Christmas Eve, Eve

 

Oohhh boy - *rubs front paws together with glee* - only two more days 'til Christmas.  Today is Christmas Eve, Eve

MOUSES!

That's right, only two days left before the Big Guy in Red stops by my house with nip mice and treats.

I CAN'T WAIT!

Okay, so I actually can.  Wait, I mean.  It's not like I have a choice, anyway.  The calendar is what it is, and Christmas is still two days away.

MOUSES!

This Christmas is gonna be different from others, for sure.  Due to COVID travel restrictions, I haven't been able to use my teleportation device, so this year there are no Christmas adventures for me.  I did consider firin' up the ol' flyin' fryin' pan anyway and flyin' right past the border patrols and stuff, but...

BUT IT WOULD BE WRONG.

So I didn't.

MOUSES!

I also briefly considered doin' a little time-travellin' and travellin' back in time to a pre-pandemic world, but...

BUT THAT WOULD BE WRONG, TOO.

So I didn't.

Didn't wanna risk startin' a pandemic up in some other time.  Can you IMAGINE bein' responsible for somethin' like that?  My gosh, I'd end up on Santa's naughty list for eternity, never to see the Big Guy in Red, again.

MOUSES!

I did get to chat with some birdies this mornin'.  Yup, chatted with a couple blue jays emptying out the feeder Peepers filled earlier today.  They're not travellin' anywhere for Christmas, either.  Why would they?  They've got the peep wrapped 'round their little feet, fillin' up feeders for 'em and cleanin' up the messes they leave behind.

Oh, you should have seen 'em today.  TWO blue jays perched on either side of a feeder not meant for birds the size of blue jays, at all, treatin' it like a seesaw or somethin' and dumpin' all the bird seed out.

That, too, IS WRONG, but hey, I'M not arguin' with a couple squawky jays.

MOUSES!

So this year, besides those blue jays who are stickin' around, I'll be spendin' Christmas at home and all alone...

Well with the peeps, I suppose, but I won't be cavorting with Rudolf or Santa or any elves...

Which is a good thing, in a way, 'cause let me tell ya, ELVES CAN GET AWFULLY CRANKY AT THIS TIME OF YEAR.

It's the stress of havin' to make all those toys on a tight deadline and then havin' to wrap 'em all up.

MOUSES!

But even though I have no adventures on the go on account of my STAYIN' THE BLAZES HOME just like Premier McNeil says we should do, I can always share some Christmas adventures from years, past.  Right?  RIGHT.

MOUSES!

So here you are, my friends.  Here are some of my adventures from the many Christmases that have come before.  ENJOY!

The Santa Sack, part I, and The Santa Sack, part II, 2019

'Twas the Night Before Christmas, 2018

 The Shelf Elf, 2017

Santa's Mail Train and Mason to the Rescue, 2017

Reindeer Dust and Seville Saves Christmas, 2016

The Mysterious Ornament, 2015

The Naughty List, 2014

Home in Time for Christmas, 2013

MERRY CHRISTMAS, MY FRIENDS.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!

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

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.

The AdventurCats Prohibition Error Part 3

Previously on the Dash Kitten Blog...

OK Silver, pass me that screwdriver. You hold the whisk at an angle just, there and I...

*tweak*

Woah!  That is not what I...


"Hmmm...  Hmmm... HMMM...  Uh....  Um... Awww...   Awww... MOUSES!" and Seville stomped a paw.

Silver picked himself up off the ground, brushing soot and dust off his coat with a paw. Scrunching up his nose he asked, "Ewww...  What's that horrible smell?"

"That would be me," Seville answered very matter-of-factly.  "I think I singed a whisker in that there explosion.  Plus, I may have had a little accident.  You know, due to all the excitement and stuff."

Seville beckoned to his pal.  "Silver, come on over here and give me a paw, would ya?  BUT DON'T STEP IN THAT PUDDLE!  Like I said, I had a little accident."

Shaking his head, Silver carefully side-stepped the puddle on the floor, and approached Seville.  "What happened?"

Seville sat back on his haunches.  "I haven't got a clue.  Best I can figure is that uh...  Well... Ummm...  Well uh...  Somethin' blew up."

Silver scratched behind an ear.  "I had kind of figured that bit out on my own there, Sivvers. Any idea why this something blew up?"

"Nope."

"Any idea where we are?"

"Uh-uh."

Silver pawed his way over to an open window, peered outside, and murmured, "Well we're not in Kansas anymore buddy."

"We weren't in Kansas before, Silver, so that shouldn't come as a big surprise.  I think we're probably in Chicago.  You know, during the Prohibition Era.  After all, that is the time and place we were tryin' to get to when...  You know...  Everythin' blew up.  See if you can figure out the date from that calendar over there," and Seville pointed to a Gangster-of-the-Month calendar hanging on the wall.

Moments later, Silver was back at Seville's side.  "I think we're in the 1920's.  Also, I think this might be..."

Both cats froze.  They could hear voices on the other side of the door.  Deep, unfriendly, sinister sounding voices.

"Quick!  Hide!!!" Seville hissed.  The two cats dove beneath and behind a leather couch on the far side of the room.

"Like I was sayin', he's swimming with the fishes right about now. What the...?  Did something die in here?  What's that godawful smell?"

Sensing Seville might answer the gangster who had walked through the door, Silver quickly placed a paw over his pal's mouth.

"AND WHAT DID I STEP IN???"

Seville looked down at his paws somewhat sheepishly.

After what seemed like an eternity, the two 1920's Chicago gangsters left the room.  The cats ventured out from their hiding places.

"Like I was trying to tell you before," Silver hissed, "I think this is the office of a real, live, 1920's Chicago gangster.  This is not a good place for us to stick around.  We need to teleport back to 2016, ASAP."

"Yeah, about that.  We might have a bit of a problem, Silver.  You see when uh...  Well when...  Um...  When everything blew up..."

"Yes," nodded Silver, expectantly.

"Well uh...  Well...  Well I'm pretty sure our whisks blew up, too."

Silver's jaw dropped.  "Are you saying..."

"Yeah, we're up a time stream without a whisk."

"But without any whisks..."

"We can't get home," Seville finished Silver's sentence.

The two cats stared at one another in silence.

"Seville, this is not good.  This is not good.  This is NOT good.  Not good at all.  This is very, very bad.  Do you think it was the whisks?  Do you think those experimental warp whisks were faulty?"

