twenty-four weeks

Shakespeare's got NOTHIN' on me.

MOUSES!

Yeah, yeah..   I know.  I know what you're thinkin'.  I know he's more famous, and all that.

But...

But he wasn't a cat.

MOUSES!

Can you imagine?  Can you IMAGINE how much greater Will would have been, had he been feline?

MOUSES!

I was doin' a little light readin' the other night, and discovered somethin' interestin'.  DID YOU KNOW that William Shakespeare turned to writin' poetry durin' the plague in the 1590s?

Yup, that's what he did.

I read it on the Internet so it must be true.

MOUSES!

They...

Now I have no idea who THEY are, but they seemed to know what they were talkin' about, and what they were sayin' fit my PURRsonal narrative, so I figured I'd go with what THEY said, without investigatin' any further.

So anyway...

So anyway, they said that Will...

I call him Will, on account of my bein' pretty sure that if he and I, Seville the Cat, were livin' at the same time, we'd be on a first name basis, you see.

MOUSES!

But like I was sayin'...

Like I was sayin', THEY said that Will turned to writin' poetry on account of all the theatres bein' shut down for about six months, due to The Plague.

So I figured, if Will turned to poetry durin' the plague, I should try my paw at a little poetry myself.  After all, Will didn't have to be cooped up in the same house as Peep #1 and Peep #2 for like an absolute eternity.

Like me.

MOUSES!

So after bein' stuck here with the peeps for like ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY MILLION, six hundred and thirty-six thousand, eight hundred cat seconds, I present to you...

MY sonnet.

I call it, Ode to a Puddle.

MOUSES!

Nothing is as fresh nor as sweet, my love,

as the divine taste of rain that has fall'n

on the path which lies there, next to my house.

The joyful rain that collects in puddles

is known to felines here and everywhere

as puddle water; water that puddles.

For the water that puddles is Heavn's gift

to all who appreciate the finer

things in life, like catnip and wand toys and

nip mice.  Oh, the sweet water of puddles.

It comes not from a tap nor a fountain.

'Tis not from anything paw or hand made.

The water that puddles is a sweet gift

from the sky above; pure freshness for me.

So what do you think?  Are you thinkin' what I'm thinkin?

'Cause I'm thinkin'...

I'm thinkin', Will would have been proud to have called me his contemporary.

Had I been alive in the sixteenth century, of course.

Actually, I think that might mean the same thing.

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.

puddle water!

Whatcha doin', Peepers?  It's like...  two-thirty in the morning.  Little early to be getting up, don't you think?

Oh yeah, I forgot about that.  I forgot that Mason didn't come in earlier when you called her.  You goin' out to check on her again?

Nah, I'll just watch from a window.

Little did the peep know, Mason was busy outside, countin' her thumbs.

Just kidding!  Not about the having thumbs part.  My sister Mason does have thumbs. She just doesn't waste her time counting 'em.  Why would she?  She already knows she has two.  MOUSES!

"I'm coming!  I'm coming!  Oh no! MOUSES!"  And that was exactly what Mason cried as she watched the mouse she had been carrying in her mouth, scamper across the driveway, before hiding in a flower bed.

"OH NO!  MOUSES!" And THAT was what Mason cried as Peep #1 swooped down from above, grabbed my sister around her middle, and hauled her up into her arms.

"Let me go!  Let me go!" Mason cried as she did the squirmy-wormy dance, trying to get out of the peep's grasp.  "He's getting away!  He's getting away!  Let me at him!  LET ME AT HIM!"

Needless to say, my sister Mason was brought inside for the night and the mouse escaped further capture.  MOUSES!

"Of all the ungrateful...  MOUSES!" and Mason stomped off into the family room, grumbling the entire way.

"She's not listening to you." I told my sister.  "Be thankful it's two-thirty in the morning and she's too tired to lecture you on the catchin' of critters."

"But I was bringing that critter home for her!" and Mason stomped a paw once more for effect.  "As I said, of all the ungrateful..."

"She's already back in bed, Mason.  Give it up."  I snickered as I added, "Just like you had to give up the critter.  Hehehehehee..."

"It took me a really long time to catch that mouse in the first place," Mason grumbled and lifting a hind leg, she began to give herself a bath.  "Mice are hard to come by in our yard," she muttered between licks.  "We've pretty much moused the whole place out.  And there I was, so exciting to bring the one little guy I managed to catch, home to Peep #1 and..."

"Yeah, yeah...  That's me back to bed.  Night Mason!" and I walked away, leaving my sister still grumbling as she washed her other hind leg.

But to tell you the truth, Mason was right.  It is hard to find mice around our house.  We really have kinda moused the whole place out.

Birds, though, are a totally different story.

You should SEE the birdies out there.

Why just this morning, a small flock of black birds of some kind were playing on my driveway, 'cause Peep #1 had put the sprinkler on for the pansies, and some of the water was hitting the pavement.  Those birdies were splashing about in the water, taking a sip now and then, and then splashing some more.  Fluffing their feathers and preening.  They were having such fun!

Frolicking.  Yup, that's what those birdies were doin', for sure.  Frolicking.

In fact, the birdies were havin' such fun that the peep didn't have the heart to turn off the sprinkler until they all flew away.

Of course...

Of course, the reason they flew off was none other than my sister Mason.

Yup, she sure does get around.

After sleeping in, on account of her late night the night before, Mason enjoyed a bite of brunch.

You know, brunch.  That meal eaten between - not necessarily in place of - breakfast and lunch, although in this case, Mason did miss her breakkies 'cause like I said, she had slept in.

Anyway...  Mason had some brunch before heading outside.  I think she was planning on checking out those flower beds, to see if she could find her mousie from the night before.

No sooner was Mason outside, but she spotted...

Bet you're thinking she spotted those birdies, huh?  Yeah.  Bet you're thinkin' that, for sure.  But if you are thinking that, you'd be totally wrong.

Well not totally.  I'm sure Mason did see the birdies but the birdies were not what caught my sister's attention, and I know this to be true because all of a sudden I heard a cry of...

PUDDLE WATER!

Oh yeah, my sister Mason is a connoisseur of the puddles.  Just as some peeps enjoy a fine wine, my sister enjoys a fine puddle, for sure.  MOUSES!

Doesn't matter how many bowls of clean, cool, fresh water the peeps put out for us in the kitchen and stuff, Mason ALWAYS prefers a puddle.  She says puddle water is tastier and to tell you the truth, I have to agree with her 'bout that.  MOUSES!

Anyway...  The next thing I knew, Mason had raced toward the sprinkler and skidded to a stop next to the largest of the puddles.

And that, my friends, would be 'bout the same time when all those birdies flew away.

Now some cats might be offended by such rudeness but not my sister Mason.  No sirree.  Mason just looked around and grinned happily, "All the more puddle for me!"

After downing 'bout half a puddle, she headed back toward the house, looking for that mousie from the night before.

And if I'm not mistaken, I think I might have heard Mason saying under her breath, "I'll save the rest of that puddle for later, to wash down that mousie. Now where is he..."

MOUSES!