boomies

Whoa...  MAMA.

That was a loud one, for sure.

MOUSES!

Well my dear pals, I awoke this mornin' to heavy rain and SUPER LOUD boomies.  Super duper loud boomies, for sure.  Oh, I've heard louder, all right, but these ones were pretty loud as well.  Loud enough to send Saffron runnin' down to the basement to hide.

Plus, they went on and on and on.  Must have been boomin' for at least a good ol' hour!  And yes, Saffy was down in the basement that whole time.

MOUSES!

Now you're probably all wonderin' if I, Seville the Cat, was hidin' in the basement on account of the boomies, as well.

I was not.

Nope.  No sirree.  I did NOT run down to the basement to hide.

'Cause I was too busy hidin' under a bed.

MOUSES!

But once the boomies stopped, all was well with the world, again.  No damage done, at all.

I don't think.

Saffron went outside to inspect stuff after the storm had passed.  After the boomies had stopped, that is.  After the last of the boomies, he emerged from downstairs.  And, of course, after the pourin' rain had gone from a torrent to a drizzle.

But you know...

You know, even after the rain stops, the ground can still be wet.  The grass seems to take FOREVER to dry.

Which is the reason Peepers has been givin' for not havin' mowed the lawn in recent history.

MOUSES!

Now I don't know exactly where Saffy was walkin' this mornin' but boy-oh-boy, did his paws ever get wet.  All four of 'em were soppin', for sure.  If I didn't know better, I would think he had been wadin' through puddles out there.  But I DO know better and I KNOW that generally speakin', we cats don't wade in knee high water.  Generally speakin', we don't like gettin' our paws soakin' wet.

But wet they were.  Wet.  Wet.  WET!

No need to worry though, my dear pals.  He dried 'em all off.  Yup, on one of Peepers' good sweaters.

Serves the peep right for leavin' it on a chair just where a kitty with wet paws might put it to use.

MOUSES!

And FYI, the sweater is now in the wash.

Where it's wet.

MOUSES!

And speakin' of sweaters...

And speakin' of sweaters, Peepers is STILL workin' on the one she's been knittin' for what seems like weeks and weeks and weeks.  In all my nine lives, I HAVE NEVER seen anyone take so long to knit one stupid sweater.  I TRIED helpin' her out, but...

All I got were complaints.

My gosh, a kitty tries to lend a helpin' paw and gets nothin' but grief.

MOUSES!

And did you know...

And did you know (and this is TOTALLY UNRELATED topic), APPARENTLY, accordin' to some peeps, it is impossible to wash out cat slobber from unknitted yarn?

Well why don't you finish knittin' that stupid sweater, Peepers, and wash it out then!

My gosh, it's like I have to explain EVERYTHIN' to her.  Can't think for herself.  Tsk, tsk, tsk...

MOUSES!

Besides, there's absolutely no proof that slobber was mine.

Could have been Saffy's, you know.

FOR ALL I KNOW, it could have been HERS.

Peepers', I mean.  Peepers' stupid slobber.

'Cause I'm sure the girl drools.  Haven't caught her in the act but nevertheless, I AM POSITIVELY SURE.

There's no better explanation for that huge amount of slobber.

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.

have you seen it?

Hey Peepers!  You happen to know where my catnip biff bag is?

No, I'm lookin' for the white and yellow one.  The one with the bumblebee print for fabric.

Nope, not that one.

I KNOW that biff bag is white and yellow and is covered in cute little bumblebees; but that's not the biff bag I want.  I want the OTHER white and yellow bumblebee fabric biff bag.

Not that one, either.  I want THE OTHER, other white and yellow bumbl...

'CAUSE I HAVE THREE, THAT'S WHY.  I have three catnip biff bags that are white and yellow with bumblebees, for fabric.  I'm not lookin' for either of those two.  I'm lookin' for the third one.  You happen to know where that one might be?

I'm lookin' for the other one 'cause, well...  Well for starters, those two you're holdin' in your hand are all covered in slobber.

HEY!  Careful with my biff bags.  Don't you be dropping 'em on the floor like that.  A little slobber never hurt anyone.

