I'm meltin'! I'M MELTIN'!

I'm melting!  I'M MELTING!

Yup, that's just what I heard.

Yeah, that's right: ol' Peepers, here, was yelling 'bout how she was meltin' on account of her gettin' rained on, and in true witchy-woo form, once she got all wet from the rain, she...

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

FINE.  Okay, so Peepers didn't get rained on.

FINE.  Okay, so Peepers didn't yell she was meltin' on account of bein' rained on, either.  In fact, she wasn't yellin' she was meltin', at all.  Nor was she actually meltin'.

Or so she says.

FINE.  So it's not actually rainin'.  In fact, the sun is shinin' and it's a beautiful day.

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

You want me to take back the bit 'bout your bein' in true witchy-woo form?  The bit that insinuates you might, in fact, be like a...

You know...

Witch?

BUT I CAN'T LIE TO MY READERS LIKE THAT.

MOUSES!

FINE.  Peepers isn't a witch.

Or so she says.

MOUSES!

Okay, so here's what's really goin' on: the sun is shinin', the temperature is above zero, and there's a snowman out there in the yard who is meltin' and yellin' as loudly as he can, hopin' Peepers and I will take out some ice for him to help him keep his cool.

Yeah, yeah...  That's who it was.  It was a snowman yelling 'bout how he was meltin'.

Yeah, a snowman.  That's what I said.

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

BUT MY READERS EXPECT MORE EXCITEMENT ON MY BLOG THAN THAT.

MOUSES!

Lookie here, Peepers.  Leave the writin' to me, will you?  You don't know the first thing 'bout writin' an excitin' blog post.  You don't know the first thing!

Nor the second, nor third.  Not even the fourth!

PEEPERS, EVEN REALITY TV IS MORE EXCITIN' THAN THAT.

And reality TV is real, Peepers.  Real as in reality.  Real is what reality means, you know.  You can't get more real than that.

Or so they say.

MOUSES!

FINE.

FINE!

I said, fine, didn't I, Peepers?

FINE.

Okay, so here's what's really happening 'round here: NOTHIN'.  Nothin' at all.  Nothin' but nothin' is happenin' around here.

MOUSES!

Well yeah, the sun is shinin'.

And yeah, it is a really nice day.

And yeah, the snow is meltin' out there.  Not snowmen, though.  Just snow, and...

On the other paw, if there were any snowmen out there, they WOULD likely be meltin', too.

Just not yelling 'bout their meltin' to anyone who might hear.

You know, on account of the pebbles used to make their mouths havin' fallen to the ground once the snow holdin' said pebbles had melted away.  And as everyone knows, once your mouth falls off, it's kinda hard to yell.

And that's why the HORRENDOUS, TERRIFIED CRIES OF ANGUISH from melting snowmen always go unheard, and...

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

Peepers, if I've told you once, I've told you a million kajillion times, times ninety-two: LEAVE THE WRITIN' TO ME.

Hyperbole?

Never heard of it.

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.

my muse

Have you ever wondered...

Have you ever wondered...

Have you ever happened to wonder how I, Seville the Cat, come up with ideas for my blog posts twice a week?  What inspires me?  What is my muse?  My muse I use to create that with which I amuse?

Funny you should ask that, my friends.  Yup, it's funny you should ask that, for sure; on account of my wonderin' about it, myself, just this mornin', and...

Okay, so I wasn't so much wonderin' as I was thinkin', on account of my already knowin' how I come up with my ideas and therefore not needin' to wonder how I do it.  But thinkin' about such things is what a cat like me does.  Yup, I am one thinkin' cat, for sure.  You know, on account of my thinkin' all the time 'bout a myriad of stuff INCLUDIN' my upcomin' blog posts and how lucky...

Lucky?

Hmmm....

Fortunate, maybe.

Hmmm...

Deservin'.

*snaps claws*

That's it!

MOUSES!

Actually, perhaps derservin' isn't the right word, after all.  Do I DESERVE to live with a couple of super silly, foolish, accident-prone - maybe even a little hapless - peeps who provide me with endless ideas for blog posts on account of their bein' so...

Well...

Well what I said above.

MOUSES!

I guess what I really am is observant.

