the purge

Way back when, when the dinosaurs roamed the earth...

Nah, that's not right.

Way back when, when Peep #1 was merely a kitten...

Nope, still not right.  Besides, those two things are pretty much the same thing.

Way back when, in days of yore...

NOW we're talkin'.

MOUSES!


So anyway...

So anyway, maybe like two or three years ago, I remember when tweetin' cats were losin' litters of kittens...  I mean, followers, on Twitter.  A kitty would wake up one mornin' and BAM!  Two followers gone.  Next mornin'?  BAM!  Another three!  The mornin' after that?  BAM!  And another had disappeared.

IT WAS A TWEETIN' NIGHTMARE, FOR SURE.

I remember bein' particularly upset one mornin', when this cute little calico kitty from Moscow I had been tweetin' with, disappeared without warnin'.  One day she was there, and the next, she was gone.  Gone.  GONE, I tell you.  Gone.

Gone like a nip cheese pizza in a room full of kitties.

MOUSES!

Of course, a few days after that, another cat with the same name started followin' me, but believe you me, this new cat was no cat at all.

I had to block her account and everythin'.

MOUSES!

Imagine, Peeps Postin' Pictures of themselves nekkid.

MOUSES!

And that, my friends, was The Great Twitter Purge of...

Whatever that year was.

MOUSES!

And speakin' of purges...

Last year, at my house, we had The Great Purge of 2017.

Let's just say, since then, Peep #1 no longer buys that kinda kibble.

MOUSES!

But ANYWAY...

So anyway, I awoke this mornin' to screams of...

Okay, so they weren't really screams.  It was more like a lot of hollerin'.

Well...  In all honesty, it was more like a few quiet murmurings.  Here and there.  That kinda thing.

But quiet murmurings or not, I immediately headed over to Twitter, for I was afraid there was another purge goin' on.  I was afraid I was losin' my followers!

Turns out, I had actually gained some.

MOUSES!

Actually, lots of my pals had.

MOUSES!

And speakin' of pals...

I don't say it often enough, my friends, but do you know somethin'?  I have THE BEST PALS in the world.  Have I ever told you that, my friends?  Even if I have, I know I haven't told you nearly enough.

You, my friends, are as real to me as my fur-sibs and peeps.

Although truth be told, I kinda like most of you, better.

MOUSES!

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

Yeah, yeah...  I love you, too.

MOUSES!

two in the mornin'

You ever wake up in the middle of the night, feelin' the need to tweet?

Nah, me neither.

MOUSES!

         *********

Sometimes though, I do wake up in the middle of the night, feelin' the need for a snack.

Now when I say snack, I mean a few pieces of dry kibble, and a lick or two of water, on account of the restaurant not bein' open at two in the mornin'.

Well that's what the peep says anyway.

I mean about the restaurant.

About it not bein' open, that is.

BUT I'M WORKIN' ON CHANGIN' THAT.

Like I told the peep this mornin', "You know, it might just be two in the mornin' here, but I bet it's already breakfast time in France."

Yeah, the peep didn't go for that one either.  MOUSES!

But who says breakfast can't be served at two in the mornin', anyway?  Who says we have to wait 'til seven or eight?  It's not like there's a law against servin' breakkies at two, is there?

Seriously, is there?  Anyone know?

Hmmm...  I think it's probably more like a rule.

And RULES, my friends, are meant to be broken. MOUSES!

And who made up the stupid rule, anyway?  Some stupid peep?  Some stupid peep who didn't want to get up in the middle of the night to serve me my breakkie at two?

Yeah, I bet that was it.  Then said stupid peep came up with some arbitrary time - that was convenient for them - and turned it into a rule.

That's just the kind of thing a stupid peep would do.

No Peepers, I'm not callin' you stupid.

But if the shoe fits...

MOUSES!

Oh yeah, you don't wear shoes to bed.

Well I don't wear shoes at all.  So there!  MOUSES!

Well OF COURSE I'm not makin' any sense.  I've been up since two in the mornin', practically dyin' of starvation, 'cause all I could find to eat was a measly pawful of kibble.  MOUSES!

The lack of food is makin' me delusional.

If only these paws could learn how to open tins...

Hey Peepers!  If you're too lazy to get up at two in the mornin' to prepare me a tasty little snack, how 'bout hirin' someone else to...

YOU DON'T HAVE TO YELL.  MOUSES!

My gosh she's touchy this mornin'.  Cranky as all get out, for sure.  You'd think SHE was the one kept up all night due to a rumblin' tummy.  A tummy rumblin' on account of it bein' empty as empty can be, and in serious need of a snack.  A snack better than a measly pawful of kibble, followed by two slurps of water.  Water without ice, I might add.