Besides, it's mostly dried up by now.

MOUSES!

But back to the quest at paw.  Do you have any idea where my white and yellow biff bag with the bumblebee print might be?  My OTHER white and yellow bumblebee biff bag, that is.  You have any idea at all?  I've looked under the chesterfield and both family room chairs.  I don't think I had it in the livin' room so it can't be there.  And I don't think I had it upstairs, either.

Hmmm...

You didn't happen to throw it out, did you?

Just askin'.

Hey, my accusatory tone is too warranted, on account of my knowin' you've been known to chuck out a biff bag or two.

Plus, this mornin' was garbage collection.

MOUSES!

I swear, Peepers, sometimes you go 'round the house on garbage day morning, JUST LOOKIN' FOR STUFF to fill up the bag.  And more often than not, said stuff belongs to me.

MOUSES!

BUT BACK TO THE QUEST at paw.  You happen to know....

Wait a minute.  Peepers, what's that tucked in the corner behind Saffron's hammock, next to the catnip mouse and spinnin' ball toy?  Could it be....

Could it be....

COULD THAT BE MY LONG LOST WHITE AND YELLOW BUMBLEBEE PRINT FABRIC BIFF BAG, I SEE?

OH FAVOURITE BIFF BAG OF MINE: COME TO PAPA, MY FRIEND.

I'm gonna slobber all over you and get nipped as a kite, and...

PEEPERS!  Just where do you think you're goin' with those other two biff bags?

Just 'cause I don't want 'em today doesn't mean I won't want 'em tomorrow, you know.

I KNOW I said they were covered in slobber.  Truth be told, this one I was lookin' for is covered in slobber, too.  Thing is, this one is covered in three-day-old slobber.  Those two are covered in two-day-old slobber.  There's a difference, you see.

We cats are finicky that way.

Finicky, fussy, and almost always hard to please.

MOUSES!

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

And remember:

IF IN DOUBT,

DON'T. GO. OUT.

Continue to practice SOCIAL DISTANCIN' measures

AND KEEP WASHIN' YOUR PAWS.

MOUSES!

I was robbed!

It was mine, I tell you.  Mine.  MINE!  It was most definitely all MINE.

I WAS ROBBED!

MOUSES!

I know, I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin' that long-haired freak of a brother of mine, Rushton, has been into my stuff, but you know what?  Well you'd be wrong about that.

MOUSES!

I KNOW, I KNOW...  I KNOW what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin' that long-haired freak of a PEEP of mine, namely Peepers, has been into my stuff.

And about that, my friends, you'd be RIGHT.

MOUSES!

No, the peep has not been into my stash.  You know, my stash of the nip.  Thankfully, Peepers isn't into the nip like me.  THANKFULLY, Peepers never gets high on my nip.

I know!  It IS weird, isn't it?  Very weird, indeed.  But we cats never question our peeps' lack of interest in our catnip.  We simply sigh a breath of a relief.

MOUSES!

Of course, their lack of interest COULD be due to the fact that we tend to slobber all over our nip mice and stuff.  Generally speakin', cat slobber puts peeps off.  And THANK GOODNESS for that.

MOUSES!

But back to what I was talkin' about earlier.  You know, about what was all mine:

So the other evenin', just before dark, the peep came outside lookin' for me, wantin' to bring me inside.


I wasn't actually difficult to find, or anythin' like that.  I wasn't givin' the peep a hard time by hiding or running out of her reach.  Nope, I wasn't doin' anythin' like that, at all.

Then why did the peep have to come outside to get me, you ask?

Well that was on account of my ignoring her when she called me.  I was super busy, you see.  I was busy on account of my havin' found a little mousie with whom to play.

AND HE WAS MINE.

Yeah, I found him, I caught him, and I was holdin' him by his tail.

CLEARLY, he was MINE.

MOUSES!

Now I ask you: do I play with the peep's toys?  Do I go 'round playin' with her knittin' needles, and balls of yarn, and...

Okay, bad example.

Well I ask you this, then: do I play with the peep's uh...

Um...

Hmmm....

