storm watch

This is Seville the Cat here, bringin' you live updates 'bout Hurricane Teddy approachin' Atlantic Canada on Tuesday September 22nd.  By the time Teddy makes landfall later today, the weatherpeeps are expectin' him or her to have been downgraded to a Tropical Storm, or somethin' like that.  Strong winds, stronger gusts, and lots and lots of heavy rain.

MOUSES!

Now let me peer out into the oncomin' storm...

Okay, I can't see all that much, on account of my bein' in the house and under the dinin' room table, but it sounds like it's pourin' outside.

Sure am glad I'm in.

MOUSES!

And in other news...

And in other news, while the Province of Nova Scotia is battenin' down the hatches, securing objects that might get blown around and injure people or damage property, nearby...

IN MY COUNTY, peeps have just finished pilin' all sorts of possible projectiles at the ends of their driveways, ready to be picked up in the fall cleanup tomorrow mornin'.

That's how we roll here in Annapolis County.

MOUSES!

Peeps.  Peeps will be peeps.

MOUSES!

Yup, it's true.  Much to my dismay, I watched ol' Peepers drag one of my super old kitty condos down to the curb this mornin'.  It's missin' half its carpetin' and, truth be told, I threw up on it last week, so I'm not too upset 'bout it goin' out in the garbage.

And I really don't think it'll ever get airborne.  Nope, not even with a hurricane strength wind gust.  It's pretty massive, you see.  And heavy.  Super heavy.  Super duper heavy, for sure.  You should have HEARD ol' Peepers huffin' and puffin' as she carried it down the stairs.

Carried...  Dragged...  Whatever.

MOUSES!

Nope, that thing is stayin' put down there on the road.

But there's an old plastic lawn chair lyin' next to it that likely WON'T be around tomorrow mornin'.

MOUSES!

But seriously, what is Peepers to do?  County wants to go ahead with the cleanup even though there's a hurricane / tropical storm on its way.

MOUSES!

I've got my paws crossed that some of the neighbours have put out tins of the fanciest of the feasts that might happen to roll on by, my way.

Roll by...  Fly by...  Whatever.

But with my luck, if anythin' blows into my yard, it'll likely be somethin' stupid like...

Like...

Like nail clippers and harnesses and a kitty-sized dumb ol' bathtub.

MOUSES!

But in OTHER news...

Well not so much other, as unrelated.

WELL...  Well not so much unrelated as uh...

Um...

More interestin' to me.

In MORE INTERESTIN' TO ME news, my catnip plants are safely secured.  Yup, Peepers tucked the pots in a corner where they're not likely to be affected by any winds.  They'll get rained on, she says, but rain is okay.

JUST AS LONG AS THEY DON'T GET BLOWN AWAY.

I have my 2020 nip crop to protect, you see.

MOUSES!

Well that's all I have to report for now.  It's currently Tuesday afternoon and I'm gonna schedule this post for publishin' tomorrow, Wednesday, my regular publishin' day.  I need to be prepared in case our power or Internet go out, or anythin' like that.

For further information on the storm and Hurricane Teddy, tune in to CBC.

You never know.  You might see me there!  Yup, if that ol' TV network is smart, they'll wanna interview me, Seville the Cat, for sure, 'cause I'm kinda famous, you see.

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.

twenty-seven weeks

 

First we had the Great Toilet Paper Shortage of 2020.  Remember that one?  There was nary a roll of TP to be found.

Not that I cared, mind you.  I mean, as a cat, I don't use toilet paper all that much.  Oh sure, I like to rip apart a roll, leavin' bits and pieces all over the bathroom floor as much as the next cat, but it's not like I use it to wipe myself after usin' the little boys' box.

MOUSES!

As long as the unavailability of toilet paper didn't mean peeps would be resortin' to usin' litter and my litter boxes, the ol' TP shortage didn't affect me.

Then came the Toilet Paper Wars.  Yup, you heard right.  Rightly?  Whatever.

Anyway, just like the Toilet Paper Shortage, the Toilet Paper Wars of 2020 also didn't affect me.  Peeps everywhere were fightin' over the few remainin' packages of TP on store shelves.  Playin' tug of war like two dogs wantin' the same chew toy, they were, willin' to tackle each other to the floor, and over rolls of TP.

Peeps.

MOUSES!

After the business with the toilet paper, other shortages ensued: paw sanitiser, disinfectant wipes, stuff like that.  Again, none of this affected me for as a cat, I don't use any of these things.  Never have; never will.

MOUSES!

And when peeps weren't busy cleanin' stuff, apparently, they were bakin'.  Bakin' bread and cakes and things.  Flour and yeast were swept off the shelves like beach umbrellas by a tsunami.  Thankfully, again, this did not affect me.

But then...

But then came the Great Yarn Shortage of 2020.  Peeps everywhere were buyin' up yarn like it was goin' out of style.  They must have been, for one day I sent Peepers out to buy me some yarn to make nip mice, but she came home empty-pawed late that evenin'.  Not a ball of yarn on the shelves, she said.

