told you

Told you, Peepers.  I told you.  You were sittin' right there in that chair when I TOLD you.

But did you listen to your darlin' Seville, ol' peep of mine?  DID you?

OH NO...  No, you wouldn't dream of listenin', would you?  Why, it felt like you were actually ignorin' me.

MOUSES!

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

Say WHAT?  You're sayin' that you did, in fact, hear what I said but thought...

You thought WHAT?

Of all the no-good-for-nothin' things for a peep to think.

And of your own darlin', ginger-furred kitty.

How could you?

MOUSES!

I know, I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin' that I, Seville the Cat, told Peepers somethin' which she chose to ignore and then, as if that wasn't bad enough, did somethin' far worse.

The peep, I mean.  It was the peep who did somethin' far worse, whatever that might be, and now...

And now...

Awww....  MOUSES!

Okay, so here's the deal: The other night, I heard a noise.  I told the peep I heard said noise AND I THOUGHT she was ignorin' me.  But in reality...

But in reality...

But in reality, she did somethin' far worse.  Apparently, Peepers didn't so much ignore me as she did question what I was hearin'.

'Cause SHE heard it, too.

And do you know what she did?

She blamed me.

ME!

The most wonderful and innocent kitty a peep could ever know.

ME.

MOUSES!

And if not me, Saffron, I suppose.

MOUSES!

So here's the rest of the deal: When Peepers went out the next mornin', she found the green bin lyin' on the ground with its contents scattered all over the driveway.

And let me tell you somethin', my wonderful pals: I, Seville the Cat, DID. NOT. DO. THAT.

Never done such a naughty thing in all my nine lives.

MOUSES!

You just be quiet over there, ol' peep of mine.  When I say I've never done anythin' that naughty, I MEAN, I'VE NEVER EVER DONE ANYTHIN' THAT NAUGHTY IN ALL MY NINE LIVES.  And might I suggest you take me at my word.

MOUSES!

Besides, I couldn't knock that ol' green bin over, even if I tried.  It's pretty big, you see.  And quite heavy.  And when there's stuff in it, the weight is all concentrated at the bottom, so knockin' it over is really, really hard, and...

NEVER YOU MIND HOW I KNOW, PEEPERS.

Yeah, well what sounds like experience to you is uh...

Umm...

Nothin' more than an educated guess.

Like I said, NEVER YOU MIND.

By gosh and by golly, a cat makes several dozen prior attempts to knock a loaded green bin down, and fails, but when the green bin IS eventually knocked to the ground, it's the innocent kitty who ends up bein' accused and interrogated.

MOUSES!

So what was it that knocked that ol' green bin down, you ask?

Probably raccoons.  Maybe a bear.  Or quite possibly - and, in fact, most likely - ALIENS.

Those little green fellers get up to all sorts of trouble when you leave 'em unsupervised.

Fact.

MOUSES!

 

dig it and they will come

Build it and they will come.

I think that's what they said.

Well it was somethin' like that, for sure.  Of course, they weren't talking 'bout Peepers.  Nope, they weren't talking 'bout anythin' Peepers built, for sure.

'Less, of course, they were talking 'bout rescuers comin' to rescue whomever was trapped in whatever the peep built, 'CAUSE ANYTHIN' PEEPERS BUILDS is bound to be a disaster waitin' to happen, for sure. 

Woman doesn't know a screw from a nail.

MOUSES!

Now, I wonder if anyone has ever said the followin': dig it and they will come.

Anyone know?

MOUSES!

Turns out, someone does know.  I know.  Yup, I know the answer, for sure.  Of course, I know the answer to lots of questions and things.  Pretty much practically EVERYTHIN'.

And if I don't know, I just make it up.

MOUSES!

And by the way, the answer is yes.  Yes, someone has said, dig it and they will come.  In fact, I said it earlier today.  Said it yesterday, too.  And do you know somethin' else, my friends?  Do you?

IT'S TRUE!  Yup, the sayin' is absolutely, one hundred and fifty-three percent true.

Give or take a percentage point, or two.

MOUSES!

So on account of my sayin' the sayin' and bein' correct about it and all, Peepers now has an eight foot long mini-greenhouse frame sittin' in her flower bed, two packages of aluminium foil plates - made from recycled aluminium, of course, 'cause Peepers loves the planet and everythin'  - in the kitchen waitin' to be used, a big ol' pile of twigs and things next to the garden bed with the mini-greenhouse frame, and she is currently pickin' hot chilli peppers she plans to chop up later and scatter all over said bed.  And then...

Pardon me?  Pardon?  Why is she doin' all that, you ask?

Well...

Well on account of my bein' right, of course.

Like I always am.

MOUSES!

Dig it, and they will come, I said.  Yup, dig it and they will come.  A peep digs a garden bed up, exposin' nice soil, gettin' the bed ready for some fall plantin', and...

AND THEY COME.

I'm tellin' ya, ol' Noah was never in it.

MOUSES!

Who are they, you ask?

Well...