Okay, so I do tend to play with the peep's stuff, now that I think about it.  Stuff she hasn't had the sense to keep out of my reach, that is.

BUT STILL...

But still, that mousie was MINE.

I mean, what the mouses was the peep gonna do with a mouse?  What, I ask you.  WHAT?

Invite him over for tea?

MOUSES!


Next time I find a mouse, I'm gonna slobber all over him from the tips of his ears to the tip of his tail.  That'll keep the peep from takin' the next mousie I find away from me.  That'll teach her, for sure.

'Cause like I mentioned before, peeps have an aversion to slobber.

I have no idea why.

MOUSES!

woe is me

*sighs*

*sighs*

*SIGHS*

Oh hello there, my friends.  What's wrong, you ask?  Nothin'.

*sighs*

Okay, so maybe there is a little somethin' upsetting me today.  It's so observant of you to notice, and very kind of you to ask.

*sighs*

So it's like this, my friends.  It's like this:  I have a Dilemma.  A dilemma with a capital D.  A Dilemma of potentially catastrophic proportions, you see.

But...  But I don't wanna bother you with my problems.  I'm sure you have your own troubles to worry about.  I don't want to add my troubles to yours.

*SIGHS*

OH WOE IS ME!!!

Okay, if you insist.  If you ABSOLUTELY INSIST I tell you, I will.

*sighs*

So I was lookin' for my favourite nip mouse this mornin'.  You know, the nip mouse I keep hidden from Rushton in order to prevent freaky-long-hair-marmie-slobber contamination, when...

Oh my mouses, I don't know if I can continue.  My paws are shaking even as I think about what happened.

BUT DON'T YOU BE GOIN' ANYWHERE!

Oh, you weren't about to get up and leave the room?  Sorry 'bout that.  This is the part of my story when the peep usually gets up and leaves the room, but then, she IS just a peep.

MOUSES!

Okay, so like I was sayin', I was lookin' for my slobber-free favourite nip mouse this mornin'.  Now when I say I was lookin', I was REALLY LOOKIN'.   I looked practically everywhere!  All my usual hiding spots and everythin'.  I have quite a few, you know.  It's wise to have at least two hiding spots in every room; one really good spot, and then a back-up, in case the good spot is discovered by other cats or peeps.

But I digress.  The point is, I looked in every single one of my hiding spots in every single room for my favourite nip mouse, but do you know what?  My favourite mousie was nowhere to be found!

Of course, I immediately jumped onto the kitchen counter to call 9-1-1, as any concerned kitty would do.

But the peep, bein' a peep, put paid to that.  Apparently, missing nip mice aren't police emergencies, she says.

MOUSES!

Well after the ensuing heated discussion between the peep and I about what does and what does not constitute a police emergency...

And after the peep calmed down...

Yeah, yeah, I probably shouldn't have told her, her mornin' hairdo would qualify as one.  A police emergency, I mean.  And maybe I shouldn't have brought up her recent attempt to LITERALLY STARVE ME TO DEATH by making the ridiculous claim that after breakky - before lunch, mid-morning snacks are not supposed to be three-course meals...

CAN YOU BELIEVE HER NERVE?

MOUSES!

But again, I digress.

So anyway, after bein' prevented from callin' the police, I asked the peep if she had perhaps seen my favourite freaky-long-hair-marmie-slobber-FREE nip mouse, lying about.

Not that it would be lyin' about just anywhere.  It would have been in one of my hidin' spots, of course, but the possibility did exist ol' Peepers might have stumbled upon one of those spots in her travels...

Travels...  Attempts to tidy...  WHATEVER.

MOUSES!

Well just as the peep and I were gettin' into another heated discussion; this one 'bout her lack of tidying skills...

Into...

INTO...

INTO THE ROOM WALKED RUSHY.

WITH MY FAVOURITE - previously slobber free, but now obviously contaminated -  NIP MOUSE IN HIS MOUTH!

THE HORROR!!!

MOUSES!

And in related news:  I, Seville the Cat, am in desperate need of a new nip mouse.

And that is my Dilemma, you see.