"That very well could have something to do with it," Seville nodded.  His eyes wandered up to the ceiling.  "Another possibility is that I might have accidentally dropped some crushed nip in the rubber compound I was using to coat the whisks.  I'm thinkin' the bits of nip might have interfered with the energy transfer, messin' up the time stream."

Silver slapped a paw to his forehead. "Sivvers! Remember what Savvy always says?  NEVER TELEPORT OR TIME TRAVEL WHILE NIPPED!"

"Now you remind me. OH MY MOUSES!" and Seville sunk to the floor in despair. "What is Savvy gonna say when she finds out we're trapped in 1920's Chicago?  We're in BIG trouble.  I'm NEVER gonna hear the end of this, for sure."

"Maybe she doesn't need to know," Silver suggested hopefully.  "Maybe we can get back to the present without Savvy ever finding out about what has happened here."

"Silver, we have no whisks.  We have NO WAY to get home.  We're stuck here.  Stuck here in 1920's Chicago.  Our ONLY HOPE of ever getting home is to contact Savvy.  We need her to mount a rescue.  But don't worry.  I HAVE A PLAN."



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

Be sure to tune in to Part 4 of the Prohibition Error, this Friday, on the Dash Kitten Blog.  purrs

homeward bound

Previously on Nerissa's Life...

Mason put a paw on the shoulder of one of the squirrels and spoke very gently.  "I am very sorry to have to tell you this, but I believe your friend Robin is lost.  He has travelled to a far off land called Canada, and has found himself in another time."

"He had BETTER not be lost!" cried Seville, who had returned to Mason's side after doing his business.  "Mason, if Robin is trapped in twenty-first century Canada, we're trapped here.  Here. Wherever this is.  Not to mention, whenever."

The two cats stared at one another a moment and then cried in unison, "MOUSES!"

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

"This is bad, Mason.  This is really, really bad," Seville muttered.

Mason nodded in agreement.  "You can say that again."

"This is bad, Mason.  This is really, really bad."  Seville noticed the unamused expression on Mason's face and added rather sheepishly, "Sorry."

A small squirrel approached Seville.  Looking into the cat's eyes he asked, "Is our friend Robin never to come home?  Never?" he sniffed loudly.

Seville reached up behind him and grabbed a tissue.  "Here you go, little buddy," and he gave the squirrel the tissue to wipe his eyes.

Like a flash of lightening, Mason swiped a paw and grabbed at the tissue.  "Where did you get this?" she demanded.

Seville twitched his whiskers.  "It's just a tissue, Mason.  It's not like I stole the Royal Jewels or anythin'.  MOUSES!"

Mason held the tissue before the little squirrel.  "Have you ever seen a handkerchief like this before?" she asked.

The squirrel accepted the tissue, rather gingerly, and examined it a moment before using it to wipe his eyes and then blow his nose.  Seville's eyes opened wide with amazement at the sound.  "Such a big honker for such a little squirrel.  MOUSES!"

Dabbing at his eyes again, the squirrel answered, "'Tis a hankie.  There's nothing odd about that, except...  Except..." and he rubbed the tissue between his paws.  "It is made of paper, and not cloth?  How very odd indeed."

The other squirrels gathered around, all wanting to see the strange paper handkerchief.  Seville reached behind him again, grabbing another tissue.  "Here, this one's clean," and he laid it down before the squirrels.

"Where the mouses are you getting those tissues?" Mason asked Seville.

Seville rolled his eyes.  "Mouses Mason, from where do you think?  I got 'em from that box of..." and he dropped his jaw.  "MOUSES!"

Mason and Seville carefully examined the tissue box protruding from a hollow in the oak tree.  A hollow that had not been there earlier.  Very slowly, they both walked around the tree;  Mason clockwise and Seville, counterclockwise.  Meeting up at the box of tissues again, they stopped. Mason touched the box with a paw.  It felt like an ordinary box of tissues.

"Mason," Seville hissed.  "I don't think they have paper tissues like that in this time period."

"Tell me something I don't know," Mason hissed in return.  "That box of tissues is from our time period, and not that of the squirrels.  "Plus, the hollow in the tree is back."

Seville sat back on his haunches, for as mentioned earlier, that was the position in which he always did his best thinking.  "You think the spacial conduit network is back up and runnin', sis?  'Cause you know...  If it is..."

"We can get home!" Mason finished her brother's train of thought.

"But what of our friend Robin?" the squirrels asked in unison.

"It is not that we do not like you," began one squirrel, "but you are both cats and we, squirrels.  A cat is the mortal enemy of a squirrel.  Also, we dearly miss our good friend."

"Don't worry," Seville comforted the squirrels.  "My sister and I will think of somethin'."  Turning to Mason he asked, "You think of anythin' yet, sis?"

Mason was studying the box of tissues.  "The hollow in the tree is smaller than it was before," she murmured.

"Well it is the entrance to a spacial conduit network."  Thinking Mason looked confused, Seville added, "You know, 'cause different sizes fit into different spaces and things.  Spacial...  Space,,. Mouses Mason, don't you know anything 'bout this stuff?"

Seville pushed Mason out of his way and put one front paw into the tree's hollow, before putting in the other, and then his head.  He looked down.  Way, way, down.  "Hey sis!" he hollered.  "The hollow might appear smaller on the outside, but inside, it's a huge cavern.  Just like it was when we entered the hollow at the tree at our house.  Pass me that box of tissues, would ya?"

Mason handed her brother the tissue box and Seville dropped it.  One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi..."  *THUNK!*  "Seven Mississippies!" he yelled.  "The box took seven Mississippies to fall to the bottom."  He narrowed his eyes, trying to see where the box had landed. "Is that...  Is that...  Is that..."

Way, way down at the bottom of the cavern inside the tree, Seville spotted the tissue box and next to the box, there was a small opening.  Hanging over the edge of the opening was a small squirrel wearing a little green hat.  And in his paws he held a bowl full of acorns.

"Hey Robin!  Is that you Robin?  Robin of Sherwood Forest?" cried out Seville.

"'Tis I," answered Robin.  "What spirit calls to me from the bottom of the hollow within the great oak tree?"

Seville thought for a moment, twitching his whiskers this way and that.  "The bottom?  No, I'm up here at...  Ummm..."  He thought a moment longer.  Robin was at the bottom of the tree and he was at the top.  But Robin thought he was at the top of the tree and that Seville was at the bottom. "But that's impossible," Seville murmured.  "Or is it..."

