they're both pawin' on thin ice with the peeps right now.  Rushton is tryin' to convince Peep #1 that he was just sheddin' on account of it bein' spring and all but so far, she's not buyin' it.  MOUSES!

So that's about it for my this and that post, I think.  I was gonna write about the smoke yesterday but I'll save that for a future post.  Maybe a post all to itself.  You'll just have to just stay tuned for that one.

the plantin' of primroses

You know...  Peep #1 grows primroses like I build teleportation devices.

Whenever I see Ol' Peepers goin' through the house, scrounging around, gathering up things you normally wouldn't gather up together, I know she's up to somethin'.  Up to somethin' like plantin' primroses.  Not that long ago, I witnessed just such an event.

Ol' Peepers was diggin' in the kitchen drawers and cupboards lookin' for scissors and plastic wrap.  Then she found some black electrical tape and a marker in the basement.  When I saw her bringin' empty old coffee tins in from the garage, I figured she was up to no good.  When I saw her with a hammer and a nail, I knew she was up to no good.  Once I saw the plant tags, watering can and potting mix, I knew she was plannin' on making a mess.  The evidence was all there.  One plant-related mess was on its way, for sure.

The peep is really good at making messes.  She does it quite often and you know what they say. They say, practise makes perfect.  Well the peep has had a lot of practise with makin' messes so she makes them really well.

As I watched Ol' Peepers with her plastic wrap and electrical tape, I realised she was just an eggbeater and frying pan short of a teleportation device.   Throw in a whisk and she might manage a time machine.

It's at times like this when I realise that the peep isn't nearly as dense as she appears.  She actually has the makings of a fairly decent engineer in her.  Not quite there, though.  She has no grasp of the math required to fully understand the physics of egg beater-whisk time travelling-teleportation physics.  Complicated math like that really is best left up to us cats.  We understand it, instinctively.

Anywho...  you're probably all wonderin' what plastic wrap has to do with primroses.  Let me explain.

Every winter, the peep does the same thing.  When it's cold and snowy outside, she plants primrose seeds for my primrose garden.  I really do appreciate her planting the primroses 'cause, to be honest, I look really good posin' among them when they bloom.  They just sort of suit me or somethin'.

The first part of plantin' primroses is the noisiest part.  With the hammer and nail, she makes holes in the bottoms of all the coffee tins.  I am told that due to an impending shortage of coffee tins, this part of the process may no longer be needed.  Apparently, the kind of coffee she used to buy switched from bein' packaged in tins to bein' packaged in little bags.  Since the only reason she liked that particular brand of coffee was to gain access to the tins, she switched brands.  Alas, this new brand is also packaged in bags.

I can't imagine switchin' from my favourite brand of food just because of a change in packaging.  As long as the food inside is the same, I would be fine with it.  Peep #1 had better not get any ideas about switching my food so as to give her access to tins for the plantin' of primroses.  I like the primroses and all but I don't like them well enough to interfere with my meals.  Doin' something like that would be crazy.  Crazier than a squirrel makin' nut pies kind of crazy.  The peep had better come up with a new tin acquisition plan right away and that plan had better not have anythin' to do with the enjoyment of my meals, if you know what I mean.

But I digress.  Back to the peep's plantin'.

After she makes the holes in the the coffee tins, Peep #1 fills 'em up with potting mix.  She then soaks all that mix really well before squishin' it down - just a teeny bit - with her hand.  She usually gets her hands all dirty doin' this and then has to go wash 'em.  Like I said before, the peep messes stuff up really well.  She's even capable of messin' up herself!

The next step is to sprinkle the seeds on top of the potting mix.  I am not allowed to help with this part which I find to be extremely unfair.  Peep says the seeds are too small for me to be gettin' my paws in there.  I say, my paws are a whole lot smaller than the peep's hands and therefore I am much better suited to the task.  So far, the peep has not yet acquiesced on this point but give it time.  One day, I shall get my way.  I just know it.

The next step is to water in the seeds with some more water.  I don't know why it's called watering in.  Think the peep just says that to show off or somethin'.

Then she uses the marker to write the names of the primroses on plant tags and sets them down to dry.  This is another stage in which I am, unfairly, not allowed to participate.  She always mutters something about my getting permanent marker all over my paws but I think she's just makin' that up, too. Like I'm really gonna get that marker all over my paws.  MOUSES!

Once, my dad walked over the driveway right after the peep had put some sort of black stuff on it and before the black stuff had managed to dry.  Now that was a mess.  Then the peep had to take a wire brush to get the black stuff off the new brick pathway 'cause my dad had walked along that pathway right after walkin' over the not-yet-dry driveway.  A little bit of marker on my paws has NOTHIN' on driveway stuff paw prints all over a new brick pathway.  Peeps just like to make mountains out of mole hills, I think.  Always makin' somethin' out of nothin', they are.  MOUSES!

So the peep's next step is to cover the coffee tins and seeds with plastic wrap.  This is the best part of the whole show.  You ever watch a peep with plastic wrap?  PRICELESS.

Ol' Peepers can't manage plastic wrap usage to save her soul.  That plastic wrap outsmarts her every time.  It sticks where it shouldn't and never sticks where it should.  It gets all balled up and she has to pull it apart but if the pulling apart part proves too difficult, she has to start all over again. Then when she actually goes to tear it, it doesn't always tear.  Sometimes it just sort of pulls, gettin' thinner and thinner, holdin' on the rest of the wrap on the mother wrap roll for dear life.  That's usually about the time when I hear the peep cry, "MOUSES!"   I've even seen her stomp her feet in frustration.  Always a fun show to watch, for sure.  Almost as good as Bird TV.

Eventually, the peep manages to get two layers of plastic wrap over each of the coffee tins.  Then she wraps the electrical tape around the plastic wrap to secure it because, as everyone knows, plastic wrap never sticks to what it's supposed to stick.  Only sticks to everything else.  And somewhere in the wrappin' of the electrical tap, the plant tags get attached to the outside of the tins.

Well Ol' Peepers has planted up a dozen or more coffee tins with primrose seed and put 'em all out on the veranda.  Don't know what other peeps think when they come to my front door.  You have to admit, seein' rows of coffee tins by someone's front door is a pretty weird thing to see.  Well, I think it's weird.  Maybe peeps out there just find it to be normal.  Who knows, really.  Peeps do weird things all the time so maybe they're used to seein' other peeps doin' weird things, too.

I wanted to show you some pictures of the mess the peep made with her coffee tins and electrical tape but, to be honest, it was a mess and just looked weird.  Then I thought I might grab a couple of whisks and travel forward in time to get some pictures of me with the primroses when they're big enough to bloom.  But then I realised I didn't have to do any time travelin' for pictures 'cause I know the peep already has pictures of me with primroses, blooming in years past.  So I grabbed a few shots from the computer and put 'em up here on my blog.  Hope you like 'em.

I have to admit, the peep does grow some pretty primroses.  I can't wait 'til May when they're blooming again.  I'm gonna pose in them and have Ol' Peepers take my picture, I think.  Should be nice.  Pictures of me posin' in the primroses are always nice.  Don't you agree?