Now this - THIS - was important to me.

Thankfully, Peepers has a stash of yarn here at home.  She doesn't know I know where it is - and don't you go tellin' her I do - but I've seen it myself and I know it exists.

Whew.

MOUSES!

And now...

And now there is a shortage of thread.

Thread.

Can you believe it?

MOUSES!

It's true.  There's not a spool of thread on the store shelves.

Well truth be told, Peepers only went to the one store, so I don't know how widespread this shortage is, but still...

WILL THE SHORTAGE OF THREAD MEAN A SHORTAGE OF BIFF BAGS, TOO?

As a nip-lovin' cat, I go through biff bags like peeps go through socks, you see.

Okay, perhaps that's a poor analogy.  Most peeps go through socks a lot more quickly than I go through biff bags, if I'm gonna be honest.  But I'm sure there are SOME peeps out there who don't change their socks on a daily basis.  Now I definitely go through biff bags more quickly than than they change their dirty socks.

MOUSES!

The thing is, to make a biff bag, one needs thread.

But the thread shelves are bare!

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

Oh.  

Correction:  The thread shelves are bare of only white thread.  There are plenty of other colours, she says.

But I'm not havin' the peep make my biff bags with uncoordinated colours of thread.

No sirree.  I'm not sniffin' pink and green cotton biff bags sewn up with bright purple or orange thread.  Or turquoise, or fuchsia, or any other colour that doesn't go.

THERE ISN'T ENOUGH NIP IN THE WORLD TO GET ME NIPPED UP ENOUGH TO TOLERATE ANYTHIN' LIKE THAT.

I, Seville the Cat, am a cat with taste.  I have fashion sense, I do.  I have my own style!  I know the difference between tasteful and garish, and garish biff bags are not for me, you see.

Uncoordinated biff bags...

WHAT IS THIS WORLD COMIN' TO?

MOUSES!

It seems to me, that durin' the last one hundred and forty-six million, nine hundred and sixty-six thousand, four hundred cat seconds of this pandemic thing, peeps have started up a whole lot of bad habits.  Bad habits like usin' too much yarn and thread for ridiculously useless things, and not keepin' in mind that such commodities need to be saved for IMPORTANT things like the knittin' of nipmice and sewin' of biff bags.

PEEPS NEED TO START GETTIN' THEIR PRIORITIES STRAIGHT.

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.

you know dasher...

You know Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and...

NO...  No, I'm not singin' Christmas carols in September.  Would I, Seville the Cat, do somethin' like that?

Well actually, I kinda am.  Heheheheheh...  Yup, I was kinda hummin' along to that song, but...

BUT I'M SINGIN' IT FOR REASONS TOTALLY UNRELATED TO CHRISTMAS.

MOUSES!

The thing is, I was watchin' some squirrels this mornin' - and FYI, squirrels are not really Christmassy - and I've come to the conclusion that they...

Well...

Prance.  You know, as in Prancer.

Yup, they do.  And they dash, as in Dasher, too!

As for the dancin', they leave that to the peep.

That is if you wanna call what she does dancin'.  It's really more like stickin' a leg out here, an arm out there, and spinnin' around a bit on occasion.  She thinks it's dancin' on account of her makin' those stupid lookin' movements to music, but the thing is...

THERE'S NO MUSIC TO BE HEARD!

Nope, not a sound.  There's not a single, solitary note to be found.

Apparently, the music is all in her head.

I sure do hope that the imaginary music sounds better than those dance moves of hers, look.

MOUSES!

But back to the dashin' and prancin' of squirrels.

Those squirrels are quite the characters to watch, you know.  They leap and bound across the front lawn, which would normally bother me on account of their trespassin' ON MY PROPERTY, but they're so funny to watch, I'm not plannin' on pressin' any charges.

Charges of trespassin', that is.

But one more acorn to the head, and I'll be callin' the RCMP to press charges for assault, for sure.

Well actually, I'm not too worried 'bout when they toss acorns at the peep's head.  I'm not gonna bother goin' to the police about that.

Hahahahaha....

But if they start tossin' acorns at ME, that's totally different, for sure.

MOUSES!

Hmmm...  Now that I think about it, I have to wonder if all those acorns Peepers has taken to the head have anythin' to do with the imaginary musicians she has livin' in there.

Could be.

MOUSES!

But back to the squirrels.  Again.  Like I was sayin', they've been racin' back and forth, and forth and back, and back and forth again across MY FRONT YARD, like runnin' back and forth is goin' outta style.  You should see 'em!  They've been leapin in the air like horsies doin' the ol' steeplechase thing.  Then when they reach the base of a tree, they dash up it, toss a few acorns at the peep is she's out and about, then do a little dance...