Well allow me to elaborate, my friends.  The eight foot long mini-greenhouse frame is to stop the deer from tramplin' the plants Peepers is plantin', like they did to Peepers' icelandic poppies last year.  Then she's gonna hang those pie plates from the top of the frame to discourage 'em from reachin' in and eatin' the plants like they ate all but three of her roses this year.  And once the plants are in the ground, she's gonna stick twigs and things in between all the rows before scatterin' those chopped up chilli peppers on the soil to discourage the raccoons from diggin' everythin' up, like they've been doin' ALL year, even now, before anythin' has been planted.

'CAUSE LIKE I SAID...

DIG IT AND THEY WILL COME.

MOUSES!

Excuse me?  Didn't quite catch what you said.

No...  No.  Nope, none of these measures are on account of Saffy and me.

We've already had our fill of diggin' up Peepers' plantings, you see.  Why, we've been diggin' up her stuff all summer long and are gettin' a tad bored with the whole thing.

Plus, compost is awfully hard to get out from under one's claws.

So Saffy and me...  We made a deal.  Yup, we made a deal with the peep.

Deal...  Accepted a bribe...  Whatever.

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.

it wasn't me

It wasn't me, Peepers.  It wasn't me!

No, seriously, it wasn't me.  I didn't even think of doin' anythi....

Okay, so maybe I did.  MAYBE I did THINK 'bout doin' what you're accusin' me of doin'.  But thinking 'bout doin' somethin' and actually doin' that same somethin' are TWO TOTALLY DIFFERENT things.  TOTALLY!

Different, I mean.

It wasn't me!

STOP LOOKIN' AT ME LIKE THAT, PEEPERS.  Stop lookin' at me with that accusatory kinda look.  I swear on all my nine lives, it really and truly wasn't me.

And to tell you the truth, I don't think it was Saffy, either.

Why?

Well...

Well firstly, I'm pretty sure had Saffron done somethin' that bad, he would have told me all about it.

Darn cat likes to brag, you see.

MOUSES!

But the real reason I don't think Saffy did it is that he, like me, lacks the opposable kinda thumbs.

MOUSES!

What?

Well...

Well you see, Peepers, in order to pick up plants in their plant pots and move 'em about on the deck without knocking 'em over and messing 'em up, I'm pretty sure one needs the manipulative dexterity of opposable thumbs.  Saffy and I don't have those, you see.  And although we COULD, possibly, put our front paws together and wrap 'em 'round the pots to lift 'em and move 'em and stuff, that would be pretty darned hard.

Not that we're incapable of doin' hard stuff, mind you, but doin' hard stuff requires a lot of effort and if you're gonna put that much effort into somethin', it's best to do somethin' that's gonna get you treats or nip or whatever, as a reward.

MOUSES!

So Peepers, I'm pretty sure what you're lookin' for is a peep.

MOUSES!

That's what I said, Peepers.  That's what I said.  I'm bettin' some peep is the culprit at paw...  I mean, HAND.  Yup, I'm bettin' some peep has been sneakin' into our backyard and pickin' potted pepper plants up out of their trays and moving 'em about.  Moving 'em over a few inches here and a foot or two there.  Moving 'em just about everywhere!

Of course, it's very good off this peep - whomever he or she is - to keep the plants upright and stuff and not damage 'em at all.  Goodness knows what kinda screamin' Saffy and I would have to put up with if they had damaged your plants.  We're havin' to put up with a lotta foul language as it is.

Never heard a peep yell MOUSES! so much in all my nine lives.

MOUSES!

But bein' good not to damage the plants aside, it IS rather disturbin' to think some stranger peep is lurkin' about, uninvited, in my backyard.  Remember last summer when we had that issue of that neighbourhood peep snoopin' and wanderin' about in our driveway all the time?  Think it could be him?

Yeah, you're right.  I haven't seen him here in a while; and thank goodness for that.

Personally, I think Peepers scared him off that day she went out with her hair especially messed up.

MOUSES!

Peepers, we appear to have a real mystery on our paws, to be sure.

But on the other paw...

On the other paw, go take a gander out the back door, would ya?  Peepers, do you see what I'm seein' out there?

Yup, yup...

Uh-huh, uh-huh...

Well I was right 'bout the need of opposable thumbs.

But then I, Seville the Cat, am ALWAYS right, to be sure.

Apparently, it's not just peeps who have those kinda thumbs.   Turns out, raccoons have 'em, too!  And I would never have believed it had I not seen it with my own eyes, but an opposable thumb weildin' raccoon is able to lift a potted pepper plant right outta its tray, set it aside, and drink the water left behind.

Who knew?

MOUSES!

You better watch out there, Peepers.  Main reason Saffy and I keep you around is those opposable thumbs of yours, and your ability to use 'em to open tins.  Turns out, we could always replace you with a raccoon.

MOUSES!

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

And remember:

IF IN DOUBT,

DON'T. GO. OUT.

Continue to practice SOCIAL DISTANCIN' measures

AND KEEP WASHIN' YOUR PAWS.

MOUSES!

foul mood

Of all the nerve...

OF ALL THE NERVE...

My gosh that peep is rude.

MOUSES!

I know, I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin', some peep has been rude to MY peep.  And you know what?

You would be wrong.

MOUSES!

