As those of you who follow my fan page over on Facebook probably already know, I, Seville the Cat, have been battling a stupid ol' squeak that has attached itself to my desk.
No, not a mouse. A squeak. An actual annoying whining ol' squeak.
HEY PEEPERS! GET YOUR TAILLESS TAIL OVER HERE AND GET RID OF THIS STUPID OL' SQUEAK!
Yup, that's what I said and that's how I said it, and everythin'.
And do you know what happened next?
Nothin', that's what. Nothin'. Nadda. Not a thing.
MOUSES!
So...
So I repeated myself, only this time I repeated it more loudly.
HEY PEEPERS! GET YOUR TAILLESS TAIL OVER HERE AND GET RID OF THIS STUPID OL' SQUEAK!
And again, ol' Peepers did nothin'.
Can you believe it?
MOUSES!
Personally, I'm thinkin' she's gettin' hard of hearin' in her old age. I mean, when you're as old as the hills - maybe older - I'm pretty sure hearin' is one of the first things to go.
On the other paw, maybe it's those earplugs she ordered from Amazon after my four in the mornin' complaints 'bout this pandemic.
And spreakin' of complainin'...
I, Seville the Cat, am OFFICIALLY complaining 'bout the fact that I've been stuck here in this ol' house with this REALLY OLD peep who, I am sure, is as old as a T-Rex - maybe even older - for thirty-five weeks now. I'll do the math for you 'cause it's way too complicated for most peeps. Thirty-five weeks is the equivalent to one hundred and ninety million, five hundred and twelve thousand cat seconds, and...
And that's a whole lot of cat seconds, for sure.
Don't you know.
MOUSES!
So...
Even crazier than the peep can drive me, and let me tell you somethin', with Peepers in the drivin' seat, it's a ONE WAY trip to CRAZYland, for sure.
MOUSES!
Remember to mask up, too.