Truth be told, had Peep #1 gotten up when I FIRST started askin' her to get up, she could have prepared me that snack, then gone straight back to bed.  Then she could have slept through the rest of the night.

But oh no, not my peep.  Instead of haulin' herself out of bed at two, as requested, she chose to repeatedly tell me - FOR OVER AN HOUR - that the restaurant doesn't open 'til eight.

And what restaurant is this anyway?

No, seriously, I'd really like to know. 'Cause at least in a restaurant, a kitty gets to read a menu and select the breakkie of his or her choice, rather than bein' stuck with whatever some peep plops onto a plate before sayin', breakfast is served, without so much as a smile upon their face.

Talk about poor service.

And the peep wonders why I never leave her a tip.

MOUSES!

the retraction

OH MY MOUSES!  Get a grip woman, would ya? You'd think you were one of those Real Housewives of Beverly Hills or somethin'.  Now those women have REAL troubles, for sure. MOUSES!

I mean, if you can bicker over somethin' someone once did to you ages and ages ago -  for an entire evenin' - whatever that somethin' someone once did, it must have been pretty moused up, if you ask me.  MOUSES!

And speakin' of moused-up troubles, have you met my long-haired marmie brothers?

You know, I should have my own television show.  One of my very own.  Seriously, I should, 'cause I can bicker with the best of 'em, for sure.

I can do a pretty good smacky paw, too.

And speakin' of smacky-paws, have you met my long-haired marmie brothers?

Why just the other day, one of those long-haired marmie brothers of mine...

What's that, Andy?  Oh yeah...  You're right.  Sorry 'bout that.

Hey, what can I say?  Even a broken clock is right at least once a day.

But by broken clocks, I am not talkin' about me.  No sirree.  Nothing 'bout me is broken. MOUSES!

However, I will retract my last statement.  Yup, I will make a full retraction, forthwith.

Regardin' my insinuation that recent smacky-paw events occurring at my house involved my long-haired marmie brothers...  Well, they didn't.  I am hereby retractin' that statement, and issuing an apology to both Anderson and Rushton.  As I was reminded, about five minutes ago, said smacky-paw events were actually between myself and my sister Mason.  MOUSES!

What are you blatherin' on about now, Andy?  I apologised.  Are you satisfied with nothin'?

Nope, that there retraction on my blog is gonna have to do it.  It's not like I tweeted out the mistake to all and sundry on Twitter.  MOUSES!

Sundry.  Sundry.

It's an alternative spellin' for Sunday.

Kinda.  Sort of.  Okay, maybe not.  MOUSES!

Now where was I?

Oh yeah, I was talkin' about the smacky-paws.  The other day, I smacked my sister Mason real good, for sure.

Darn it.  I need to print another retraction.

Regardin' my last statement, what I should have said was, I smacked my sister Mason really well, for sure.

Whew!  That was close.  I could already hear the Grammar Police sirens off in the distance.

But back to those smacky-paws.  SHE STARTED IT!!!  'Nough said.  MOUSES!

What's that, Andy?  Why did Mason smacky-paw me in the first place, you ask?

Well...  Uh...  Actually...

Actually, I kinda think she was smackin' me back.

Pardon me, Andy?  Why did I smacky-paw Mason, causin' her to smacky-paw me back, you ask?

Well...  Uh...  Actually...

Let me get back to you 'bout that.

Oh yeah!  NOW I remember.  Mason made a comment 'bout me that I didn't like.  She did. Something 'bout my LORDIN' MY BLOG over the rest of you cats.  So I smacked her real good, for sure.

MOUSES!  Again, I meant, I smacked her really well, for sure.

That's better.  Another close call with those darned Grammar Police.  Next thing I know, I'll have the Merriam-Webster Dictionary on my tail.  MOUSES!

Say that again, Andy?  What does my lordin' my blog over the rest of you cats mean, you ask?

Well...  You know how I...

Um...  Never mind.  You don't need to know 'bout that.

But now that I think about it, I don't think Mason was the one who came up with the comment 'bout my lordin' my blog over the rest of you cats.  Truth be told, I think she was just repeatin' somethin' someone else said.  Somethin' someone with long-haired marmie-coloured fur said.

SMACK!!!

But on the other paw, now that I think about it a little more, maybe Mason was actually repeatin' somethin' the peep said.  Yeah, that was it.  Mason told me she heard Peep #1 say' somethin' about my lordin' my blog over the rest of you cats.

Hmmm...  But I can't smack a peep. That would be like bitin' the paw that feeds you and all that.  But I'm really, really, REALLY feelin' the urge to give someone a right good smack.   HMMM...

SMACK!!!

Sorry 'bout that Andy.  That was an alternative smack.  MOUSES!