While it's true that some peep MIGHT have been rude to my peep, I try not to concern myself with such mundane matters.  Peepers has gotta learn to stand up for herself, you see, and what better way for her to stand up for herself than to stand up to peeps who would be rude?

MOUSES!

No, rude peeps are only of a concern to me when they're bein' rude to me and the fact of the matter is, MY peep was incredibly rude to me early this mornin'.  She was rude to Saffy, too, but you know... Stuff happens.

MOUSES!

So how was ol' Peepers rude to Saffron and me, you ask?

Well...

Well she wasn't so much rude as she was...

Nope, she was rude.

MOUSES!

Okay, so I'll tell you what happened.  I asked Peepers a question and she up and left the room.

Can you believe it?

MOUSES!

Okay, so TECHNICALLY she was actually already on her way outside when I was askin' her the question, and it is quite possible she didn't hear me ask it, but still...

RUDE.

MOUSES!

The real problem is, Peepers was in a foul mood this mornin'.  Foul as foul can be.  Foul as a hen house full of chickens, she was.

MOUSES!

So apparently...

Apparently we had a visitor last night.  Maybe two.  Maybe three!  And you know what?  You know what those visitors did?

Well they didn't bring me prezzies and THAT is rude, too.

MOUSES!

And not only did they not bring me, Seville the Cat, a prezzie, they left behind a right ol' mess.  The bird feeder hangin' from the veranda was down on the ground; empty of all its seed AND, turns out, the metal cord thingy from which it hangs has been broken beyond repair.

Yeah, when Peepers re-filled the knocked down feeder only to discover it couldn't be hung up again, she stomped off in ANOTHER rage, for sure.

And the metal stand thingy with all the hooks, the one in the middle of the front lawn, was also knocked down; but Peepers managed to get it back up, even though one of the prong leg thingies was all bent out of shape.

That made her foulness all the more foul, if you can believe she could get even fouler.

Oh, and the two acorn feeders hangin' from said metal stand thingy with all the hooks?  The two acorns that are Peepers' very favourite bird-feeders of all time on account of their bein' so cute?

Well...

Well...

Well one she found halfway across the lawn.

MOUSES!

And the other one...

The other one...

THE OTHER ONE...

THE OTHER ONE looks like it was trampled by a stampede, is completely bent out of shape - like Peepers, herself, I believe - and is totally, utterly, unreservedly unusable and unfillable, not to mention useless, to be sure.

Yup, the thing is as flat as a pancake, she said.

MOUSES!

And just who were these visitors, you ask?  And ask you might, on account of my havin' asked the very same question, although an answer I did not get.

Yeah, that was about the time Peepers so rudely stomped outta the house.

MOUSES!

Well my first guess was a neighbour.  Some of 'em have found out they appear in my book - YES, I am still workin' on that - and are none-too-pleased 'bout the fact, you see.

But then I thought, why would a neighbour wanna give me EVEN MORE fodder for my book?  That would be stupid beyond belief.

So then I thought perhaps it was an alien workin' on crop circles who took a wrong turn.

But that made no sense once I rethunk it.

Rethunk...

MOUSES!

Then rocky raccoons came to mind.  They've had their eyes on those bird feeders for a while now.  But could a raccoon, even a chubby one, squish a metal acorn feeder like that?

Probably not.

So now I'm wonderin'...

NOW I'M WONDERIN'...

NOW I'M WONDERIN' if it was that big ol' bear some peeps have seen wanderin' about.  Could that bear have been visitin' my house late last night?

And if so, WHY THE MOUSES DIDN'T HE BRING ME PREZZIES?  ARE BEARS NOT TAUGHT PROPER ETIQUETTE WHEN THEY'RE YOUNG?

Who the mouses goes to dinner at someone's house without bringin' a gift for the host!

Of all the nerve.

A little bottle of nip wine would have been nice.

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.

not fair

 

It's not fair, I tell you.  IT'S NOT FAIR!

Did you hear me there, Peepers?  DID YOU HEAR ME?  Were your ancient, old-as-the-hills-and-various-extinct-species-of-dinosaur ears capable of hearin' what I said?

IT'S NOT FAIR!

Awww...   MOUSES!

It's a BEAUTIFUL day out there...

Okay, so it's a little dreary and the ground is still wet from last night's rain and the weatherpeeps are sayin' we might have boomies this afternoon, but...

BUT RIGHT NOW, THE SUN IS SHININ' ON AND OFF AND THE TEMPERATURE IS SUPER DUPER MILD AND...

And that, my friends, is a beautiful day.

'Specially for October in Canada.

MOUSES!

But you know what?

Well I'll tell you what's what.  I'll tell you what's what right now.

I, SEVILLE THE CAT, CAN'T GO OUTSIDE.

MOUSES!

And WHY?

Good question.  In fact, I asked ol' Peepers that very same question, myself, a few minutes ago but her OLD-AS-THE-HILLS EARS had selective hearin' and I got NOTHIN' but grief for my troubles.

She says...

Get this - 

There are rockies in the backyard.

MOUSES!

Rockies.  In MY yard.  Interruptin' my beautiful day.

MOUSES!

But...  But...  But...  But what's a couple rocky raccoons?  We have a big backyard.  I know how to share!