*SIGHS*

the nip mouse

Okay, okay...  Don't get your knickers in a twister there, Peepers.  Just Calm. The Mouses. Down.

Now let me get this straight.  So Peepers, are you saying you're upset about my leavin' a nip mouse on your pillow, OR are you upset 'bout the fact that the nip mouse in question was covered in slobber?  I need some clarification here.  You know, to make sure we're both on the same page.

'Cause in all honesty, Peepers, I think my sharin' my nip mouse with you is really very generous of me.  Generous enough that I should probably have heard a thank you or somethin' by now.  At least a nod of appreciation.

Wait!  Before you give me your answer, I just wanna point somethin' out.  If it's the slobber that's botherin' you....

IT ISN'T MINE.

You can thank Andy for that.

Actually, if we're bein' REALLY honest with one another...

Well, had it not been for all that icky ol' slobber, I probably wouldn't have given you the nip mouse in the first place.  So maybe you should be thankin' Andy for the nip mouse, too.

MOUSES!

Uh...  Did I use the word, icky?

Hm...  I MEANT to use the word...

Nah, icky was what I meant, for sure.

And I know that because...

Well...

Well because icky is the word I used when I discovered that my nip mouse was all covered with Andy's slobber.

MOUSES!

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

Oh, I see.

So you're sayin', what upset you 'bout the nip mouse was that you rolled over in your sleep, and got the slobbered upon nip mouse right in your face, huh?

Huh.  Well I can understand your not bein' happy 'bout that.  I know I don't like gettin' a face full of slobber.  I don't even like gettin' my own slobber on my face, so I certainly wouldn't enjoy a face full of someone else's.

MOUSES!

Wait a minute, Peepers.  I need some further clarification.  Okay, so I'm down with your not likin' the face full of slobber bit, but did you also have a problem with there bein' slobber in the first place?  Was the fact that the nip mouse was covered in slobber also a problem for you?

'Cause I think I alluded to the fact before, had there been no slobber on the nip mouse, there would have been no nip mouse at all.  At least not one I'd be willin' to share.

Well don't just stand there like a mute stupidy-dupe, Peepers.  Spit it out.  Is your problem the fact that the aforementioned slobber ended up on your face, OR is your problem the actual existence of said slobber?  Come on, Peepers.  Inquirin' minds wanna know.

Whose inquirin' mind?

Well MY inquirin' mind, of course.

MOUSES!

YES, I want to know.

Actually, it's more like a need.  I NEED to know, Peepers.  I need...

Why?

Well...

Well 'cause maybe - just maybe - I might have another slobbered upon nip mouse to give you.  And maybe - just maybe - I'm wonderin' where I should leave this second mouse.  'Cause if the only problem is the fact that you ended up with slobber all over your face...  Well...  Well then, I could leave this second slobbered upon nip mouse down by your feet or somethin', couldn't I?  But if you're havin' a problem with the existence of the slobber in general, that's a totally different thing.  In that case, maybe you wouldn't appreciate my givin' you another nip mouse at all.  MAYBE...

No Peepers.  NO.

'Cause like I already told you...

Well, it's more like I implied, I suppose.   Insinuated might be more like it.  But surely by now, you should have been able to infer...

YOU'RE NOT GETTIN' ANY OF MY UNSLOBBERED UPON NIP MICE AS GIFTS.

'Cause those ones, I still like.  'Cause those ones, I'm still usin'.  'Cause those ones, I need.

Peepers, Peepers, Peepers...  It's just the nip mice Andy slobbered all over that I'm tryin' to get rid...

Uhhh...

I mean, dispose of...

Hmmm...

I ACTUALLY MEAN, GRACIOUSLY GIVE to my VERY FAVOURITE PEEP.

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

So you're sayin' you don't want ANY nip mice, at all, if they've been slobbered upon?  You don't want the slobber near your face?  Or by your feet?  Or anywhere near your person?

Really?

Oh.

Well in that case...

Well in THAT case, I'll see if I can sell the slobber covered nip mice on EBay.  I bet I can.  Peeps will buy anythin' from anyone over there.  All I need do is play up their description and stuff.  You know, change well used to loved.  Old and slightly damaged to antique.  Slimy to moisturised.  Slobber to...  To uh...  Well...  Well, maybe I had best leave the slobbered upon bit out.