OH MY MOUSES!  The squirrels DO dance!  It's true.  Yeah, they do a little dance up on the branches of the tree after tossin' acorns at the peep and before dashin' back down to start their prancin' steeplechase all over again.

Well I'll be...

Have to wonder, though.  Do squirrels hear imaginary music in their heads like the peep hears in hers while she totally embarrasses herself - and more importantly, ME - while doin' what she thinks is dancin'?

Yup, one has to wonder, for sure.

I'd ask her myself, but the last time I commented on her "dancing," she gave me dirty looks for like a week.

Not MY fault she sucks as a dancer.  Nope, not my fault, at all.

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.

twenty-six weeks

Are you nuts, woman?  Are you absolutely bloomin' NUTS?

Of course you are.

Silly question.

MOUSES!

I'm tellin' ya, bein' pretty much cooped up here in the house for the last one hundred and forty-one MILLION, five hundred and twenty-three thousand, two hundred seconds in cat time, has really taken its toll on your mental state, hasn't it, Peepers?

Don't answer that.  It was a RHETORICAL question.

But can you imagine what MY bein' cooped up with YOU has done to ME?

MOUSES!

Peepers, Peepers, Peepers...

*sighs*

Peepers, you do realise that most people...

Hmmm...

Peepers, you do realise that NORMAL people...

Yeah, that's better.

You do realise that normal people, especially ones with gardens, try to get RID of gigantic green caterpillars, don't you?  I mean, NORMAL people recognise that large green caterpillars are wantin' to eat your plants and things, and so the first thing they do when they see one is dispose of it.  You know that, don't you?

But you...

*sighs again, this time more loudly*

You are a different kinda peep, for sure.  You, my dear Peepers, see a big green caterpillar makin' its way across the street, and what do you do?

You go and rescue the darned thing.

MOUSES!

Bet you rescue worms on the driveway, too.

Of course you do.  Come to think of it, I've actually seen you doin' so.

MOUSES!

Peepers, what if that big ol' green caterpillar was a tomato hornworm or somethin' like that?  What if you rescued some kinda creepy crawlie that's gonna repay you by eatin' your tomatoes?

Well actually, it would be after the tomatoes belongin' to the neighbours down the street, I guess, on account of that's where you rescued it.

Neighbours are sure gonna love you.

NOT.

MOUSES!

But my point is, Peepers, it's fine to go 'round rescuing stray kitties and puppies and things.  In fact, rescuing kitties and puppies is a REALLY GOOD THING.  It's one of those things that gets peeps to Heaven and stuff.

And Peepers, feel free to rescue mice, too.  I must admit, I'm partial to a rescued mouse served with a creamy catnip sauce on the side, myself, but uh...


Um...

Never mind.

MOUSES!

BUT...

BUT NORMAL PEEPS DRAW THE LINE AT RESCUIN' CATERPILLARS.

Of course, you're not all that normal, are you?

Again, don't bother answerin'.  That's another rhetorical question, you see.

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.

*sniff sniff*

Stand still there, Peepers, and gimme your paw.

Your hand, Peepers.  Gimme your HAND!

Of all the stupid peeps.

MOUSES!

*sniff sniff, sniff sniff sniff*

Hmmm...

White and grey tabby.  Female.

*sniff sniff*

Smells like Misty.  You met Misty while out on your walk, Peepers?  Her fur's not long, but it is kinda fluffy.  She's a very pretty ladycat.  Yup, very pretty, indeed.  Is that who you met?

Well at least I think that pretty grey and white ladycat's name is Misty.  I asked her, once, and that's what she told me.  Although I also asked for her phone number, and...

Well...

Well let's just say, I don't think Misty lives at the pound.

MOUSES!

Gimme your paw...  I mean, HAND, again.  

*sniff sniff sniff*

Black dog.  Male.  Don't know his name.  Don't care to know, either.

MOUSES!

Now gimme your other paw.

*sniff sniff sniff*

I smell skunk.

I didn't say you smelled like a skunk, Peepers.  I said, I smelled skunk.

Get a grip, woman.

MOUSES!

Peepers, have you been out on the streets, cavortin' with skunks?

MOUSES!

And speakin' of mouses...

I mean, mice.

*sniff sniff sniff*

Nope, I don't smell any mice.

And that's a relief, for sure.

But back to this skunk.

So how come you were interactin' with a skunky while out walkin', Peepers?  Did you forget 'bout social distancin' and stuff?  And FYI, social distancin' with skunks is a VERY WISE thing to do.

MOUSES!

And regardin' this skunk; did you ask him his name?  Did you ask for his rank and serial number, too?  And is this a feral skunk, or does he live with peeps, and...

BUT DON'T YOU GET ANY IDEAS, PEEPERS.  Skunks are nice, I guess, but not nice enough to have as roommates.

MOUSES!

Tell me, Peepers.  What exactly do you know 'bout this new skunk friend of yours?  Details, please.

HE LOOKED LIKE A SKUNK?