What's more, I KNOW to stay away from 'em.  Just 'cause peeps don't know how to keep their distance from others doesn't mean we cats don't.

MOUSES!

They're just lookin' for snacks, Peepers.  They're bulkin' up for winter and tryin' to eat as much as they can.

You know, like you, when...

WHAT?  What did I say?  Don't blame ME for tellin' the truth.  I saw that bag of potato chips.

And FYI, Peepers, Family Size means for a FAMILY.  A family of more than one.

MOUSES!

And it's not like raccoons and cats are natural born enemies, anyway.  We have an agreement, you see.  We each keep to our own, and don't bother one another one bit.

WE KNOW HOW TO SOCIAL DISTANCE.

Peeps could take a lesson from that.

MOUSES!

AND...

AND MAYBE...

MAYBE those rockies are wantin' some of your chips.

EVER THINK ABOUT THAT?

There, that's settled then.  Peepers, you go give that rocky family your FAMILY SIZED bag of chips, and while they're busy munchin' on those I can go outside and enjoy my beautiful day.

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.

how could you

How could you.

It wasn't a question.  More of an accusation, actually.

HOW COULD YOU.

I glared at the peep.  She looked kinda...  Um...  Stupid?  Yeah, that's the word I'm lookin' for.  Stupid.

HOW COULD YOU?

"I didn't do it on purpose, Seville.  I'm sorry."

Peepers, HOW COULD YOU.  MOUSES!

The peep shrugged.

THEY WERE IN MY HOUSE AND EVERYTHIN'.  MOUSES!

"I told you, I didn't do it on purpose."

Two of them.  TWO OF THEM!  There were two of them IN MY HOUSE and everythin'.

"Well I wasn't very happy about the situation either, Seville.  I..."

THEN YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE LET 'EM INSIDE!  Boy-oh-boy Peepers, you've done some pretty stupid stuff in your lifetime, but this time... THIS time you've exceeded all expectations of stupidity and...  AND WON YOURSELF THE MOST STUPID PEEP ON EARTH TROPHY, for...  For you know, bein' the most stupid peep on Earth, and...

And...

AND...

AND THEY WERE IN MY HOUSE AND EVERYTHIN'.

TWO OF THEM!

MOUSES!

The Peep sighed.  I thought I detected a note of frustration in that sigh, but decided to ignore it on account of her not havin' any right to be frustrated.  IF ANYONE had a right to be frustrated, it was me.  Not her.  Me.  Me, Seville the Cat.  ME.  MOUSES!

"Seville, I..."

DID YOU NOT HEAR WHEN I SAID THERE WERE TWO OF THEM IN MY HOUSE AND EVERYTHIN'?

And there she goes again with the sighin'.

"Seville, I didn't do it on purpose.  I didn't invite them inside.  I didn't even know they were inside until they started making a ruckus in the sunroom, and I went to see what was going on, and.."

And about that, Peepers.  The ruckus, I mean.  Do you have any idea what those two were doin' in the sunroom whilst makin' that ruckus of theirs?  THEY WERE DESTROYING MY INSIDE NIP PLANT, THAT'S WHAT.  They climbed up in the pot and must have been sittin' on it, and squishin' it, and flattening it down, and...

"I think they were trying to get up to the open window.  They were looking for a way back outside.

WELL THEY WOULDN'T HAVE NEEDED A WAY OUT IF YOU HADN'T GONE AND LET 'EM INSIDE IN THE FIRST PLACE.  MOUSES!

"I told you, I didn't let them in.  I left the back door open when I was in the garden picking a bouquet of sweet peas, and it was already getting dark.   I think they must have noticed the open door and, being curious, come inside."  The peep held up a paw...  I mean, hand.  "ALL ON THEIR OWN."

Well they didn't walk through a wall, Peepers.  They didn't walk through a closed door, either.  They waltzed in through an open door.  A WIDE, OPEN DOOR.  An open door CARELESSLY LEFT OPEN BY YOU.  MOUSES!

"I did manage to get them back outside."

Don't go lookin' for brownie points for that, Peepers.  Gettin' them back out was your responsibility, and only yours, on account of YOU letting 'em inside in the first place.  They...

What, again with the sighs?  MOUSES!

"I said I was sorry.  I meant it.  I..."

Peepers, there isn't enough sorry in the world for you to make this up to me.  YOU. LET. TWO BABY ROCKY RACCOONS. INTO MY HOUSE. LAST NIGHT.  TWO!  One would have been bad enough, but two?  MOUSES!

"It wasn't my fault.  I didn't do it on purpose.  In fact, I didn't do anything at all!  They came in all on their own WITHOUT any kind of invitation from me, and once I knew they were inside, I got them back out."

I scrunched up my nose makin' my whiskers go all quivery, turned on my tail, and headed out of the room.

But as I was leavin', I said...

Just so you know, Peepers, sometime in the next forty-eight hours I'm gonna hork up a hairball, pull some threads out of a chair, and poop in one of your shoes - although not necessarily in that order - and when you find my trail of death and destruction, know it's your punishment for lettin' those two baby rockies into MY house and...

And...

