legalisation

"Hey Peepers!" I cried.  "What's keepin' ya?  Why aren't you ready yet?  COME ON...  We've gotta get a move on.  We've gotta go, and WE'VE GOTTA GO, NOW.  We've gotta get to the nip store before they run out of the nip.  I'm bettin' the line-ups are gonna be like crazy-whackadoodle, wouldn't-wanna-be-a-poodle, for sure.  MOUSES!"

I looked at my watch.

Scratch that.  I WOULD have looked at my watch had I been wearin' one, but as a cat, I've never worn a watch in my life.  So I looked up at the clock on the wall, instead.

"PEEPERS!  COME ON!!!  We've gotta get to the nip store, NOW.  MOUSES!"

I sat back on my haunches to wait, impatiently tappin' a paw on the floor.  Boy-oh-boy, that ol' peep of mine sure does take a long time to get herself ready.  MOUSES!

FINALLY, the peep appeared.  "You goin' out dressed like THAT?" I asked her.

She gave me one of her looks.

"Suit yourself, Peepers, but that's not a look I'D appear in, out in public.  In fact, I'm thinkin' a cat like me might be embarrassed just bein' seen in public with someone lookin' like that.  Hmmm...  You think I could borrow a disguise or somethin'?  You know, so the other cats won't recognise me while we're standin' together in line.  You got any cat-sized dark glasses and fake whiskers on paw?"

And then ANOTHER look from the peep was directed my way.

"FINE.  But don't blame me if I tell people you're not with me.  In fact...  You know, if I had a t-shirt or somethin' to wear, I could write NOT WITH HER on my back.  You think you might have a t-shirt for me, as well as those dark glasses and fake whiskers I asked for earlier, and..."

This time, the peep's look was accompanied with a hands-on-the-hips kinda stance.  MOUSES!

"FINE!  But the least you can do is comb that hair of yours," I told her.  "That is, IF you can get a comb through that tangled, moused-up mess.  You look like you just woke up or somethin' after a late night at the nippin', and..."

"You DID?  You really did just wake up?  Just right now?  Right before you came downstairs?  MOUSES!  Do you not know what today is, Peepers?  Do you not know that today is the first day of there bein' legalised nip here in Canada?  Do you not realise that today is the first day we can go to the nip store and buy legal nip?  Do you not realise there will be line-ups from here to goodness-knows-where, and that's why we need to go, RIGHT NOW, and get into those line-ups as early as possible?  You know, so that we can get into the store BEFORE they RUN OUT of the nip.  MOUSES, WOMAN!  Don't you know anythin' at all?  Don't you..."

I stopped my tirade, rememberin' what the peep had said moments before.  Or at least, what she had NOT DISAGREED with, when I said it.

"Wait a minute there, Peepers..."

I thought 'bout the situation for a bit.

"Peepers, did you say, yes, when I asked you if you were up late last night, nippin'?  When I asked if you were up into the wee hours of the mornin', gettin' nipped?"

Then I thought about the situation some more...

"AND YOU DIDN'T THINK TO INVITE ME?"

And I thought about it even MORE...

"AND EXACTLY WHOSE NIP WERE YOU USIN' TO GET YOURSELF NIPPED?  WAS IT MINE?  WAS IT MY NIP IN WHICH YOU WERE IMBIBIN'?  MOUSES, WOMAN!  WHOSE NIP DID YOU STEAL?"

At that moment, my sister Mason walked into the room.  Without sayin' a word, she plunked the mornin' paper down at my feet.  I mean, paws.  MOUSES!

I read the headline and the first few lines of the story above the fold.

"Ohhh..  OHHH...  So you mean..."

Mason nodded.

"Well who the mouses cares 'bout legalised weeds?" I asked, indignantly.  "I know I sure don't.  I couldn't care less 'bout stuff like that.  I mean, weeds are weeds.  Weeds are the things you CHUCK OUT of the garden while tendin' the good stuff.  The GOOD stuff like my CATNIP crop.  I couldn't give a rat's pattootie 'bout this here cannabis junk.  Give me my catnip, and a bit of the valerian, and I'm as happy as a clam covered in a creamy nip sauce, but weeds?  MOUSES!"

The peep let out a loud sigh.

"Pfft.  And peeps are gonna be standin' in line for...  WEEDS?  For mousin' out loud.  Do peeps not have ANYTHIN' better to do?"