"I know how to get home!" Seville cried excitedly.  He tried to back himself out of the tree's hollow but realized he was stuck.  "Awww...  MOUSES!  Stupid spacial conduit network changin' sizes and stuff.  Makin' me look fat.  A ginger lad eats one too many treats and the next thing you know..."

"What on earth are you going on about?" asked Mason from outside the tree.  "And who's in there with you?"

"Never mind that, sis.  Just hold onto my tail, like you did at our house when we first fell through the tree, and whatever you do, DON'T LET GO.  Oh, and you're gonna have to give me a good shove. Maybe get the squirrels out there to help push.  Openin' is a bit of a tight squeeze, I'm afraid."

"But what of Robin?" Seville heard the squirrels outside the tree ask.

"Don't worry pals.  He's on his way!  Just give Mason a good shove, okay?" Seville told them.  Then he called down to Robin and told him to climb through the hollow in the tree and jump.

Down, down, down Seville and Mason fell.  As before, the hollow within the tree was much larger than the oak tree itself.  About halfway through their journey, they passed a squirrel wearing a hat and clutching a bowl of acorns.

"Was that..." Mason began to ask.

"Yup, that's Robin!" Seville answered with a smile.  "On his way home to his pals."

Three Mississippies later - for Seville had been counting - the two cats landed with a thud, before somersaulting forward and tumbling straight through the hollow at the bottom of the cavern, finding themselves sitting next to their very own oak tree, which stood at the end of their very own driveway.  They silently sat for a moment, gazing at the welcome sight before them:  their very own house.

"Sivvers!  Mason!  Din-dins!!!"

Seville and Mason both heard Peep #1 calling them for dinner.  Scrambling to their paws, they raced toward the house and inside, although Seville did spare a moment to glance back toward the oak tree, and he sighed with relief when he saw the hollow in the tree, the entrance to the spacial conduit network, slowly disappear, before his very eyes.

the fine nuances

Previously on Nerissa's Life...

The sound of horses approaching interrupted Mason's explanation and the two cats, along with all the squirrels, looked off toward the noise.

"It's the Sheriff!" cried one of the squirrels.

"Run!" cried another.

"Hide!" yelled a third.

"How are your climbin' skills, sis?" asked Seville, and the two cats dashed up the tree, as high as they could go.

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

Seville, Mason, and the squirrels hid in the oak tree, while the Sheriff and his men milled about below.  Every now and then a horse would rear up on its hind legs, and Seville was sure someone would look up, spotting them, but instead they seemed more content to bicker amongst themselves. "Just like me with my fur-sibs," Seville whispered to himself.  "Hehehe..."

"Neither hide nor hair.  There is not a trace of them to be found," stated one of the men.  "'Tis time we return to Nottingham to ensure we are back by nightfall," and with that, the men galloped off on their horses, in the direction from where they had originally come.

Once out of sight, the squirrels scampered down the tree.  Mason and Seville followed.

"Who were those men?" Mason asked, "and why were they looking for you?  I assume it was you they were after."

"Those are the men we believe to have captured our friend, Robin," said one squirrel.

"And may be holding him captive as we speak!" piped up another.

Seville sat back on his haunches, for this was the position in which he always did his best thinking. "Hmmm...  I don't think they have your friend.  I have a sneaking suspicion that someone told them to look for you by this oak tree.  After all, they did come all this way and stop right here.  It's like they had intel or somethin'.  But if that intel had come from Robin, surely he would have told them you'd hide in the tree.  Up in its branches.  But none of 'em ever looked up.  I thought they were gonna, for sure, but no one did.  Their intel must have come from somewhere else."

"But if the Sheriff and his men don't have Robin, who does?" asked one of the squirrels.  "If Robin could come home, he would.  He must know we're worried about him.  The only way he wouldn't come home is if he couldn't come home.  Couldn't because he was being held captive."

"Perhaps he's being held captive by someone other than the Sheriff," suggested Mason.

"Well that's all we need!" and one of the squirrels threw the acorns he was holding up into the air. "ANOTHER enemy running about, trying to imprison us."

Seville narrowed his eyes.  "I don't suppose you've ever encountered anyone form the Weasel Syndicate, have you?  'Cause this is just the sort of thing those dastardly weasels would do."

Seville waited for the squirrels to answer but was met with nothing but blank stares.

"Guess not.  Guess there aren't any weasels involved.  But somebody sure did tell those men where to look for you, and your friend Robin is missin' and..."

"But there's no evidence that the two are actually connected," interjected Mason.  Robin might be missing for an entirely different reason and, I suspect, it has something to do with this oak tree."

"You believe it is the tree holding our friend captive?" asked one of the squirrels.  "Because if you do, you sound very foolish, indeed.  An oak tree holding a squirrel captive.  Ridiculous!"

"It does sound kind of hinky, sis," Seville hissed under his breath.  "We have an oak tree back home and we have lots of squirrels, too.  Never once have I ever seen any of 'em bein' held captive. MOUSES!"

"BOYS," and Mason stomped a paw with disgust.  She grabbed her measuring tape and held it up in the air.  "Do you remember how, before I was so rudely interrupted by those men on horses, I was trying to explain to you about the size differential between this oak tree and the one in our driveway? Well I won't go into too many details because the math is very complicated and I doubt any of you would understand..."

Seville opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it.

"So I'll jump right to the chase.  This tree and the tree at the end of our driveway are interconnected, Seville.  There's some sort of spacial conduit network between the two."

"More magic!" cried a squirrel.

"It has nothing to do with magic," Mason scolded, "unless you squirrels were magically shooting arrows at my brother and me earlier today."

Seville tugged at his sister's tail.  "Well actually, they were shootin' arrows at us, earlier. Remember?  We were standin' by the tree and they were shootin'..."

"I MEANT AT OUR HOUSE!"  Mason took a deep breath to calm herself.  "Remember?  Remember the arrows that were shooting out of the tree at us, when we were back at our own house, in our own yard?"

"Oh yeah...  Hey you squirrels, you.  How come you were shootin' at us before?  MOUSES!"

The squirrels looked at one another and began to chatter, discussing the situation.  "We weren't shooting any arrows at you at all until, as if by magic, you appeared by this tree."