Of all the stupid, unobservant peeps.

Peepers, you do realise that as a peep, you are clearly the inferior species.  Your olfactory skills kinda...

Well...

Suck.

I mean, I, Seville the Cat, can sniff your paw and identify each and every critter you met while you were out walkin', and all you can tell me 'bout those critters is that one of 'em looked like a skunk.

Pathetic, that is.

*shakes head with pity*

MOUSES!


Okay Peepers, now gimme your shoe.  I wanna know exactly where you walked.

Yeah, I CAN trace your steps just by sniffin' your shoes.  Just because YOU'RE an olfactory incompetent nincompoop doesn't mean I am, too.  I, Seville the Cat, sniff SO MUCH BETTER than you.

By the way, I smell better, too.

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.

twenty-five weeks

You take me for granted, Peepers.  YOU TAKE ME FOR GRANTED!

Don't think I don't know 'bout it bein' Ginger Cat Appreciation Day last week.  DON'T THINK I DON'T KNOW!

And FYI, Peepers: I, Seville the Cat, AM A GINGER.

MOUSES!

But did we celebrate?  Did you throw me a party?  Did you make me a cake?

DID YOU BUY ME MORE NIP?  HUH?  HUH?  HUH?  DID YOU?

No, you did not a thing.

MOUSES!

Stupid peep.

MOUSES!

Oh sure, you did set up that big gigantic ENORMOUS litter box, outside.

BUT THEN YOU COMPLAINED WHEN I USED IT!

Again, stupid peep.

MOUSES!

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

LIKE I TOLD YOU ON WEDNESDAY: IF IT LOOKS LIKE A LITTER BOX AND WORKS LIKE A LITTER BOX, IT IS A LITTER BOX, PEEPERS.  And I don't wanna hear nothing 'bout no stupid raised beds for veggies ever again.

MOUSES!

You know, when a kitty finds out there's a special day set aside especially for himself and other marmalade kitties like him, a kitty should be able to expect his peeps will throw him a party.

The LEAST you could have done was salmon mousse cupcakes with catnip cream cheese icing.

BUT DID I GET ANY OF THAT?

No.  Nadda.  Not a thing.

All I got was cheek.

MOUSES!

And speakin' of cheek...

IT'S SUPER CHEEKY OF PEEPS TO THINK THERE SHOULD BE CELEBRATIONS FOR THEM, WHEN NONE OF 'EM ARE DOIN' ANYTHIN' TO CELEBRATE ME.

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

What do you MEAN "EVERY DAY" is a day where you celebrate me?  What do you MEAN?

Seriously, Peepers, what DO you mean?  'Cause I'm not seein' it, here.

I WANT A PARTY!

A big party.  A big party 'specially for me.  A party with all the cats in the neighbourhood, and...

Scratch that.  I don't really like the other cats in the neighbourhood.

Hmmm...

Okay, how 'bout this?  Peppers, you bake me a cake filled with yummy stuff like tuna and catnip and things, then pile on the prezzies - FYI, I like nipmice - and then...

Then...

Then take out a full page ad in the paper 'bout how wonderful I am, and how stupid you are for makin' me miss out on Ginger Cat Appreciation Day, and...

I'M NOT DONE YET.

Don't interrupt or I'll have to start all over again.

And in that ad, Peepers, you can explain how I've been cooped up in this here house with you two peeps for one hundred and thirty-six million, eighty thousand seconds in cat time, and how I must be like some kinda extra-special SAINT havin' put up with you for so long, and...

AND HOW I'M WILLIN' TO ACCEPT DONATIONS OF CATNIP.

You know, if anyone has any lyin' around.

Got that, Peepers?  HUH?

Good.

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.

you who...

You who...

Oh, YOU WHO...

HEY YOU!  YOU!!!  Yeah, you, Peepers.  YOU!  Quit what you're doin' there, and look over here.  Look over here, at me.  I'm talkin' to you.

MOUSES!

Sometimes the soft gentle mewings of a gentlecat won't do, you see, and YOU'VE GOTTA HOLLER to get their attention.

What can I say?  Peeps.  Peeps'll be peeps.

MOUSES!

Hey Peepers!  OVER HERE.

MOUSES!

So Peepers, I was thinkin' the other day.  I was outside in the garden and I was thinkin'.  I was thinking 'bout how I couldn't help but notice that nice new litter box you set up for me out there.

What do you MEAN, what litter box?  WHAT DO YOU MEAN?

You know the one, Peepers.  It's about yea high and yea wide...

Oh, sorry.  Yeah, I know, my front legs aren't really long enough to give you an accurate description along with the yeas.

Hmmm....

Okay, so it's about four by eight paws, and comes up to my shoulders.  You know the one?

Yeah, I WAS WONDERIN' about that.  I was wonderin' why it was filled with dirt and stuff and not litter.  But I figured you ran out of litter or somethin'.  After all, it is a pretty big box.  Fillin' it would use up a lot of litter.  OR MAYBE, you wanted to give me the full outdoor experience.  When it comes to dirt and kitty litter, dirt is the more NATURAL of the two.