Yeah, observant.  Observant is the right word, for sure.

Yup, I'm one extra-special, super-duper observant cat; SO WHEN THE PEEPS do stupid stuff - which appears to come quite naturally to them - I'm right there with pen and paper in paw, ready to take it all down and turn it into a blog post for all my wonderful readers out there to read.

Oh sure, sometimes I embellish a bit.  A teeny tiny bit, perhaps.  A really minuscule, teeny tiny, so-small-you-almost-can't-see-it bit.   Sometimes I might add just a tad of a little somethin'-somethin' here and there for effect, but...

But mainly...

But mainly, I just tell it like it is.

Yup, the peeps really are that silly and stupid and stuff.

Turns out, when a kitty has peeps like mine, there's really no need for said kitty to embellish.

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.

terrible twos

Peepers walked into my office, wanting to know what Rushy and I were up to.  She looked over at my brother, concern written all over her face.  "Rushton, why are your cheeks puffed out like that?  Do you have a sore tooth?"

Gasping for air, Rushy fell to the floor.  "No.  NO!  No, no dental.  No dental required," he wheezed, limply holding one front paw in the air.  "I was only holding my breath," and he wheezed some more.

The peep narrowed eyes.  "Why?" she asked, suspiciously.

Not that the peep asked why in a suspicious manner, but rather, she WAS suspicious when she was doin' the asking.

"Can't talk now!" and Rushy took a giant gulp of air in preparation to hold his breath once more.

Well he must have swallowed that air 'cause then came the hiccups.  MOUSES!
 
Yup, saw that one comin' a mile away.

I stopped typing long enough to turn around in my chair and look at the peep.  "Peepers, he's threatening to hold his breath until he passes out unless I promise to stop blogging about him.  Or at least, until I promise to stop writing embarrassing things about him on Nerissa's Life."

The peep and I locked eyes.

"You wanna tell him, or shall I?" I asked her.

Scooping my long-haired freak of a brother up in her arms, Peepers said, "Rushton, stop that right now.  Take a breath for goodness sake.  You NEED to breathe."

Moments before again almost passing out, Rushton obliged and took a deep breath.

The peep sighed and gave Rushy a scratch under his chin.  "Yeah, that's not going to work," she whispered in his ear.

"TOLD YOU!" I cried, looking up from the computer screen.  "Told you your threats weren't gonna work, Rushy.  You should have listened to me in the first place."

"Rushy," began the peep, "you can't use the threat of doing something that will hurt you more than it will hurt the person - or in this case cat - you're threatening."  She held up a paw...  I mean, hand.  "Not that I want you doing anything to hurt Seville.  I don't want you to do anything where you'll hurt yourself, either.  Rushton, threatening to hold your breath until you pass out can only hurt you, so Seville isn't going to feel very threatened by your...  Well...  Threat."

Rushy appeared to mull over the peep's words for a bit before saying, "But I've watched people do exactly that on TV.  More than once, too!"

Peepers furrowed her brow.  "What have you been watching?  Shows on parenting?  Programs about dealing with the terrible twos?"

Rushy shook his head back and forth.  "No, I've been watching the news.  Politics, I think."

The peep rolled her eyes and under her breath, muttered, "Oh."

Still sitting at the computer, I shook my head in disgust.  "Tsk tsk."

"But Peepers..." Rushy whined like a toddler on catnip, "I watched on TV where some guy was ranting and raving and flinging his arms in the air and making all sorts of threats just to get what he wanted, and..."

"DID he get what he wanted?" the peep asked.

Rushy pondered the peep's question.  "I think we find that out in season two."

I imagined the peep was rolling her eyes again but didn't turn 'round to look, on account of my busily typing.  "Rushy, what was that you said, again?  Can you repeat that last line?  I want to make sure I use your exact words so that..."

"THAT DOES IT!" yelled my brother.  "See what he's doing, Peepers?  He's writing about me on his blog again!  He's making me look bad."

"Not bad," I denied.  "Silly, perhaps, but not bad.  At least not in an evil kinda way.  But seriously, I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried."

"PEEPERS..." wailed Rushy.

"PEEPERS..." I furiously typed.