MOUSES!

knittin' tv

So.

So last night...

So last night, the peep decided she was gonna do some knittin', and I, Seville the Cat, was given a stern warnin' that my assistance was not gonna be required.

Can you believe it?

MOUSES!

What nerve, thinkin' she didn't need any help from me.

What's more, imagine her assumin' I was gonna help her in the first place.  It's not like I don't have better things to do than help the peep, you know.  I have nappin', I have nippin', I have snackin', and a number of other things in my daily planner, all of which are far more important than helpin' a peep with her knittin'.

MOUSES!

I was so annoyed.  Well, I decided to nap right there on the big chair, right in front of her.  Take that, Peepers.  Take that!

Well next thing I knew, the peep's knittin' needles are goin' clickity-clack, and clackity-click, just like a train on the ol' train tracks.  Except minus the train, of course.  Minus the train tracks, too.

MOUSES!

So I closed my eyes, and listenin' to the clickin' and clackin' of the peep's needles, I started driftin' off to sleep.

Moments later, I awoke with a start.  "Seville, I told you I didn't need any help!" I heard.

"WHAT THE MOUSES ARE YOU TALKIN' ABOUT, WOMAN?" I asked, half awake, half still asleep.  "I know I'm by far the smartest member of this here family, but even I can't assist you with your knittin' while I'm fast asleep on the other side of the room on this chair.  MOUSES!"

"I'm sorry," the peep apologised.  "It wasn't you tugging at the yarn, after all."

"Well I should think not!" I scowled.  Raisin' my head, I peered across the room.  There on the floor, next to the peep's feet, was that long-haired freaky marmie brother of mine, Anderson.

And what was Andy doin', you ask?  Well I'll tell you what he was doin'.  He was lyin' there like a lion, wide-eyed and bushy tailed, which, as you know, comes kinda naturally to him on account of his really bushy tail.  And he was lookin' all innocent and stuff, as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.  Well that was my first clue that he was up to somethin' no good, for sure.

MOUSES!

I looked closer and sure enough, there was the peep's yarn, danglin' from either side of Andy's mouth.

MOUSES!

PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT:  Playin' with yarn can be very dangerous for cats and therefore, cats should never be left unattended with yarn, wool, string, or anythin' of the like.  The swallowin' of such things can lead to life-threatenin' situations.  MOUSES!

Well the peep huffed and she puffed, like a wolf visitin' little piggies.  Then she retrieved her slobbered-upon yarn from Andy's mouth.

MOUSES!

"That had better not be a nip mouse you're knittin' for Me, Peepers!  Bad enough when Andy slobbers on my nip mice AFTER they're stuffed with the nip.  I sure don't want one that's been slobbered upon beforehand, too.  MOUSES!"

Havin' retrieved her slobbered-upon yarn, the peep grumbled a second poor excuse of an apology to me for her false accusation of my bein' the one who had done the slobberin'.  Then, feelin' the cold, wet slobber now coverin' her yarn, and realizin' just how much slobber Andy is capable of producin'', she uttered a sound of disgust.  Then she went back to her knittin'.  "Don't worry, Seville," she said.  "I was making a knitted bag for myself."

"YOU'RE MAKIN' YOURSELF A NIP MOUSE?" I cried.  "A peep-sized nip mouse will use up all the nip we have in the house.  You can't possibly be thinkin'..."

"A purse," she interrupted.  "It's a knitted purse.  There will be no nip inside."

"Oh, well in that case, go ahead," and I settled down to go back to my nap.  "But you know, Peepers, you should really think about givin' that purse to somebody else.  Somebody who is unaware of it bein' all covered in Andy's slobber, you know?  MOUSES!"  And with that, I let out a big sigh, and drifted back to sleep.

Moments later...

"Andy!" I heard, again awakin' with a start.  I opened one eye, then opened the otherr.  There on the floor, lyin' by Peep #1's feet, was my brother Anderson, with the peep's yarn securely anchored under one of his paws.  "I told you NO, before," scolded the peep.