MOUSES!

But anyway, Peepers, that stuff doesn't matter.  I just wanted to thank you for the new outdoor litter box, and let you know how much I appreciate the effort you put in, and...

What do you MEAN that there litter box isn't a litter box?  WHAT DO YOU MEAN?

Nope, I'm gonna have to disagree with you on that, Peepers.  It works just like a litter box.  Just like a litter box should.

I know, 'cause I tried it out and everythin'.

MOUSES!

Peepers, if it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it probably is a duck, right?  AM I RIGHT?

Well...

Well if it looks like a litter box, works like a litter box, and smells like a litter box, it probably IS a litter box, and...

IT IS TOO.

MOUSES!

Okay, if you're so sure that there litter box is actually a raised bed for you to plant stupid lettuce and spinach and mustard and stuff, let me ask you this:

HOW COME THERE'S NO STUPID GREEN VEGGIES PLANTED IN THERE AND ALL THERE IS IS LITTER?

Well dirt, actually, but the fact is, there are no stupid green veggies in there.  Just dirt and...

Um...

Well...

Poopies.

Two lots, in fact.

MOUSES!

Like I said, IT'S A GREAT litter box.  Nice and roomy and everythin'.  Roomiest litter box I ever did use.

But...

But as there are now TWO lots of poopies in there, you might wanna get the scoop from the little boys' box next to the powder room, and go scoop out my new and improved OUTDOOR litter box.

Don't want it gettin' TOO stinky, you see.

MOUSES!

AND WHILE YOU'RE OUT THERE, YOU WANNA PUT UP A SCREEN OR SOMETHIN' SO THE NEIGHBOURS CAN'T SEE ME USIN' MY NEW BOX?

Nosy neighbours.  Can't a kitty have a little privacy 'round here?

It's not like I was usin' THEIR outdoor litter boxes to do my business.

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.

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.

whatcha doin'?

Whatcha doin' there, Peepers?  Huh?  HUH?  WHATCHA DOIN'?

I only ask 'cause...  Well...  Well to me, it looks like you're doin' nothin'.  NOTHIN'.  Nothin' as in absolutely bloomin' nothin'.  As in sittin' there like a lazy slob, not doin' a thing.  Not doin' a thing when quite honestly, you COULD be doin' somethin' useful like uh...

You know...

Doin' somethin' for me.

MOUSES!

So again I shall ask, WHATCHA DOIN'?

AHA!  I was right.

Yup, I was right.  I was right all along.  You ARE doin' nothin', Peepers.  You're doin' nothin' at all.  And since you happen to be doin' nothin', why don't I give you somethin' useful to do?

Now let's see...

Peepers, the sewin' machine is still sittin' on the dinin' room table and it, too, is doin' nothin' right now.  How 'bout you sew me up a biff bag or two?

WHAT?

What do you MEAN you can't sew when the power is out?  What do you MEAN?

Oh.

Really?

MOUSES!

Well how come the power is out, anyway?  You forget to pay the electricity bill or somethin' stupid like that?

WELL OF COURSE I HEARD THE BIG BOOMIES.

I mean, I might have been under the bed at the time, but believe-you-me, if boomies are loud enough to send a kitty under a bed, those same boomies are loud enough to still be heard while under said bed, too.

But what do the boomies have to do with your forgettin' to pay the electricity bill, pray tell?

Oh.


They did, huh?  Those boomies knocked out the power, you say?  Maybe hit a power pole or somethin' like that?

Hmmm...

MOUSES!

Well whatcha gonna do 'bout those boomies then, huh Peepers?  WHATCHA GONNA DO?

And FYI, hidin' under a bed doesn't do much of anythin'.  I might remind you that I was hidin' under a bed and you're now claimin' those boomies, while I was under said bed, were still able to knock out the power.

Hmmm...

And just to clarify, when I say hide, I don't mean hide as in I was scared, or anythin' like that.

No.  No, I mean...

I MEAN I WAS HOLDIN' DOWN THE FORT, PROTECTED EVERYBODY ELSE FROM UNDER SAID BED.

'Cause that's the kinda stuff brave kitties like me do.

MOUSES!

And uh, Peepers?

When might the power be plannin' on comin' back on?  Any ideas?

I only ask 'cause I'm in need of the little boys' box, and as I managed to scarf down a bit of cream I found left on Peep #2's unattended plate on the table, earlier, I'm thinkin' you're gonna wanna send a full hazmat team, complete with runnin' water and lots of soap, into the bathroom right after I...

You know...

Use the litter box.

MOUSES!

Why don't you phone up Nova Scotia Power and let 'em know 'bout us needin' the power back on like...  LIKE RIGHT NOW.

JUST DON'T GIVE 'EM MY NAME!