"PEEPERS..." Rushy cried again, this time more loudly.

At that point I turned 'round.  "Rushton, your dialogue is gettin' a little repetitive.  You wanna come up with...."

BEEP!  BEEP!  BEEP BEEP BEEP!  BEEP!

"An expletive or two?  That'll do.  Mouses Rushy, I didn't even know you knew words like that."

The peep suddenly appeared by my side, her paw...  I mean, hand, hoverin' over the keyboard.  "I think that's enough blogging for today, Seville."  Her words were quiet but firm.  She obviously meant business.  MOUSES!

"FINE," and I started to shut down the computer.  "But since I'm apparently done writing for the day, you think you could rustle up some snacks for your two favourite kitties?"

"You're pushing it, Seville, but okay."

Leaving my office with the peep trailing behind, I elbowed Rushton in his side.  "Hey Rushy, I dare you to eat whatever Peepers gives us in like...  Uh...  One minute.  Yeah, I dare you to scarf it all done."

"Okay Sivvers, but eating that quickly, I'll likely hork it right back up."

I smiled to myself.  Next week's blog post was practically writing itself.

MOUSES!

writer's block

Of all the no good, good for nothin' antics.

Of all the stupid ol' stupid things a peep can do.

Of all the...

Awww...  MOUSES!

As many of you know, I, Seville the Cat, have been busy writing my first full length adventure these last few months.  Busy, busy, busy like a bee, I've been.  Only busier, of course, on account of bees not bein' able to write books.

MOUSES!

So anyway, the other day, I encountered the age old problem WE WRITER TYPES sometimes encounter.

WRITER'S BLOCK.

MOUSES!

Okay, so it wasn't so much writer's block, as it was...

Well...

Writer's barricade?

MOUSES!

Now what, pray tell, is writer's barricade, you ask?

Good question!  And luckily for you, I have an answer, too.  Writer's barricade is when a bloggin' kitty such as myself who is authoring his very first book, goes to work on said book, and finds some STUPID OL' PEEP using HIS computer for her own selfish needs.

Needs.  Reasons.  Excuses.  Whatever.

Well she called them reasons, but really and truly, they were nothing more than excuses and FLIMSY excuses at that.

MOUSES!

So I, bein' the Gentlecat that I am, GRACIOUSLY left Peep #1 to work on whatever stupid ol' stupid stuff she was workin' on, and politely stomped out of the room sayin' mouses this and mouses that under my breath.

MOUSES!

A whole ten minutes later...

Ten minutes later, I again entered the room, ASSUMING the peep would be done with whatever stupid stuff she was doing, and that my writer's barricade would be gone.

But OF COURSE, she wasn't.  Wasn't done using the computer, that is.  OH NO, the peep was still typing away without even a HINT of concern about MY NEEDIN' that computer to work on my book.  Inconsiderate or what?

MOUSES!

So I sat there and stared at the peep.

But alas, she paid no attention to me.  *Sighs, LOUDLY*

So I sat there even longer, continuing to stare at the peep.

And when I say stare, I really mean, I was boring into the back of her head with my laser sharp vision.

EVENTUALLY, the peep relented and my writer's barricade was gone.

I KNEW my staring at her would do the trick!

Now unlike MY gracious and polite Gentlecat behaviour, the peep, bein' a peep, muttered something stupid about something undoubtedly stupid, and stormed out of the room.

Okay, so it wasn't so much a storm as a...  Um....  Unsettled weather.

But rude?  Oh yeah, it was rude, all right.  The peep was rude as all get out!

Which she did, eventually.  Get out, that is.  The peep GOT OUT of my office and left me alone to work on my book in peace.

My writer's barricade was finally gone.

And THANK GOODNESS for that, 'cause I, Seville the Cat, have an incredibly important novel to write.

MOUSES!

the scandalous cad

So there I was in my office, workin' hard on my blog and totally mindin' my own business, when...

Yeah, I was TOTALLY mindin' my own business.

When alarm bells started doin' their dingin'.  There were alarm bells and sirens, EVERYWHERE.  There was even an alert on the television.

MOUSES!