"Well before we appeared by your tree, we were by OUR tree in our very own yard, nowhere near this tree of yours, and there were arrows comin' at us left, right and center.  MOUSES!"  Seville glared at the squirrels.  "So what do have to say to that?"

Mason stepped between her brother and the squirrels.  "That's what I'm trying to explain, Seville. They weren't shooting at us.  They were shooting at the tree.  Isn't that right?  Target practice or something like that?"

The squirrels all nodded their heads in agreement.

"The arrows must have hit the tree and been transported to twenty-first century Canada by the spacial conduit network.  And then you and I, while investigating the appearance of the arrows, were transported here."

"But what does this have to do with our missing friend?" demanded a squirrel.  "Is it your claim that he has been transported to another land?  BY A TREE?"

"Well not by the tree, exactly, but by the spacial..."

"Yeah, I don't think they're gonna understand all the fine nuances, sis.  Just tell 'em Robin disappeared in the tree," Seville suggested.

"But of course he did!" cried a squirrel.  "We told you when you first arrived:  Robin climbed the oak tree in search of acorns, and we never saw him again."

"Uh Mason..." and Seville pulled at his sister's tail again.  "I don't suppose you've given any thought to usin' that spacial conduit network to get us back home, have you, 'cause I really need to use the litter box, and I don't see any litter boxes lyin' about 'round here and..."

"Oh go do your business behind one of those trees over there!" and Mason pointed toward the edge of the clearing.  "BOYS.  Now where was I..."

"You were explaining that Robin is being held captive by the oak tree."

"TOLD YOU THEY WOULDN'T UNDERSTAND THE FINE NUANCES!" yelled Seville from the edge of clearing.

Mason put a paw on the shoulder of one of the squirrels and spoke very gently.  "I am very sorry to have to tell you this, but I believe your friend Robin is lost.  He has travelled to a far off land called Canada, and has found himself in another time."

"He had BETTER not be lost!" cried Seville, who had returned to Mason's side after doing his business.  "Mason, if Robin is trapped in twenty-first century Canada, we're trapped here.  Here. Wherever this is.  Not to mention whenever."

The two cats stared at one another a moment and then cried in unison, "MOUSES!"

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

Be sure to return Wednesday for the conclusion of our adventure.

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.

Seville's four-leaved clovers

Nissy softly padded into the kitchen, only to find his brother Seville up on the table, surrounded by a mess of glue, paint, workbooks and other assorted paraphernalia. "Whatcha up to there, Sivvers?" he asked.

"Oh, just super gluing some clovers together."

Only half-listening to his brother, Nissy continued over to the fridge and poured himself a cold mug of nip beer.  "Uh-huh...  I see. WAIT A MINUTE," and he stopped in his tracks.  "Did you say you were super gluing clovers together?"

"Yup.  Not working out all that well, though.  They keep fallin' apart.  Plus, I think I accidentally super glued some stuff together I didn't actually mean to super glue together.  FYI, don't sit in that chair over there," and Seville pointed to one of the kitchen chairs with his tail.  "And I wouldn't jump onto the stool, either."

"MOUSES!  Why on earth are you super gluing together clovers?" Nissy questioned.

"Well, I tried hot gluing them together but the glue kept melting the leaves," answered Seville.

Nissy shook his head furiously.  "Not what I meant, Sivvers.  Perhaps I didn't word that well.  I wanted to ask, why on earth are you workin' with the clovers in the first place?"

"Peep #1 said she'd really like to find a four-leaved clover 'cause they're supposed to be lucky and I thought I would give her one for St. Patrick's Day, tomorrow."

"Hmmm..." Nissy pondered.  "I think they're only lucky if they grow that way naturally.  I'm not sure that the luck sticks if they're glued together."  He picked up one of Seville's supposed four-leaved clovers and a leaf fell off.  "Apparently your glue isn't stickin', either.  I thought super glue stuck to everything.  That's why Ol' Peepers is always tellin' us cats to keep away from it.  You know...  in case it sticks to our fur."

"Oh, it sticks to fur, all right," confirmed Seville.  "I now have a green permanent marker permanently stuck to my...  my...  my ummm...."

Nerissa noticed the marker and exclaimed, "You sat on it?"

"Yeah...  I spilled some glue on the marker and the rest is history."

"MOUSES!  Seville, Ol' Peepers is gonna be furious when she sees this mess."  Nerissa took a sip of his nip beer.  "And may I ask why there's an open time vortex in our kitchen?  You been messin' with whisks again?"

Seville glanced over at the vortex.  "Oh...  that.  I needed some clovers for my work and, in case you hadn't noticed, there's still snow on the ground outside.  Needed to make a quick trip to July to pick up a supply of the stuff."

"Makes sense, I suppose," and Nissy nodded in agreement.  "But how come the vortex is still open?"

"I might have accidentally glued it open.  I didn't realise I had spilled super glue on that whisk..." and Seville looked away, somewhat shamefully. "Not quite sure how to fix that yet."

"MOUSES!" Nissy cried.  "The peep is gonna explode when she finds out we've got a permanently open time vortex in the kitchen.  You're gonna have to find a way to close that before she sees it."

"I was sort of hoping she wouldn't notice," explained Seville.  "And if I can just get these clover leaves to stick together, maybe even if she does notice, she'll be so happy about the lucky clovers that she won't freak out too much about the vortex."

"I've got a better idea, Sivvers.  Why don't we just teleport on over to the Emerald Isle..."

"And run away before the peep finds out about the permanently open time vortex in the kitchen?" Seville interrupted.

"No," and Nissy looked pointedly at his brother.  "I was gonna suggest that we teleport on over and grab some REAL four-leaved clovers.  Ones that might actually be lucky.  I've heard that leprechauns grow them by the millions.  Shouldn't be too difficult to find a few there."

"I don't know," Seville hesitated.  "The peep said we weren't to do any more teleporting after the trouble we caused in Ottawa at the Worldwide Weather Offices, Forecasting and Control, Canadian Division."

"Seville, you've permanently glued open a time vortex in our kitchen!" and Nissy slapped a paw on the table.  "A little teleporting is nothin' compared to that.  Trust me.  SIVVERS, PREPARE THE TELEPORTATION DEVICE."

Moments later, the two cats were hurtling through space and time on their way to a heavily leprechaun-infested area of Ireland.  Thinking ahead, Nissy grabbed some gold coins to cover any tariffs the leprechauns might demand as he was well aware that leprechauns are notoriously anti free trade.