You can say YOU'RE the one plannin' on stinkin' up the litter box in 'bout five minutes, if you like.

On the other paw, why don't I make that call.  You're likely to get confused or somethin' and blame the stinkies on me.  I'M more likely to keep the record straight.

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.

twenty-three weeks

'CAUSE I'M A BLOGGIN' KITTY, YOU FREAKS!

Sorry.  Sorry!  Gosh darn it, I SAID I was sorry.  I usually only call Peepers a freak.  Gimme ten minutes and I'll come up with somethin' else to call you.

MOUSES!

BLOGGIN'.  BLOGGIN'!  I'll explain it to you again: I have a blog.  Yes, I am a cat AND I have a blog, and that means I need the Internet, you see.

Let's try this ONCE MORE.  I, Seville the Cat, have a blog.  And I can't write my blog unless I can get on-line, and I...

YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW SLIPPERY THESE HERE COMPUTER KEYS ARE FOR MY CLAWS?  I can't be fiddlin' over and over and over again, hopin' and purrin' that THIS time it'll work.  I'M SEVILLE THE CAT!  I CAN'T WORK WITH NOTHIN' MORE THAN A HOPE AND A PURR.

*hangs up phone*

Boy-oh-boy, you'd THINK our Internet provider would be proud to have me, Seville the Cat, usin' their services, but from the looks of things...

Awww....  MOUSES!

*deep breaths*

I'm upset.  Peepers is upset.  The neighbours are probably upset, too, on account of that ol' scream Peepers let out 'bout an hour ago.

It was a doozy, for sure.

The scream, I mean.  Not the peep.

MOUSES!

It's bad enough I've been cooped up here with the peeps for one hundred and twenty-nine million, one hundred and ninety-three thousand, six hundred cat seconds, due to this pandemic thingy.  And now I have to be cooped up with 'em with lousy Internet service, too?

It's more than a kitty can bear, I tell you.  MORE THAN A KITTY CAN BEAR!

MOUSES!

The peeps are seriously thinking 'bout switchin' Internet providers.  Switchin' is a hassle, Peepers says, but...

But I won't have to do anythin', so it isn't a hassle for me.  As opposed to my not bein' able to get on-line when I need to blog, or everythin' bein' so slow I can't visit my pals on Facebook.  Now THOSE THINGS are hassles, for sure.

For me.

And that's what counts.

What's more, what's a hassle for me is a hassle for others, too, 'cause...

'Cause when I start complaining 'bout feelin' hassled...

WATCH OUT.

MOUSES!

NO, I'm not thinking 'bout complainin' by meowing, loudly.  I could, of course, but that's not the most effective method of complainin', you see.

The MOST EFFECTIVE method of complainin' is...

POOPS IN SHOES.

THAT'S how you get their attention, for sure.

MOUSES!

The question is, how can I get my paws on all the shoes belongin' to the peeps in charge of the Internet?

Hmmm...

I know!

Peepers, prepare the teleportation device.

Why?

WHY?

'Cause I've got some poopin' to do.

MOUSES!

I had best pack a couple masks to take with me, I think.

You know, to be socially responsible and stuff.

AND I had best pack some dairy type snacks like uh...  Like cheese and a big bowl of milk.

If you're gonna poop in peeps' shoes to make a statement, you wanna make that statement as soft and as STINKY as can be.

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.

dinner is served

HEY PEEPERS!  Got you somethin'.

And FYI, you don't have to go shoppin' this week.

MOUSES!

Well SQUIRREL, actually.  It's not a mouse.

SQUIRRELSIES?

Doesn't really have the same ring to it, if you know what I mean.  Methinks I'll stick to the original.

MOUSES!

What do you MEAN you don't eat squirrel?  You worried this here squirrel might be a relative or somethin'?  I know you're a bit squirrelly, but I didn't think it was...

Well...

Genetic.

MOUSES!

For mousin' out loud.  A kitty brings home a nice squirrel roast and what does a kitty get?

Nothin' but grief.

MOUSES!

Peepers, I was doin' you a favour.  I was bringin' home the bacon...  I mean, squirrel.  I THOUGHT you'd appreciate my hard work.  I THOUGHT...

Oh yeah...  You're a VEGGIEtarian.

Hmph.

Shoulda brought home some lettuce instead.

Be right back.

HEY PEEPERS!  IS STINGIN' NETTLE THE SAME AS LETTUCE?

Just kiddin'...

MOUSES!

So anyway, since you didn't appreciate the effort I made regardin' tonight's dinner, I'll take my squirrel back now.

What do you MEAN you put it away?

No, seriously, WHAT DO YOU MEAN?

You wrapped it up in a paper towel, took it outside, and said a little prayer while laying it to rest?

YOU WHAT?

Mouses, woman, I caught that squirrel with my own four paws, and you...

Stupid, good for nothin', unappreciative, dimwitted peeps...

MOUSES!