AND...

HOW COULD YOU.

MOUSES!

don't cry over spilt milk

Peepers.

Peepers?

PEEPERS!

Oh hi there peeps.  I was just wonderin' why you were so upset.

You're not all that upset, you say?  You're only a little bit upset?  Well how little is a little?  Is it a whole lot less or just a little bit less, than all that?

Hmmm...

So you mean, you're upset like I was upset, when I discovered my very favourite nip mouse in the whole wide world had been slobbered on by some cat other than myself, but then realized my second favourite nip mouse in the whole wide world was still slobber-free.

HMMM...

Well that means you're pretty moused-up upset, Peepers, but not in a completely inconsolable way. MOUSES!

Anyway, you haven't answered my question.  How come you were upset in the first place?

Oh.  Oh yeah.  I knew all about that.

Oh sure!  I saw it happenin'.  I was on the window ledge watchin' when it did.

Well they enjoyed 'em, for sure.

They did!  Honestly.  In fact, I'd say they enjoyed 'em as much, if not more, than you were gonna enjoy 'em, so...

Peepers, didn't anyone ever tell you not to cry over spilt milk?  It's unbecomin' of a peep.  Now spilt cream?  Spilt cream is a TOTALLY different matter, for sure.  And spilt NIP?  Oh my mouses.  Spilt nip is the worst kind of spillage you can have.  Why, spilt nip is the spillage of all spillages. Spilt nip is...

Just goes to show you, every cloud has a silver linin'.

What?  Oh.  Sorry 'bout that.  I kinda forgot to say out loud what I was thinkin'.  That's why you're so confused.  THIS time.  There's no accountin' for your bein' confused ALL the times you're confused. You do tend to be a super confused peep.

Fine, I'll explain.  I was just thinkin' to myself, NOTHIN' is as serious as spilt nip, and spilt nip is not what you have.  Now spilt cream does come in in second place, albeit a pretty distant second place at that.  But even if you had spilt some cream, there would still be no need for you to cry over it on account of your not needin' the cream anymore anyway, on account of your no longer havin' any strawberries to eat with that cream.

Don't be so hard on yourself, Peepers.  It's very difficult for peeps to keep up with my thought processes.  What can I say?  My mind works in mysterious ways and it ALWAYS works at top speed, for sure.  Sometimes you might think my mind is runnin' amok but really, it's just that I'm thinkin' so quickly, you can't possibly keep up.  I mean, you're just a peep.  Sometimes I can't keep up with it myself!  MOUSES!

Oh yeah, I did say that, didn't I.  I did mention my bearin' witness to the events of last night.

Well...  Well the thing is, I was up on the windowsill, enjoyin' a nice cool evenin' breeze, when I saw a couple of rockies hangin' out by those strawberry plants of yours.  And I have to tell you Peepers, they were really excited when they discovered the berries were ripe.  I guess ripe strawberries are pretty tasty IF you like that sort of thing.  Personally, they're not somethin' I would eat, but to each his own.

Why didn't I say anythin' at the time, you ask?

Well...  Well I figured you already knew.

Yeah.  Why wouldn't you?  I mean, it's not like somebody else put those pots of strawberries right there.  Right there on the ground, where the neighbourhood marauding gang of rockies pass every night.  You must have known they'd find 'em there.  In fact, some might even think you left 'em there on purpose.  You know, left 'em there for them to be found.  I just figured that was your plan all along and...

Peepers.

Peepers?

PEEPERS!

You know, you can deny it all you like, but I think you're more upset 'bout these strawberries than you're admittin' and...

Peepers, now that I think about it, it would be really thoughtful of you if the next time you have some strawberries ready for those rockies, you would leave out a little cream.  I'm pretty sure they'd really enjoy some strawberries and cream, and in order to have strawberries and cream, you kinda need to have the cream.  Without the cream, strawberries and cream are just...  You know...  Strawberries.

MOUSES!

horror of all horrors

"WHA???"

I spun on my tail, three or four times, like a revolvin' door doin' some major high-speed revolvin'.  Finally my spinning slowed, and eventually I came to a full stop, landin' on my tummy with all paws spread eagle.

Slowly climbin' to my paws, I asked in somewhat of a daze, "Who?  Why? WHA???"

Of course, nobody answered.  MOUSES!

Comin' to my senses, I gave my head a good shake.

"Tess!  You have some explainin' to do. MOUSES!"

Tess peered around the kitchen corner.  "Is it gone?" she asked.

I very casually brushed an imaginary piece of lint off my leg.  "Is what gone, pray tell. YOUR MIND?"

Tess scowled like only a Tess can do.

Then that's when I heard it.  Heard what Tess had heard before.  The squealing.  The whining.  The grating, nerve-wracking sound of a monstrous monster in my very own backyard.

Within moments, Tess and I both tore upstairs in terror.  One could only imagine what ungodly horror was being unleashed outside.

Skiddin' to a stop at the top of the stairs, I slapped my forehead with one paw, and grabbed Tess by the tail with the other.  "Tess, that was Oil Delivery Guy.  He always makes that sound."

Tess' eyes grew wide.  "Oil Delivery Guy is a monster?" she asked.  "Why would the peeps buy oil from monsters?"