After a surprisingly smooth landing, Nissy and Seville hopped out of the frying pan teleporter and onto a lawn of lush green grass.  Seville nosed about in the grass hoping to find a clover or two but, unfortunately, he found nothing but grass.  Nerissa grabbed a paw full of the stuff and started chewing. "That last mug of nip beer gave me the munchies," he explained to his brother.

"Where do we find the clover?" Seville asked.

"Let's ask around in that pub over there," suggested Nissy.  "Someone is bound to know about the clover farms, there."

The two cats approached the pub with trepidation.  Talking about leprechauns was one thing. Talking about meeting leprechauns was another.  Actually meeting a leprechaun was something neither Nissy nor Seville had ever done before and the thought was making the pads of Nissy's paws sweat.

The pub door closed behind them.  "Perfectly normal pub," Nissy muttered sarcastically.  He glanced around, seeing groups of leprechauns gathered here and there, sipping beer and doing jigs.

A fairy darted past Nissy's head, sprinkling fairy dust over him.  "Hey!  Watch it with that stuff," and Nissy shook himself violently while Seville took a swipe at the fairy, narrowly missing a wing. "Don't annoy the fairies, Sivvers," Nerissa told his brother.  "Not a good idea."

Nerissa boldly walked up to the bar and ordered two nip beers.  Paying for the beer with a gold coin, he asked in a low voice, "We're looking for four-leaved clovers.  Anyone here who might be able to help us out?"

The fairy was back, hovering by Nissy's ear.  "I can take you to a clover farm, if you like.  But you'll have to tell the orange cat to keep his claws to himself."

"Deal!" squealed Nissy with delight. "Hear that, Sivvers?  We'll get you those clovers in no time."  Turning back to the fairy, Nissy quickly explained the situation and why the cats were in dire need of the four-leaved clovers.

Suddenly and out of nowhere, a vortex of some sort opened in the corner of the room.  "The clover field managed my Sean and Seamus O'Reilly is on the other side," explained the fairy.  "Follow me."

"How did you do that?" asked Nissy, suspiciously.  "How did you open a vortex without an egg beater or whisk in sight?"

"They use magic," hissed a nearby leprechaun.  "Don't question their means.  Just do what she says and you'll be fine."

Nissy briefly wondered if the vortex was some sort of trick but desperate times called for desperate measures and the cats were pretty desperate for a paw full of four-leaved clovers.  He watched the fairy disappear into the vortex, grabbed Seville by the tail and together, they followed her through.

The other side of the vortex proved to be a beautiful, sunny lawn.  Small white, daisy-like flowers were growing here and there and although quite pretty, there wasn't a farm in sight.  Nissy questioned the fairy about the clover farm.

"Take a closer look at the grass," the fairy suggested.  "You'll find what you're looking for, there."

The boys nosed about in the grass and, sure enough, there were clovers everywhere.  The lawn was the farm, Nissy realised and what a clover farm it was.  A very high percentage of the clovers growing there were of the four-leaved variety.

"Fill your boots!" Nissy exclaimed to his brother.  "Start pickin' clover."

"But I don't have any boots," Seville sadly replied.  "I never wear the things."

"It's just an expression, Sivvers.  Oohhh...  but you can fill that hat with clover.  Just pick the four-leaved ones and put 'em in your hat for transport.  You start picking and I'll go make a deal with those two approaching leprechauns.  They must be the O'Reilly brothers."

Nissy worked out a deal to trade the gold coins he and Seville had brought with them for two hats worth of four-leaved clovers.  The fairy acted as a witness to the deal, making sure everything was in order.  Nerissa headed back to Seville and grabbed a paw full of grass to munch upon while his brother finished collecting the required clovers.

"Isn't this a whole lot easier than workin' with super glue?" Nissy asked Seville.

"Much easier," Seville answered with a smile.  "Especially for you," and he looked over at Nerissa preparing to take a nap on the sunny lawn while he continued searching for clovers sporting four leaves.

A short while later, the boys had all the four-leaved clovers they could possibly want and the fairy offered to escort them back through the vortex so that they could retrieve their teleportation device and return home.  They left Sean and Seamus behind, happily dancing jigs and counting gold coins.

"Never caught your name," Nissy said to the fairy.  "What did you say it was?"

"I didn't," replied the fairy with a smile.  "A fairy very rarely reveals her name," and with that, she disappeared, leaving behind a cloud of sparkling dust.

"MOUSES!" Nissy cried.  "She's gone and I was just about to ask her if she knew how to close that open time vortex in our kitchen.  Oh well, you'll have to figure out that one, Sivvers, but I'll help you clean up the mess with the glue when we get back home."

"Thanks, Nissy.  I'd appreciate that. Maybe you can help me get rid of this marker glued to my butt, too.  I just know the peep is gonna notice that and know I was workin' with super glue."

"That one is on you, Sivvers...   literally.  But I will help you clean up the rest of the mess.  Consider it my St. Patrick's Day gift to you."

The two cats climbed back into their teleportation device for the trip home and as they soared over the Emerald Isle they cried out, "HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY!" to everyone in sight.

ummm... does he teleport?

I had big plans for today's post.  BIG plans.  HUGE plans, in fact.  But my plans were thwarted by my inability to find the necessary information. MOUSES!

I dug around the Internet until the pads of paws were raw.  That's right.  I dug and I dug and I dug but found nothin'...  I repeat, NOTHIN' for which I was lookin'. Again I say...  MOUSES!

So I sat back on my haunches and thought for a bit.  Hmmm...  "I know!" cried I.  "Let me see..."  A little digging later and  I had my post.

Have you ever heard of the Rick Mercer Report?  It's an excellent show, for sure.  Anywho...  not that long ago, Mr. Mercer was talkin' about the travel expenses of the Right Honourable Stephen Harper...  Canada's Prime Minister.  I clearly remember bein' on the couch next to Peep #1 and gettin' my tummy rubbed while hearin' this Mercer dude talk about the numbers in certain expense reports.  To be honest, I'm not sure how current the reports were.  The show might have been a repeat or somethin' but nevertheless, IT WAS A LEAD!