And what are you doin' now?

Who are you callin', Peepers?  WHO ARE YOU CALLIN'?

You're not callin' the squirrel police, are you?  'Cause there's no need to do anythin' so rash as that.  There's no need to...

YOU'RE WHAT?

DON'T YOU DARE CALL THE VET.  DON'T YOU DARE!

I DO NOT NEED A DEWORMIN' PILL JUST 'CAUSE I CAUGHT A SQUIRREL.  I DO NOT!  I DIDN'T EVEN EAT IT!

Oh sure, I would have eaten it had I been given the chance, but you took it away before I got to, and...

Peepers, I promise never to catch a squirrel again.  If I promise to never, ever, ever catch another squirrel, will you promise not to call the vet?  Please?  PLEASE?  PLEASE?

I have the meanest, nastiest peep in the world wide world.

FACT.

MOUSES!

Well that's the last time I ever go grocery shoppin' for Peepers again.  The last time, I tell you.  The LAST TIME!

A kitty goes grocery shoppin' for their peep and what does a kitty get?

Nothin' but grief.

Not to mention a stupid dewormin' pill.

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.

twenty-two weeks

Whatcha got there, Peepers?

*sniff sniff, sniff sniff sniff*

Hmmm...  That's not nip.

"I know they're not catnip, Seville, but aren't they pretty?"

Meh.  Like I said, they're not nip.

"Well I like carnations, Seville, so there."

You like a lotta stupid stuff, Peepers, so THERE!

MOUSES!

Don't you roll your eyes at me like that, Peepers.  You and I both know darn well those flowers aren't as good as catnip.  They're not as good as nip mice, or nippy biff bags, or any other kinda catnip-related items, at all.

Not tuna-related, either.

Not that tuna is as good as the nip, but hey, it comes in at a strong, distant second.

MOUSES!

So anyway, Peepers, speakin' of nip...  I mean, tuna, how 'bout gettin' me some lunch?  Some albacore flaked white tuna with a sprig of catnip on the side would be nice.

And while you're at it, COULD YOU BRING ME A SAUCER OF CREAM?

Scratch that.  My mouth loves cream but my tummy...  Not so much.

MOUSES!

But speakin' of cream...

Peepers, you ever wonder how you ended up livin' with a kitty like me?  A kitty who is surely the CREAM of the crop?  Not that I'm a crop, or anythin' like that, but I certainly am the feline equivalent to cream.

Cream rises to the top.

In case you didn't know.

MOUSES!

And speakin' of risin'...

Peepers, how come you slept in this mornin'?  I was waitin' for my brekkies 'bout seven-thirty in the am, and I didn't get those brekkies of mine 'til at least eight.

I DON'T CARE IF IT'S SUNDAY.

Gosh darn it, Peepers, my tummy pays no attention to the days of the week.  You know that.

Unless, of course, the calendar makers out there create a NEW day in order to celebrate the nip.  Like uh... Like Niptuneday.  I would pay attention to that.

Has a nice ring to it, I think.

MOUSES!

And speakin' of rings...

Nope, I got NOTHIN' for rings.

'Cept of course, I CAN RUN RINGS 'ROUND YOU, Peepers.  I can run rings 'round you, for sure.

MOUSES!

But back to this calendar and days of the week thing.  You know what day it is today, Peepers?  You have any idea?  Huh?  HUH?  HUH?

Of course you don't.

MOUSES!

As you know absolutely nothin', Peepers, I shall explain.  Today marks twenty-two weeks of MY havin' been STUCK HERE in this house with YOU.  Yup, twenty-two weeks.  TWENTY-TWO.  That's one hundred and nineteen million, seven hundred and fifty thousand, four hundred seconds in cat time.

Did you hear what I said, Peepers?  I said, I'VE been STUCK HERE WITH YOU for ONE HUNDRED AND NINETEEN MILLION, SEVEN HUNDRED AND FIFTY THOUSAND, FOUR HUNDRED cat seconds.  That's a whole lotta seconds, you know.  A WHOLE LOTTA seconds, for sure.

I deserve a medal of some kind.

Or perhaps a monetary prize.

Oh, I know!  I deserve money to buy myself a new nip mouse.  Or a biff bag!  Or maybe both.  Anythin', really, other than those stupid carnations of yours.

Boy, do they EVER stink.

A rotting tuna would smell better.

A LOT better.

A WHOLE lot better.

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 rained

It rained.

IT RAINED!

IT RAINED!

And there were boomies, too.

MOUSES!

Peepers was SUPER PLEASED 'bout the rain, on account of us not havin' had any in like...  Like a billion, gazillion years, or somethin' like that.

Gazillion years...  Couple weeks...  Whatever.

MOUSES!

Personally, I didn't care much.  I mean, I was inside when it started pourin', so you know...

It didn't affect ME.

MOUSES!

But I'll tell you what did affect me:  One minute I was hangin' out in the livin' room with my favourite nip mouse, and the next...