Okay, so maybe there weren't actually any alarms or sirens doin' their dinger.  And maybe there wasn't a TV alert, either.  MAYBE it was really more of a case of the first peep walkin' into my office and openin' her mouth.

Of course, when Peep #1 opens her mouth, what comes out can kinda sound like the screechin' of a siren, for sure.

It's a proven fact, you know.  And I'm not the only one who says it.

MOUSES!

But I digress.  Let's get back to that alarming message.

So there I was, hard at work on my blog, when Peep #1 said, "Hey Sivvers, did you read what some guy wrote on your Facebook page?"

Of course, I immediately raced over to my fan page, on Facebook, and started reading.

My jaw dropped.

My pallor paled.

My eyes started burning.

A torrent of tears streamed down my face, and in dismay I watched as they formed a puddle right there on the floor beneath me.

What?

Why?

HOW?

HOW COULD ANYONE WRITE SOMETHIN' AS NASTY AS THAT?

AND ABOUT ME, TOO.

MOUSES!

I looked at the post I had previously made 'bout how I was writin' a book-length adventure, and just below my good news...

Some STUPID GUY wrote...

He wrote...

MOUSES! 

Of all the good for nothin' guys out there...

In all the no good gin joints of the world...

AND HE HAD TO GO COMMENT ON MINE?

Okay, so my Facebook fan page isn't exactly a gin joint.

Isn't exactly?  It isn't at all.

And it certainly isn't no good.

But still... 

But still, I, Seville the Cat, was annoyed.

And rightly so, too.

Of course, that was AFTER my heart had been broken.

*sighs*

But the peep said to me, "Don't worry, Sivvers, keep your chin up.  There's always going to be that one guy who just can't help himself but to say something nasty."

And you know somethin'?

SHE WAS RIGHT! 

Which just goes to show you, there's a first time for everythin', for sure. 

MOUSES!

I mean, who does this guy think he is, anyway?  Has he written any books?  Does he know how to write?  Does he even know how to READ? 

MOUSES! 

So even though this stupid guy went and TOTALLY SPOILED the announcement 'bout my writin' a book... 

TOTALLY spoiled it, for sure. 

And even though he went and TOTALLY RUINED my good mood...

You know what?

I, Seville the Cat, am gonna forgive him.

'Cause truth be told, maybe, as the peep said, he just can't help himself.  Maybe he's just naturally nasty.

And MAYBE I can work his name into my book.

As a villain, of course.

Or perhaps as the victim.

Or MAYBE a SCANDALOUS CAD.

Who ends up at the bottom of very deep river, wearin' blocks of cement-fashioned shoes.

'Cause you know somethin', else?

THAT'S the kinda thing we writing types do.

MOUSES!

what cheek

What cheek.

What cheek!

MOUSES!

I'm tellin' ya, if I had a loonie for every...

Pardon me?  A loonie?  Yeah, a LOONIE.  You know, a loonie!  Loonies are what we Canadian kitties call dollars.

I don't know why.  We just do.

MOUSES!

Anyway...

Anyway, if I had a loonie for every cheeky squirrel I met, I'd be a fat cat, for sure.  And by fat cat, I mean rich, as in havin' lots of loonies.  Not as in...

I'M JUST BIG-BONED, OKAY?

MOUSES!

SO ANYWAY...

So anyway, if I had a loonie for every cheeky squirrel I met, I'd have my weight in loonies, for sure.

YOU KNOW HOW MUCH NIP THAT COULD BUY?

MOUSES!

Let me tell you what happened the other day.  There I was sittin' in my office, workin' on my upcomin' adventure, when...

When someone came a-knockin' on my office window.

Now my first thought was, What the mouses is the peep doin' knockin' on my window?  Then my second thought was, WHY the mouses is the peep knockin' on my window?  Then I heard the peep doin' somethin' in the kitchen.  Knowin' it wasn't the peep knockin' on my window, I thought to myself, WHO the mouses is knockin' on my office window?

Bein' a cat, curiosity got the best of me and I got up off my chair, and trotted over to said window, and you are NOT gonna believe what I saw.

There, sittin' in the little flower bed below the window, LAUGHIN' AT ME, was a squirrel.  One of those big grey ones.  You know, the ones with the big long fluffy tails.  And yes, he was laughin'.  And YES, he was laughin' at me.  I could tell on account of his pointin' at me through the window with one paw, and holdin' his tummy with the other, while laughin'.