"Uh, to be fair, Peepers," I began.  "To be fair, earlier this evenin', you told Andy not to slobber on the yarn.  You said nothing 'bout his not catchin' it with his paws."

The peep gave me a weird look.

"I'm only tryin' to help, Peepers.  Take it from me, when it comes to Andy, you've gotta be really specific with your instructions.  And you usually have repeat 'em a couple times.  MOUSES!"

Ol' Peepers then uttered a sound soundin' somethin' like a growl, only...  Well...  Only it was kinda stupid soundin' on account of peeps not knowin' how to properly growl.

"Don't look at me like that, Peepers," I complained.  "You weren't specific enough with Andy.  This is totally your own fault."

Then I heard that pseudo growlin' noise again.

"And quit your gripin', woman.  That's TWICE now you've woken me up from my nap.  Do you hear ME complainin'?  MOUSES!"

"Sorry," the peep grumbled again.

"AS YOU SHOULD BE.  And by the way, Peepers, you might wanna..."  I stopped mid-sentence, pointing a paw over at Andy.  He was sittin' up now, and next to him, was my other freakishly long-haired brother, Rushton.  Rushy was clearly lookin' to get in on the action.

"I give up," the peep growled - Kinda.  You know, best growl she could muster. - and started to gather up her yarn, to put it in her knittin' bag.

Well that's when...

That's when Ol' Peepers there discovered that Rushy, bein' a Rushy, was actually sittin' on the bag.

"Bwahahahahahahahaha!" I laughed aloud.  "Looks like the cat is out of the bag!  Not that he was ever in it, but you know..."

Well the peep lifted Rushy off the bag.  She then turned to reach for her yarn, only to find Andy now holding it securely with BOTH his front paws.  So she lifted Andy off the yarn and went to stuff the yarn into the bag, only to find Rushy back on the knittin' bag again, this time chewin' on its straps.  So she picked Rushy up once more, grabbed at the knittin' bag, and started stuffin' it with the knittin', only to be stopped, when...

When she felt somethin' tuggin' on that yarn.

The peep looked down.  There were Rushy and Andy, together, hangin' onto the other end of the yarn, danglin' from her hands.  One had the very end held tightly under a paw, while the other was attemptin' to get as much slobber over the taught cotton as was felinely possible.  It was excellent teamwork, for sure.

MOUSES!

By this time, I was sittin' up on all fours, wishin' to goodness I had a bag of nip-seasoned popcorn, for watchin' the peep wrestle her knittin' away from my brothers was the best entertainment I had had in ages.  Oh, it was an Oscar-worthy performance, for sure, even though...

Even though, the peep, bein' a peep, had clearly forgotten all her lines.  Well she must have forgotten 'em, SURELY, 'cause all I heard comin' out of here were grunts and cries of frustration.

Meanwhile, my brothers were havin' the time of their lives.

MOUSES!

the slobberin' truth

For mousin' out loud.

MOUSES!

Oh hello there, my friends.  What has got my goat, you ask?  Well...

Well nothin', really, on account of my not havin' a goat.  MOUSES!

To be perfectly honest with you, I've never even had a goat.  Never really had an inkling to have one, either.  I don't know, do you think I should go out and find myself a goat?

Oh, I see.  You meant a metaphorical kinda goat.  MOUSES!

But seriously, I am a little miffed.  Bet you wanna know why.

It all began early this mornin'.

Picture it, there I was in the kitchen, munchin' on my breakies, when in between munches I said to myself, and anyone else willin' to listen, "I think I'll go grab myself a wee little nip heart and imbibe in a little of the nip."  So off I went into the livin' room, in search of some...  You guessed it...  Catnip.

But the first nip heart I encountered was smellin' a little funny.

I should explain.  It wasn't smellin' funny as in it was smellin' stuff in a funny or odd way.  That would be impossible, my friends, for nip hearts don't have noses with which to smell.