As you know, as a cat, I am an expert digger.  I dig in the litter box every day.  Usually, multiple times.  In the summer, I sometimes dig in the garden, too.  Yes, my friends, the diggin' of dirt is a skill I have mastered over and over and over again.  Didn't take me long to find those travel expense reports at all.*

Anywho...  I discovered a very interestin' fact about our Prime Minister.  Accordin' to his travel and hospitality expense reports,** Stephen Harper is able to travel all over the world, really cheaply.  And when I say cheep, I mean CHEAP.  He managed to travel to Canada's west coast, east coast, the northern territories and even take a little jaunt over to Saint Petersburg, Russia for just over thirty-five hundred dollars.  And that's not thirty-five hundred dollars for each trip.  I'm talkin' thirty-five hundred dollars, total.  Actually, it was less than three thousand 'cause almost six hundred dollars of that was for his wife to travel to Calgary with him and there were a couple ninety dollar visas thrown in there.  He sure must have one super-duper travel agent.  MOUSES!

I don't know anyone who can take a trip to Russia for ninety dollars but our Prime Minister did. Oddly enough, that ninety dollar price tag is the very same amount as what those visas to Peru and Malaysia cost but the expense report doesn't say anything about a visa for Russia.  It specifically says, that he "travels to Saint Petersburg, Russia, for the G20 Summit."**  Travels to...  visa... not the same thing.  MOUSES!

I poured over and over and over the expense report and one single question kept poppin' into my mind.  You see, the answer to this question of mine could possibly make everything I was reading, make sense.  It's the only thing that could.  Finally I stopped asking myself, and just asked it out loud, "Ummm...  does he teleport?"  It was the only workin' theory I had.

Teleportation is relatively cheap.  For the price of a frying pan and some egg beaters, you can pretty much teleport anywhere.  Personally, I do it all the time.

The thing is, to my knowledge, the Canadian government does not yet have access to egg beater teleportation technology.  My brother Seville and I are the leading experts in the field and neither one of us has ever been consulted by anyone in Ottawa.  MOUSES!

Of course, one must also account for the cost of snacks.  I have learned from past teleportation experiences that one should always teleport with snacks.  Apparently, however, the Prime Minister has not yet learned about the necessity of snacking while teleporting because in his travel and hospitality expenses report, there were no reported snacks.  Again I say...  MOUSES!

On the other paw, in 2013 the Prime Minister's Office racked up an almost twenty-five thousand dollar bill for...  ummm...  snacks.***  Okay, there were some lunch meetings in there.  Quite a few lunches, in fact.  But there was also an awful lot spent on coffee, tea and soft drinks.  In other words, snacks.  Not a single mention of the nip, though.  Don't know how they survived without it. That would not be an office for me.

The Prime Minister's Office also filed an 2013 expense report for other expenses while takin' trips.****  Just over thirteen thousand was spent on rentin' buses and visas for staff and whatnot.  I'm not sure why buses were rented.  Don't know why they didn't all teleport with the PM.  Maybe they didn't have enough fryin' pans...

While diggin' around in those reports, I found a few...  shall we say...  discrepancies.  For example, in June of 2013, just over fifty-seven hundred dollars was spent so that MP David Tilson could accompany the Prime Minister to the United Kingdom and France.****  What was odd about this expense?  Well, the report specifically said that David Tilson was accompanying the Prime Minister but in the Prime Minister's travel expense report,* there were no recorded expenses for that trip.  Stephen Harper had no travel expenses for the month of June at all.  Clearly, he is usin' egg beater teleportation technology.  It's the only way to explain a cost-free trip to Europe.

But because of this discrepancy, I started diggin' for more. Completely at random, I chose the travel and hospitality expenses report of the then Executive Assistant to the Prime Minister, Jeremy Hunt.*****  In eight months, Mr. Hunt racked up almost seven thousand dollars worth of travel expenses along with another thousand or so for those ever-so-useful snacks.

I wasn't all that interested in the actual cost of the trips.  Or of the snacks.  I was far more interested in the number of trips Mr. Hunt took with the Prime Minister that the Prime Minister apparently didn't take.  From January to August of 2013, inclusive, Jeremy Hunt logged expenses for seventeen trips in which he travelled with the Prime Minister however, during that very same time period, the Prime Minister claimed travel expenses for only six trips.  MOUSES!

Either he was with the Prime Minister or he wasn't with the Prime Minister.  Both reports cannot be entirely factual.  Somethin' has been added or somethin' is missin' but most definitely, somethin' is wrong!

I went back to that June trip to the United Kingdom and France.  Sure enough, Jeremy Hunt claimed just over five hundred dollars.  I know...  the five hundred dollar amount isn't realistic for traditional travel but is actually somewhat overpriced if using egg beater teleporation technology but I digress. The amount doesn't matter.  What matters is that Jeremy Hunt claims to have travelled with the Prime Minister.  The Prime Minister's Office also, during that exact same time frame, shows expenses for MP David Tilson to travel with the Prime Minister.  But the Prime Minister's report shows no record of expenses at all.  Again I say...  MOUSES!

If peeps out there are travelin' with the Prime Minister, the Prime Minister should have expenses for that travelin'.

Now to be fair, there is a disclaimer on all of these expense reports.  It says that stuff that would be withheld under the Access to Information or Privacy Acts doesn't appear on 'em.  Perhaps those trips the Prime Minister took were top secret or somethin' and that information couldn't be released. On the other paw, if that was the case, the peeps travelin' with him shouldn't have gone and told everybody that they had been travelling with him.  Know what I mean?

But back to the discrepancies.  On those reports, some of the dates are kind of screwy.  For example, the Prime Minister travelled to Toronto for a government event on March 28th.*  Jeremy Hunt accompanied the Prime Minister to Toronto on March 24th and 25th.*****  Hmmm...  they both took a government aircraft.  Mr. Hunt's report says he accompanied the PM so surely it was the same government aircraft.  After all, that's kind of what accompanying means.  It looks to me like there's a discrepancy in the dates.  MOUSES!

The only explanation I have for these discrepancies with the dates is that someone has been messin' with whisks and the element of time travel has been added into the mix.  Perhaps the front end of the government aircraft arrived in Toronto three days earlier than the back end?  Whisks could do that.  It would explain a lot.  It could, in fact, explain it all.


Well, my friends...  I've done the math and the math has done me in.  It's not makin' a lot of sense to me.  Maybe some of you can make it make sense?  Maybe the Prime Minister's Office can make it all make sense.  I don't know. What I do know is that the more I dig through the numbers, the more likely it appears that our elected officials here in Canada are usin' egg beater-whisk time travelling-teleportation technology.  You just know you wanna agree.