I WAS RUNNIN' FOR COVER!

Why does thunder have to be SO loud?

And why does a  kitty run so low to the ground when runnin' for his life?  It really slows ya down, you know?  And at a time when you really don't wanna be slowed down.

And WHY do peeps laugh when they see you runnin' like that?

Okay, so they didn't laugh, really.  It was probably more of a smirk.

YEAH, THAT'S RIGHT, PEEPERS.  I SAW YOU SMIRKIN' AT ME.

Just you wait 'til I see YOU runnin' for your life, and I'm gonna smirk right back at ya, for sure.

MOUSES!

And do you know somethin'?  It turns out, thunder is just as loud in the family room, as it is in the livin' room.

MOUSES!

Oh sure, I could have jumped up into Peepers' arms for comfort, or somethin' like that, but you seem to be forgettin'...

SHE SMIRKED.

She smirked AT ME.

I SAW HER.

MOUSES!

Plus, the pink chair was closer, and I needed to take cover, fast.  Like, really, really fast.  Like instantaneously, my friends.

MOUSES!

But after the rain and the boomies were all over, I...

Well actually, after the boomies were over.  I didn't care 'bout the rain, remember?  THE RAIN wasn't terrifyingly loud.

So after the boomies were over, I stretched out under that ol' pink chair and had a little snooze, and I dreamt of sugar plums and fairies and...

GOTCHA!  Cats don't dream 'bout those kinds of things.

Well we sometimes dream about fairies.  We sometimes dream 'bout them, wonderin' what might happen if we were to accidentally catch one in the garden and uh...  And see if it's true what they say.  You know, 'bout them tastin' like chicken.  That sorta thing.

But I was dreamin'!  I was dreamin' of nip mice and chasin' butterflies and the like.

AND I WAS WONDERIN'...

I was wonderin' why ol' Peepers had wanted it to rain so much in the first place.

She SAID it was 'cause the garden needed it, along with the wildlife.  And the forests were all so dry...

BUT I'M THINKIN'...

I'm thinkin' she KNEW it would be accompanied by those boomies, and wanted the boomies to scare me half to death like they did.

Stupid peep.

Thanks be to goodness I still have eight lives left.

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.

twenty-one weeks

You met my WHAT?

MOUSES!

Peepers, let me get this straight.  While out walkin' the other night, you say you met my...

My...

My DOPPELGANGER?  Is that what you met?

MOUSES!

*scratches behind an ear*

While out on a walk, you say.

*scratches behind the other ear*

MOUSES!

But what were you doin' siftin' through the litter box while out walkin'?

And HOW were you siftin' through the litter box while outside, walkin'?

And how did the litter box end up outside in the first place?  Litter boxes are INDOOR plumbing, Peepers.  INDOORS!

And why...

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

What do you MEAN doppelgangers have nothin' to do with litter boxes and litter?

No, SERIOUSLY, what do you mean?  I always thought...

Uh...

Never mind.

MOUSES!

So what does the word "doppelganger"mean then, Ms Know-it-all Smarty-pants Peepers?  Huh?  HUH?  Betcha don't know.  Betcha don't have a clue.  Betcha...

Oh.

Really?

REALLY?

MOUSES!

So let me get this straight, while you were out walkin' the other night, you happened to come across a kitty that looks exactly like me.

Well that must have been one VERY GOOD LOOKIN' kitty, for sure.  I mean, if he looked exactly like me...

Just how good lookin' was he, Peepers?  Was he REALLY as good lookin' as me?  Was he...

Was he BETTER lookin' than me?

Nah, that would be an impossibility, for sure.

He wasn't better lookin' than me, was he Peepers?  Tell me the truth.  I..  I...  I can handle it.  I can..

NO, DON'T tell me.  Don't give me an answer.  Don't...

Unless, of course, you're gonna tell me I'M the better lookin' kitty.  You can tell me that.  I can handle hearin' that.

MOUSES!

I see...  So he's not nearly as good lookin' as me.

Thought so.

MOUSES!

He doesn't have a locket, you say?  He doesn't have that cute little patch of cream fur I wear 'bout my neck?

And no adorable freckles on the nose, either, huh?

OH...  Well then OF COURSE he's not as good-lookin' as me.

But he does look like me in every other way.

Or so you say.

Hmmm...

You know what, Peepers?  You and I have been cooped up in this here house for a whole twenty-one weeks, now.  For a whole one hundred and fourteen million, three hundred and seven thousand, two hundred seconds in cat time.  AND DO YOU KNOW WHAT?

In all that time, we never knew my doppelganger was living 'round here.

As opposed to livin' in the litter box, but I guess that's not what bein' a doppelganger is really about.

You think this doppelganger business could be some kinda wacky, alternative universe crossover, pandemic-inspired super weird kinda thing?  After all, it is 2020, Peepers.  A kitty never knows what to expect next.

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.