"Um, no.  I'm pretty sure he's just some regular ol' guy.  Those are the noises the oil makes as it runs through the hose and into the tank."

Tess thought about this for a moment.  I could see the wheels turning.  She opened her mouth as if to ask a question and then, thinkin' better of it -  I guess, clamped both lips together, and simply sighed.

Tess and I trotted back downstairs to the kitchen.  I could still hear Oil Delivery Guy outside, but now that I knew what the noises were, I was no longer petrified.

I guess Tess was no longer scared, either, 'cause she headed over to a bowl of dry kibble for a snack.

"Hey Tess," I began.  "How come Oil Delivery Guy scared you like that?"

"Because he's scary?" she replied, with a lilt to her voice.

"Yeah, but..."

Tess looked at me expectantly, waitin' for me to finish.

"But Tess, I've seen you stare down a rocky.  A cat who can face a rocky can certainly face Oil Delivery Guy."

And it was true.  The part about the rocky, I mean, 'cause just the other night, some stupid peep...

And when I say some stupid peep, you can pretty much take your pick.  My money is on Peep #2 but the truth is, neither one of 'em is the sharpest crayon in the pack.  Not even if the pack is mostly empty 'cept for one.

Anyway, as I was sayin'...  The other evening, some stupid peep left the outside door to the sunroom open, and when Peep #2 found it ajar, there was a rocky raccoon sittin' on the steps, lookin' inside.  That's right, lookin' into the sunroom.  Lookin' into my house, and everythin'. MOUSES!

Now you're probably wonderin' what this has to do with Tess.

Well I'll TELL you what it has to do with my sister Tess.

There was the raccoon, sittin' there, lookin' inside.  But even though I'm pretty sure he was thinkin' about coming in, he couldn't come any further.  And the reason he couldn't come any further was that sittin' just inside the door, was my sister Tess.  And she was in fine form, for sure,  hissin' and spittin' and givin' that rocky what for.

Now I'll be honest with you, all my fur-sibs and I have had plenty of rocky encounters.  Usually we just watch 'em, and they watch us, too.  Sometimes they ignore us, which is kinda rude, but you know...  Whatever.  But I've always found that if we respect them, they respect us right back, 'cept for the ignornin' part which, as I said, is kinda rude.

But that's outdoors.

No way, no how, are rocky raccoons ever allowed inside.  It's the law.  MOUSES!

And that's just what Tess was explainin' to the one sittin' at my back door.

I don't know if he understood the fine details or not, but he was gettin' Tess' general message, for sure.  MOUSES!

Tess mulled over my point about her facin' down the rocky for a bit before replying, "Rockies are different.  Rockies don't do that high-pitched squeal like Oil Delivery Guy.  Also, rockies aren't monsters.  They're just rockies.  You know?"

And truth be told, I did know.  For a rocky is a rocky, and Oil Delivery Guy...  ISN'T.

Then at that very moment, we heard it.  Breaking the silencce was the unmistakable roar of a giant, multiple-headed, snake-like tube-sucking monster, emanating from the family room.

"RUN!" Tess and I screamed in unison as we tore out of the kitchen and once again, up the stairs.  Diving under a bed, I clasped my paws over my ears, not wanting to hear the horror of all horrifying horrors, happenin' downstairs.

"Seville," Tess whispered, tuggin' on my tail.  "I think it's just the vacuum.  It's probably safe to go back down."

I stared at my sister with both amazement and awe. Tess wasn't afraid of a rocky, nor of a vacuum, either. When I wasn't watchin', my sister had become some kind of ninja warrior muted calico amazon princess.  She was SUPERCAT, with only Oil Delivery Guy as her Kryptonite.

MOUSES!

missing

"Hey!  HEY!!  HEY!!! What the mousie mousin' mouses do you think you're doin'?"

Seein' what I was seein', I jumped down from the bathroom window onto the sunroom roof, and from there, down onto the deck railing.  Minutes later I was MARCHING across the backyard, toward that ol' nosey neighbourin' cat, AKA Nosey-Neighbour-Cat.  MOUSES!

"Hey you.  Yeah, YOU. Yeah, I'm talkin' to YOU!" and I glared at Nosey-Neighbour-Cat.  "Just what the mouses do you think you're doin', followin' my peep around like a little lost doggy?  If ANYONE is gonna be followin' my first peep 'round like a little lost doggy, it's gonna be ME."

I stopped in my tracks and thought for a mo.  "Hmmm...  Not that I wanna be behavin' like a little lost doggy.  After all, a little lost doggy, I am not."  And so I turned back to NNC and said, "Nosey-Neighbour-Cat?  Continue as you were.  MOUSES!"

"What?  WHAT?  What's that you're sayin'?" and I waited for ol' NNC to explain further.

After hearin' that nosey neighbourin' cat's explanation I told him, "Yeah well, I might be concerned 'bout the peep's weird behaviour.  I MIGHT, 'cept for the fact that weird behaviour comes second nature to my peep."

"What?  WHAT?  What do I mean?  I mean, Peep #1 is kinda weird.  She's known worldwide for her weirdness, for sure.  Why just the other day..."