*  Government of Canada Disclosure Travel and Hospitality Expenses Reports
**  Prime Minister of Canada's 2013 Travel and Hospitality Expenses Report
*** Prime Minister's Office 2013 Other Expenses
**** Prime Minister's Office 2013 Other Expenses During Trips
***** Executive Assistant to PM's 2013 Travel and Hospitality Expenses Report

the past, the present and the pumpkin pie

"PEEPERS...  prepare the teleportation device!"  Hmmm...  on second thought, scratch that.  This will be an adventure about which the peep need never know.  Never, never...  not ever.

"SIVVERS...  prepare the teleportation device!"

"On it, Nissy.  We're almost ready for teleportation.  I'm just making the final adjustments to the whisks now.  Plymouth, Massachusetts, 1621.  That the right date?"

"Not quite, Seville.  I did some research on the subject and the pumpkin pies that were eaten at the very first American Thanksgiving were nothin' like the pumpkin pies that peeps eat today.  There was no crust or anything.  Can you believe it?  MOUSES!  We need to head back to the 1700s or so.  Any time before 1796 will do."

"Why 1796?" asked Seville.  "You pick that date out of a hat or something?"

"I told you, I did research.  I found a page from an old cookbook that contained a recipe for pumpkin pie.  One with a crust and everything.  That book was published in 1796 so we need to go back in time before then.  A few years before then would be great.  Aim for 1790 or so.  That should give us plenty of time."

Nissy shoved the page from the cookbook into Seville's paw.  "Here, you'll need this.  It should help with the locational co-ordinates.  Make sure we teleport to the right place."


"On it, bro.  Let me see...  Yup, yup...  yup, this'll work.  I'll squish the paper into the egg beater right about here.  Done."

"Excellent work, Seville."  Nissy snatched two bags from the kitchen floor and placed them carefully into the frying pan before climbing in, himself.  "Come on Seville.  Time's a wastin'!"

Seville began to rev up the egg beaters.  "Grab a whisk, Nissy and start whisking."

The kitchen lights flickered momentarily before everything went dark.  Suddenly, bright explosions of light flashed before the cats' eyes.  The small perpetual calendar Seville had attached to the frying pan dashboard started to spin wildly.  2013...  2001...  1978...  1902...  1841... 

Over the sound of  howling wind, Seville cried out to Nissy, "YOU HAVE CONTROL OVER THAT CALENDAR?  BE READY TO STOP IT AT 1790!"

"GOTTA GO BACK JUST A TAD BEFORE THEN," Nissy hollered back, slamming a paw over the gizmo when it reached 1775.  "ARE WE IN THE RIGHT GEOGRAPHICAL AREA?  IS THIS NEW ENGLAND?  HOLD US STEADY IN THIS TIME WHILE WE FLY OVER THESE FIELDS.  CAN YOU HANDLE IT ON YOUR OWN?"

"GOT IT COVERED, NISSY."

The wind was creating terrible turbulence and the two cats found it difficult to hold onto the edges of the frying pan.  They were being buffeted back and forth between conflicting time lines.  Nissy held onto the pan with his back paws while using his front ones to empty out the contents of the paper bags he had secreted into the teleportation device earlier.  "PLANTING THE NIP SEED NOW," he cried out to Seville.  The nip seed was dispersed over the fields below by the winds of time.  "NOW GET US BACK TO 1790!" he yelled to his brother.  "PUT US IN REVERSE!"

Seville grabbed the frying pan handle and swung it over to his left before yanking it upwards.  The teleportation device came to a screeching halt and the two cats were thrown into the field of catnip that lay before them.  Nissy breathed in deeply.  Ahhh...  the sweet smell of nip.  "The nip seeds grew well," he smiled smugly.

"How did all this nip get here?" asked Seville?  "You just planted it a few seconds ago."

"Au contraire, mon frere," Nissy grinned.  "I planted the seed in 1775.  We're in 1790 now."

Nissy breathed in deeply again.  How he would love to just hang out in this field for a few hours but there were things to be done.  They couldn't afford to get nipped now.  "Come on Sivvers," he said, hauling his brother through the field.  "Part one of my plan is complete.  Now for part two."

The boys trudged through the vast field of nip.  European nip that had now been successfully introduced into the Americas by none other than Nissy, himself.   What an accomplishment for a little sterling silver tabby cat.

Before long, they came upon another field.  One in which pumpkins grew.  Pumpkins that were perfectly sized for using in pies.  Nissy knew then that his plan was going to succeed.  This was clearly pumpkin pie making territory.  All that needed to be done now was to make a few adjustments to the traditional recipe for making those pies.  A few adjustments to the recipe that would one day be published in the cookbook he had found in the local library's archives. 

After walking another half hour or so, they spotted a small house off in the distance.  The boys instinctively knew that this house was their destination.  In this house, the future of pumpkin pie would change forever.

Although near exhaustion, they ran toward the house as quickly as their paws would carry them.  They stopped short at the door.  Nissy knocked, politely.  A woman named Amelia answered but looking only straight ahead, she didn't see the two cats down at her feet.  She glanced both to her right and to her left, never noticing Nerissa and Seville padding softly into the house and hiding behind various pieces of furniture.

Night fell and the woman retired to bed.  Nissy prodded at Seville who had fallen asleep under a large chair.  "Come on Sivvers.  This is our chance.  We've gotta help Amelia with her pies."

Nissy found Amelia's notes for her upcoming cookbook and got to work right away.  "We just need to make a few changes to this recipe," he told his brother.  "Just a few changes here and there before the manuscript is sent off to the publisher."

Grabbing a pen on the writing desk, he began to write.  "Hmmm...  cloves?  Nah, scratch that.  We'll replace the cloves with nip.  Nutmeg?  Nope, don't need that either.  We'll replace that with nip, too.  Cinnamon...  I definitely think that could be replaced with the nip."  Nerissa scratched out the unnecessary ingredients and quickly did some mental calculations as to how much catnip would be needed and wrote it down.    "Okay, we've got pumpkin, eggs, sugar, cream and a cup of nip."

"A cup?  That sure is a lot of nip, Nissy," mentioned Seville.