MOUSES!

Okay, so maybe he wasn't actually doin' that finger pointin' thing.  And maybe he wasn't actually laughin', either.  Maybe he was actually just sittin' there, lookin' at me.

Well I wasn't gonna put up with that.

The next thing I knew, he was down on all four paws, headin' straight for me.

Or maybe he was really headin' for the window.  But anyway, I backed up just in time, 'cause let me tell you, my friends, that grey squirrel jumped up and tried to scale MY office window!

I think he thought he was Spider Man or somethin'.

Spider Squirrel?

Nah, "Spider Squirrel" sounds kinda unrealistic.

MOUSES!

Well like I said, I jumped back just in the nick of time, 'cause there was that squirrel, tryin' to climb up my window.  Then, OUT OF THE BLUE, a second grey squirrel arrived, and he was wantin' to climb up my window, too!

It was the weirdest thing I've ever seen, my friends.  The weirdest thing, for sure.  And believe-you-me, I''ve seen a lot of weird things in my nine lives.

You've MET my peeps, haven't you?

'Nough said.

MOUSES!

"OH PEEPERS...." I cried.  "Squirrels outside are lookin' for nuts.  They're probably lookin' for you."

MOUSES!

Clearly, the squirrels had been the ones knockin' on my office window, and CLEARLY, they were attemptin' to break inside.

WHAT WAS A KITTY TO DO?

Lickin' my lips, I briefly contemplated roasted squirrel with a creamy nip sauce for din-dins that night, but quickly thought the better of that.  That's the kinda thing that gets a kitty in trouble with the peeps, you see.

MOUSES!

Then I thought...

"BOO!"

Okay, so it wasn't so much a thought as an actual word.  Yup, an actual word I actually said out loud.  Although to be honest, it came out soundin' more like a meow.

But nevertheless, my meowy boo did the trick, for sure, for the next thing I knew, those two big grey squirrels were high-tailin'...

And when I say, high-tailin', I mean HIGH-tailin', for those squirrels had REALLY BIG HIGH-FLYIN' tails.

Anyway, the next thing I knew, the two squirrels were high-tailin' it down the driveway, headin' for the big ol' oak tree down by the road.

"AND DON'T EVEN THINK OF COMIN' BACK!" I yelled after 'em.  "UNLESS YOU WANNA BE SERVED FOR DINNER, THAT IS."


I sure told them, I thought to myself.  Won't see the likes of those two scoundrels for a long time to come.  Trottin' back to my desk, bein' VERY PLEASED with myself, I hopped up on the chair and got back to writing 'bout my upcomin' adventure.

Next thing I knew...

SOMEONE was a-knockin' on my office window.

AGAIN.

MOUSES!

whatcha doin'?

Whatcha doin' there, Peepers?  Writing something?  Anything that might be of interest to me?

Mouses Peepers, you've written absolutely nothing.  That there is what one would call a blank screen.  Blank as in, you know... blank.  Got nothing on it at all.

What am I talking about?  Actually, I think you mean about what am I talking but that aside, I'm referring to that ol' blank computer screen sitting there in front of you.  I hate to say it but you've got nothing but screen.

Now I know, if you were playing basketball or something and you had nothing but net, that might be a good thing but that's an entirely different matter, if you know what I mean.  MOUSES!

So anyway, Peepers, you need some help?  Let me go get my fee schedule for you and then we'll talk.  MOUSES!

Now first things first, Peepers.  Before you do anything else you need to put your paws on the keyboard and prepare yourself for typing.  You need to have paws at the ready, so to speak, for when inspiration hits you.  That's right, Lady Inspiration is gonna hit you and then you're gonna start hitting those keys.  That's how we professional writers do it, you see.

Secondly, close your eyes.  That's right, Peepers, close your eyes and wait for Lady Inspiration to strike

By the way, Peepers...  Perhaps I should have asked this first but uh...  You do know how to type with your eyes closed, right?  You do?  Excellent.  Not that it would matter much anyway considering how little you've typed.