"What's that Peepers?  FINE.  MOUSES!"

"NNC, I'll tell you all 'bout the peep's weird behaviour some other time.  Some other time when the peep isn't listenin'.

"But for now, back to this business of you followin' my peep 'round my backyard, like a little doggy.  Nosey-Neighbour-Cat, why were you doin' that?"

"I see...  You say you were followin' Peep #1 around on account of her WANDERIN' around.  Her wanderin' about the backyard in a state of confusion."

"Like I said before, this kind of behaviour is really nothin' new.  Peep #1 is often confused.  Take my advice and just ignore her."

"What's that Peepers?  You say somethin' is missin'?  Somethin' like...  LIKE YOUR MIND?" and I fell to the ground and rolled onto my back in a fit of laughter.

Then under my breath, I hissed to Nosey-Neighbour-Cat, "So is that why you were followin' Peep #1 'round like a little lost doggy?  You were helpin' her to find her lost mind?  Personally, if I were you, I'd give up on that goal.  Her mind has been lost for quite some time now, and I doubt anyone will be findin' it anytime soon."

"What's that Peepers?  FINE.  MOUSES!"

"So anyway Peepers...  When exactly did you notice your mind was missin'?"

"FINE.  MOUSES!"

"So Peepers, when exactly did you notice whatever it was that you're missin', was missin'?"

"You don't say."

"MOUSES!"

"So Peepers, are you sure?  Are you sure 'bout this?  Are you sure like in...  FOR SURE?"

"Just checkin'."

BREAKIN' NEWS...  NEWLY PLANTED AZALEA BUSH HAS GONE MISSIN'.  MOUSES!

"Peepers, now can you describe said azalea bush?  Did it have any distinguishing features?  Did it have a scar, perhaps?  Or a mole?"

"No, not a brown furry runnin' about and diggin' holes kinda mole.  And not a secret spy mole, either.  I mean a mole!  You know, like in a distinguishing feature.  Don't you ever watch crime shows on TV? MOUSES!"

"So no scars and no moles.  No rodent or spy type moles, either.  Hmmm...."

"And you're absolutely positive you planted that there azalea bush in that there flower bed, yesterday? You're absolutely sure?  I'm only asking 'cause you didn't really answer my question the first time I asked.  Not really in an absolutely positively for sure kind of answerin' way."

"So let me get this straight.  Yesterday afternoon you planted one, two-foot high azalea bush, with no scars, moles, or any other distinguishing features, in that there flower bed in that there corner of the backyard.  And this mornin', there's no trace of any azalea bush to be found.  Interestin'.  Very, very interestin', for sure.  Hmmm..."

"And you've looked everywhere?  You say that's what you were doin' when Nosey-Neighbour-Cat was followin' you around?  Hmmm..."

"Did you look in the garage or out on the driveway?  I'm only asking 'cause...  Well...  Well truth be told, I'm lookin' at the spot where you said you planted the azalea bush and there isn't a trace of it to be found."

"Well I KNOW you said it was missin'.  I KNOW you said it couldn't be found.  But seriously Peepers, you're sure you planted it yesterday?  'Cause not only is there no trace of the azalea, but there's no trace of your havin' planted it, either.  There's no trace of a hole havin' been dug or anythin' like that.  It looks like the spot hasn't been touched at all.  It looks..."

"Okay, okay.  You don't have to yell.  MOUSES!"

"You think maybe someone is gaslighting you, Peepers?  You know, tryin' to make you think you're goin' crazy?  Tryin' to make you think you're losin' you mind?  'Cause if that's the case, they probably won't have to try all that hard."

"WAIT A MINUTE."

"Look Peepers.  Look over there!  Look over there by the brush pile.  You know, the brush pile 'bout fifteen feet away."

"Well I'll be...  IT'S YOUR AZALEA BUSH.  MOUSES!"

"So there WAS an azalea bush after all.  Will wonders never cease.  If I were a bettin' cat, I would have bet there had never been any azalea bush, and that you were nothin' more than a half-crazed peep, for sure."

"Now see!  That.  That there look you have on your face.   Yeah, that's the one.  That look you're doin' right now.  That's the kind of look that make cats believe you're half-crazed, for sure."

"But back to the once missin', but now found, azalea.  Clearly, after you planted it yesterday, someone came along and ripped it out of the ground, then filled in the hole, leavin' no trace of it ever havin' been there at all.  Then they either dragged it, or flung it, over by the brush pile.  Hmmm..."

"Sounds pretty unbelievable to me.  Far easier to believe you're goin' nuts, Peepers.  Sorry, but facts are facts and the evidence is clearly there."

"GET A GRIP, WOMAN.  MOUSES!"

"Well...  I suppose a rocky raccoon could have yanked the azalea out of the ground and dragged it over there.  They've been known to dig things up before.  But why would a raccoon fill the plantin' hole back in?  That makes no sense to me."

"Or I guess a neighbour could be playin' a mean ol' prank or somethin', and yanked out the azalea before flinging it over there, then filled the plantin' hole back in to...  Nah, that makes even less sense, for sure."