I looked up at the peep.

"Seriously, Peepers.  Don't you have anythin' better to do than standin' there, lookin' like that?  I mean, SERIOUSLY.  Even combin' out that hair of yours would be SOMETHIN' for you to do that would make better use of your time.  MOUSES!"

Again, the peep sighed.

Or maybe it was more of a yawn...

"Well, now that we've decided it's not legalised catnip they're sellin' at the human nip store, we don't have to go out after all.  BUT SINCE YOU'RE ALREADY UP...  How would you like to fix me my breakkies or somethin' like that?  Maybe served with some freshly-squeezed catnip juice, or..."

And with that, the peep spun on her heels before headin' back up to bed.

"Of all the nerve!" I cried, still standin' in the middle of the kitchen floor.  "Maybe it is only five in the mornin', but SHE WAS ALREADY UP.  She could have made me breakfast before goin' back to bed.  Or AT LEAST served up a snack.  Or..."

I heard the bedroom door slam from upstairs, and looked over at my sister.  "I'm tellin' ya, Mason, we live with THE RUDEST PEEP in the world.  I'm not sure if you noticed, or anythin', but she didn't even say good mornin', earlier, when she came downstairs.  Rude as all get out.  MOUSES!"

that feeling

You ever get that feelin'? You know the one.  That feelin' that someone is watchin' you.  Maybe even starin' at you. Yeah, that's the one.

Well I get that feelin' all the time.  And when I say all the time, I mean, ALL THE TIME.  Why just a couple days ago, my second nap of the afternoon was totally ruined when I sensed that someone was watchin' me.  Starin' at me.  Woke me right up, right there, and right then. MOUSES!

So I opened my eyes and what did I see?  Peep #1.  Figures.  MOUSES!

Yeah, Peep #1 thinks she's entitled to look at me as much as she likes.  She says she can't help it. She says it's my own fault.  She says it's my own fault for bein' so cute, you see.

Well let me tell you somethin':  I CAN'T HELP BEIN' CUTE!  It just comes to me naturally. MOUSES!

But the night before last, I got Peep #1 back.

Oh yeah.

So the peep was lyin' there, sound asleep, when somethin' got her to wake up.  I'm not quite sure what that somethin' was but it might - MIGHT - have had somethin' to do with a certain noise made by a certain marmalade cat.

Anyway...

So the peep was lyin' there, sound asleep.  Then she woke up.  And when she opened her eyes, what did she see?  She saw me.  MOUSES!

There I was, as good as gold...

And when I say I was as good as gold, I quite literally mean as good as gold, on account of my, firstly, bein' very good and secondly, my orange fur bein' golden orange in colour and uh...  um...

Now where was I?  Oh yeah.

Anyway...

So there I was, starin' at the peep.  Just starin' at her. Starin'!  Like she does to me.  MOUSES!

Well apparently, accordin' to the peep, wakin' up to find me starin' at her is unnerving.

NOW SHE KNOWS HOW I FEEL.  MOUSES!

I figure that if a cat can look at a queen, said cat can most certainly look at their peep.

Of course, the jury is still out on whether or not peeps may stare at their cats.

Actually, that's not true.  The jury came back on that one and they decided that it is rude for a peep to stare at a cat without the cat's written permission.  Written.  As in written on paper, and not some stupid rumour or heresay or anythin' else like that.  MOUSES!

And speakin' of stuff that was written...

Way back when, some peep wrote a nursery rhyme statin' that a cat went all the way to London to look at the Queen.  This peep also made mention of mice.  Or a mouse.  One little mouse, I do believe.  One little mouse who was under a chair and since it was the Queen's chair, I'm thinkin' it was actually a throne and...

Hmmm...

Only throne we have at my house is the one in the bathroom and it's not so much a throne as it is a...  Well...  You know...  A toilet.

Plus, no mice live under there.  MOUSES!

But that begs the question...

How come peeps get thrones and cats get litter boxes?  I mean, if a cat can scare a wee little mouse sittin' under the Queen's chair, aka throne, aka toilet, SURELY said cat shouldn't have to do his or her business in a plastic litter box.  After all, I...  uh...  um...

Now where was I again?

Oh yeah.

The thing is, no cat should ever be subjected to a peep starin' at him so much that the starin' wakes said cat up from his afternoon nap.  MOUSES!