"Don't worry, Sivvers.  The effects will all cook out...  MOUSES!  We don't want that to happen.  Hmmm...  we had better add another quarter cup of fresh nip to the whipped cream that goes on top," Nissy muttered before finishing his task.  He tucked the recipe back into Amelia's notebook and placed the notebook exactly where he had found it an hour before.

Seville sniffed the air.  "Nissy," he began.  "I'm sure I smell some yummy smells coming from the kitchen.  I think that Amelia lady roasted up a turkey or something.  Do you think we could have a bite or two before heading back to 2013?  A cat doesn't wanna teleport on an empty stomach, if you know what I mean."

"I know exactly what you mean, Seville and you're absolutely right.  Let's go enjoy a little snack.  It's a long walk back to the egg beaters and we need to keep up our strength."

Munching on roasted turkey, the boys thought about all they had accomplished on their adventure.  Nissy knew that if all went as planned, they would return to a new version of the year 2013 where pumpkin pies were filled with cream and catnip and not ruined with all those spices that couldn't possibly equal the brilliance of the world's greatest herb of all time...  nip.  Oh, they had done well on this adventure.  So very, very well.  Thanksgiving dinners would be changed forever but changed for the good.  Most definitely changed for the good.  It would be a very HAPPY THANKSGIVING for everyone.

messin' with whisks

I knew something was up.  I couldn't quite put my paw on it but I knew that somethin' was amiss.  The peep was up to somethin' and peeps bein' up to stuff is never good news for cats unless, of course, that somethin' is somethin' we told 'em to do.  This, unfortunately, was not the case.  I haven't told Ol' Peepers to do anythin' out of the ordinary as of late.

It all began yesterday.  Truth be told, I believe it began long before that but my suspicions were first aroused, yesterday morning. 

I softly padded into the kitchen and overheard the two peeps talkin' to one another.  They hadn't heard me enterin' the room so I stood quietly and listened in on their conversation.  Had to make sure no one was talkin' about trips to the doctor or anythin' like that, you see.  One must always be wary of bein' ambushed by peeps, stuffed in a carrier and taken against one's will to the doctor.  No mention of the doctor but the subject of the calendar was brought up.  Now, I know from past experience that peeps tend to write down the times of doctors' appointments on calendars.  This was going to require some investigation on my part.

I gazed up at the wall.  There was the calendar, dangling down, taunting me but remaining just out of my reach.  Not this again, I thought.  Last time I needed to look at that calendar, I had to get a boost up from my brother Rushton.  I glanced around but Rushy was nowhere to be seen.  Probably outside chasin' leaves or somethin'.  MOUSES!

Could I scale the wall, I pondered.  Probably not.  A cat could seriously hurt himself tryin' to scale walls.  Better not attempt that.  Much easier to scale a peep.

Like a flash, I appeared by Peep #1's feet.  I looked up at her with that look I reserve for just such occasions.  Success!  She reached down and scooped me up in her arms, lavishin' the kisses and cuddles upon me.  I squirmed like a worm.  Ewww...  peep kisses.  MOUSES!

Once settled in her arms, I telepathically controlled my peep to walk me over to the wall holding the calendar.  Like a robot, she acquiesced.  I glanced over her shoulder and peered at the dates.  Nope...  no...  uh-uh...  nothing 'bout doctors on that page.

I was just about ready to will her to turn to the month of November when I realised that she was still jabberin' away to Peep #2.  "We gain an hour next week, not tomorrow," she said.

Gain an hour?  Oh, it's the time change thingy.  Just peeps fiddlin' with clocks and time zones and whatnot.  I squirmed in her arms again, lettin' her know I wanted down.  Nothin' to worry about after all.  WRONG!

Walkin' into the sunroom, a glimpse of white caught my eye.  What's that?  Hmmm...  a Christmas cactus?  No, it can't be.  We haven't even had Hallowe'en yet.  Christmas cacti can't be bloomin' at this time of year.

I glanced over at my brother Seville.  He had an awfully smug look on his face as he sat there, hangin' out on the chair next to the peep's gardenia.

MOUSES!  The gardenia was covered in flower buds.  I inspected it more closely.  Eighteen, nineteen, twenty...  I stopped countin' at twenty.  This can't be right.  Buds on the gardenia at this time of year?  Surely not.

Then I looked over at the plumeria that have managed to infest my sunroom, taking over all the best sunpuddles.  Even the big ones are still kind of small so it's pretty easy for me get my nose right in there and check 'em out.  Needed to make sure they were headin' into a state of dormancy like they're supposed to do every fall.  What's this?  And this?  Leaves?  New leaves?  They're pushin' out leaves at this time of year?  MOUSES!

I raced to the window and looked out.  I needed to make sure that it was, in fact, still fall.  It sure did look like fall out there.  Many of the trees were already bare and the lawn was strewn with leaves.  Whew, fall was still here.  I hadn't napped through an entire season or anything like that.

I thought for a moment.  Outside it was fall.  The calendar said it was October.  But inside I had a Christmas cactus blooming like it was December, plumeria throwin' out leaves like it was summer and a gardenia full of buds like it was somethin'...  well I wasn't quite sure what that somethin' was but I was pretty sure it wasn't fall.  What the...

Then I remembered the conversation between the peeps.  The conversation about that hour bein' gained.  An hour...  a unit of time...  time..  WHISKS!

I ran into the kitchen and hopped up onto the island.  Pullin' open a drawer with my paw I peered inside.  Where were the whisks?  WHERE WERE THE WHISKS?  I looked around, frantically.  There was a whisk over on the counter.  What had he done?  WHAT HAD HE DONE?

"Sivvers!"  I cried aloud. 

The peep looked over at me, somewhat amused.

"There's nothin' amusin' about messin' with whisks!" I told the peep.  "Sure, it's all fun and games for a while.  All fun and games until someone gets tangled up in the wrong time-space continuum, that is."

The peep didn't reply.

I ran back into the sunroom and looked out the window.  Where there had been blue sky minutes before, menacing clouds had appeared.  A storm was brewing.  A nasty time front was approaching.  An angry time front was approaching.  What had Seville done?  What had he done? 

In an obvious attempt to screw around with the time lines within the house, tryin' to get stuff to bloom when stuff shouldn't be bloomin', he and the peep had been messin' with whisks.  Who knew what damage they had caused and whether or not said damage would be permanent.  A shiver ran down my spine and as a cat, I have a really long spine.  The tip of my tail was still tingling as the rain started to fall.  It had begun...