"On the other paw...  Peepers, have you been doin' stuff to annoy the neighbours?"

I sat back on my haunches and had a long think.

"Okay Peepers, I've thought and I've thought and I've thought, and I'm pretty sure, I've now thought it all out, and..."

"...AND I'm goin' with my original idea. CLEARLY, YOU'RE LOSIN' YOUR MIND.  MOUSES!"

"See?  SEE?  There's that half-crazed look again.  It's all over your face. What am I sayin'.  There's nothin' half-crazed about it.  That look is FULL-crazed, for sure.  It's as full as a full moon on a night with a fully full moon and..."

"What's that Peepers?  FINE.  MOUSES!"

stole Christmas in July!

Well folks, it's lookin' like the Grinch went and stole Christmas.  Christmas in July, that is.  MOUSES!

A couple of weeks ago, I was out and about, padding around on the deck, checkin' that everything was in order and whatnot when I happened to notice that there was a flower bud on the peep's amaryllis.  Of course, my first thought was that Seville had been messin' about with whisks and had somehow screwed up somethin' in the space-time continuum...  AGAIN. MOUSES!

I mean...  Everyone knows that amaryllis bloom at Christmas.  Don't they?

I immediately went inside to tell the peep about her plant bein' all messed up but she told me that I shouldn't blame my brother on account of his not havin' done anything to the space-time continuum...  THIS TIME.  She said that the amaryllis peeps buy at Christmas are forced to bloom for the holidays and that under normal circumstances, that's not their usual bloomin' time. Interestin'...

Ol' Peepers went on to explain that she had grown these particular amaryllis from seed and this was gonna be what's called, their first bloom.  She was super excited.

To tell you the truth, I was really excited, too.  I was pretty sure that the flowers would still be bloomin' in July and that with the peep bein' so happy 'bout them blooming and all, we'd be able to celebrate in style.  Perhaps we could celebrate Christmas in July.  That would be fun and I've never done that before.  It would be especially fun if there were nip mice to be had.  I mean, what's Christmas without a new nip mouse?  You know?

So I started plannin' the celebrations.  I figured we'd keep things small and fairly low-key.  Just the fur-family, the peeps, the amaryllis and the nip mice.  Even though it was gonna be a small event, it would still be special on account of the nip mice.  I mean...  amaryllis.  MOUSES!

Then disaster struck.  All my celebratory plans came to a screeching halt on Friday mornin' when Peep #1 discovered that someone had gone and gone all berserk and bent the amaryllis' flower stalk all out of shape and chewed up its flowers, generally makin' a right ol' mess of the whole thing.  Made a mess of my plans for more nip mice, too.  Again I say...  MOUSES!

I know what you're thinkin'.  You thinkin' that one of us cats chewed up the amaryllis but truth be told, none of like amaryllis.  No, the damage done to the amaryllis - not to mention my plans for new nip mice in July -  was done by that marauding gang of rocky raccoons.  It's the season for babies, you see, and baby rockies get into EVERYTHING!  They must have thought the peep's pot of amaryllis was a jungle gym or somethin'.

As you can imagine, I was pretty distraught.  I was all set on celebratin' Christmas in July when all my hopes and dreams had been dashed.  But then I realised that even though there were no amaryllis blooms left for this year, there would always be next year and maybe I could convince the peep that a celebration was still in order.  Maybe there was hope for a nip mouse or two after all!

Then this mornin' arrived.  I think it's pretty safe to say that after this mornin', there will be no Christmas in July for me, this year.  No new nip mice.  No nothin'.

THE GRINCH STOLE CHRISTMAS IN JULY.

I went outside onto the deck this mornin' and saw the unthinkable.  The un...  the unseeable.   The un...  the un... the undoable!

That maraudin' gang of rockies had been back and this time, they were after the peep's plumies.  That's right.  They manhandled and rockypawed Peep #1's Plumeria seedlings.  A couple were out of their pots, lyin' there on the deck, roots exposed to the heavens.  She was able to save those ones.  The largest of her seedlings was kind of askew and she says she's gonna re-pot it tonight and that it should be okay.  But the best-lookin' Tahitian Sunset seedling was...  was...  it was...

IT WAS SNAPPED IN TWO LIKE A TOOTHPICK.  MOUSES!

I don't think that that baby Plumeria is ever gonna recover.  I think it's lost, for sure.  Peep #1 was super sad about that 'cause she had fallen in love with the name, Tahitian Sunset, and loved the idea of havin' a plumie bred from a plant with such a pretty name.  She's really upset, folks.  REALLY upset, for sure.

But I have a plan!  In order to cheer Ol' Peepers up, I'm gettin' ready to search the planet for some more Plumeria seeds for her.  I'll do some searchin' on the Internet, lookin' for ones with pretty names and whatnot or maybe with white flowers and strong scents 'cause I know she loves those.

And if the if my Internet search fails, I'll just have to teleport to wherever peeps might have a tree or two growin' in their gardens.  Either way, I'll find the peep some more seeds, soon.

Oohhh...  I just thought of somethin'.  If I can find the seed soon enough, I might still be able to pull off Christmas in July.  YES!  Might just get myself some new nip mice, after all.  NICE.