Nor was it smellin' funny as in a ha-ha funny kinda way, but rather, funny as in smellin' an awful lot like Rushy Breath which, when you think about it, really isn't funny at all.  No sirree.  Rather than funny, Rushy Breath is icky, with a definite factor of ewww, along with a good ol' side dressin' of bleh, and a touch of Possibly Tainted Tuna.  It's most definitely nothin' to laugh about, for sure.

Well needless to say, I passed that ol' nip heart right on by, and continued my search for another.

Now it didn't take me long to find a second nip heart, on account of the livin' room floor kinda bein' littered with 'em.

I should explain.  When I say the floor is littered with nip hearts, it has nothin' to do with the litter one finds in a litter box.  MOUSES!

Anyway...

So anyway, nip heart number two was located lickety-split, and...

AND IT WAS SMELLIN' KINDA FUNNY, TOO.  MOUSES!

"Has Rushy been in here slobberin' on all the nip hearts around?" I asked myself aloud, along with anyone else willin' to listen.

Hearin' no answer, I went in search of nip heart number three.

Approachin' a third nip heart, I crossed my paws that the third time would, as they say, be the charm, and...

And do you know what?

Well DO you?  Do you know what happened next?

Well I'll TELL you what happened, for sure.

Let's just say, never cross all four paws, all at the same time, while standin' upright.  'Cause if you do...

YOU'RE BOUND TO FALL DOWN.  MOUSES!

What's more, nip heart number three was saturated with the breath of Rushy, too.

MOUSES!

At that point I realized, I had to make a decision.  Should I continue in search of an unslobbered-upon nip heart, or give up my hunt, nipless.  It was a big decision to make.  A huge one, for sure.

I hemmed and I hawed.

And I hawed and I hemmed.

Then I hemmed and I...

I think you probably get the picture, my friends.

So off in search of nip heart number four I went.  Surely there HAD to be a nip heart in the house that smelled of nip, instead of Rushy Breath.

And finally...

Finally...

FINALLY...

FINALLY I FOUND IT!  I found it, for sure.

Ecstatic, I was.  Thrilled to the moon!  Thrilled to the moon and the stars and all the way back.  I was so happy, I spun 'round in a circle THREE TIMES, before gettin' ready to settle down.

And that's when I saw somethin' movin'.  Somethin' movin' in the corner of my eye.

I should explain.  The thing movin' wasn't in my eye but rather, I saw it with my eye, but it was like a...  You know...  Off to the side, corner, kinda thing.

Yes, that's when I saw Rushton Tapio movin' about.  Lurkin', and ready to pounce.

And on what, pray tell, do you think he was plannin' on pouncin'?

MY NEWLY-FOUND NIP HEART.

MOUSES!

There was a mad dash for the nip heart with Rushy pushin' me outta his way and...

Okay, so I kinda ran out of his way, all on my own accord, on account of Rushy bein' bigger than me, and the last thing a kitty wants is for a Rushy to land on his knee.

Not that we cats have knees, but knee rhymed with me and...  Well...  Well you get the picture, I'm sure.

MOUSES!

So there he was, slobberin' all over my newly-found, previously unslobbered-upon nip heart, leavin' me nipless once more.  Deliberately leavin' as much slobber as felinely possibly, infusing it with the stench of his breath, and lookin' up every now and then from his slobberin', to gloat.

MOUSES!

What to do, what to do...

Need I say it once more?

MOUSES!

And that's when I spotted it.  There, a few feet behind Rushton, lyin' on the floor, just where fate had left it.  I spotted a pristine-lookin' nip heart.  As pristine a nip heart as I had ever before seen.

I backed up a step.  Then another.  Then one more. And takin' a FLYIN' LEAP, through the air I did soar..

Okay, so here's what really happened.

After waiting 'til Rushy was caught in mid-slobber, I gave him a wide berth, as wide and as quickly as I could.  I raced around him, grabbed hold of that nip heart, and I ran right out of the room.

Clutchin' the nip heart in my paws, I raised it to my nose.  Oohhh...  The heavenly smell of nip enveloped me like...

Like no nip heart has ever done before.

Okay, so actually...  Actually, it just smelled like any ol' regular nip, but was totally free of the smell of Rushy;s breath.

And that, my friends, is the slobberin' truth.

MOUSES!