What's that, Peepers?  Don't blame ME.  I'm not the one sitting there in front of a computer with a blank screen.  Clearly you have typed absolutely nothing and the proof is right there in front of you, in the form of that there screen with nothing on it.  MOUSES!

Peepers, would you like me to get you a cup of nip tea or something?  I find my writing is much better after having imbibed in a little nip, myself.  You think a little nip tea would help you, too, 'cause judging by that blank screen, you're in need of all the help you can get and...

Mason, stop distracting Peep #1 with your incessant questions about whatever you're questioning her.  She needs to concentrate on her writing, here, if she's ever gonna get anything done.

Okay Peepers, now we wait.  Yup, now we sit and wait.  We wait for Lady Inspiration to make an appearance.

Er-hmm...  Anything yet, Peepers?  I don't see your fingers moving.  You haven't typed a single word. Not even a letter.  Not even a punctuation mark or anything.  MOUSES!

We'll just wait a little longer then.

Anything now, Peepers?  Anything at all?

Peepers?  PEEPERS?  PEEPERS!!!  You still awake there, Peepers?  Just checking.

By gosh, it never takes me this long to come up with something about which to write.  I come up with a blog post twice a week, every week, and I can say with utmost certainty that I have never - EVER - taken this long to come up with a post.  Hmmm...

Peepers, anyone ever tell you you're not really cut out for this writing thing?  'Cause if no one else has told you, I might....

Peepers!  It's working!  Lady Inspiration has arrived.  The screen is...

Wait a minute.  Why is the computer screen going all dark and...

WHAT DID YOU DO?  That's my computer you're using and you've gone and...

Oh.  Oh?  What the mouses?  Uh Peepers, how come the computer is shutting down?  That's what the computer does when it shuts down.  How come it's doing that?  You haven't done any of your writing yet.

Really?  Well why the mouses did you not say that before?  For mousin' out loud.  MOUSES!

Next time when you've finished all your writing for the day and saved the file and are shutting the computer down when I come into the office Peepers, let me know BEFORE I waste all this time helping you write whatever you've already finished writing, okay?  My time could have been far better spent biffing a nippy biff bag around or something like that.  Actually, my time could have been far better spent taking a nap or pretty much anything else.  Truth be told, my time would have been better spent watching a bug sitting on a window - not that we have any bugs on windows at this time of year but still...  Suffice it to say, it would save a whole lot of effort on my part if I didn't need to help you when you're not actually in need of my help.

Not that you don't need my help.  I mean, you do tend to need my help on a daily basis, Peepers, especially when it comes to writing but still...

Just be sure that next time you speak up before we repeat what happened here.  No more repeat performances of this are allowed.  Okay?  Okay.  Now I think I'll go find myself a nip mouse or something 'cause let me tell you, I really need a nip mouse right about now and that, Peepers, is a fact, for sure.  MOUSES!

facing fear

So the peep has joined a local writer's group. Apparently, she was invited.  Invited.  The peep!  Can you believe it?  Don't they know that I, Seville the Cat, am the real writer in this here family?  MOUSES!

Anyway, Peep #1 joined this writing group and sure enough, right off the bat, she came begging - yes, BEGGING - to me for help.  Her exact words were, "Help!"  Okay, that was actually her exact word but you get my drift, I am sure.  MOUSES!

I have discovered that Peep #1 isn't used to writing stuff in her own voice.  When she writes, she writes fiction and hides behind either the plot or the characters or sometimes even both.  She never writes really serious stuff as I do and that, my friends, is why she needs my help.  As you all know, I write serious stuff all the time and when doing so, I use my own voice.

Dare I say it once more?  Sure, why not?  MOUSES!

So the scaredy-cat peep...

Hmmm...  Scaredy-PEEP is more like it.

So the scaredy-peep came running to me, begging for my assistance.  Figures.  We've been down this road before.

I, not being one to mince words simply said, "Give it here, Peepers.  I'll see what I can do."

Of course, the peep then complained, saying she simply needed help and wasn't asking me to do her homework for her to which I replied, "What do think I am?  Some kind of teacher?  MOUSES!"

Peep #1 then stomped out of my office in a huff as I called out behind her, "You'll get my bill in the mail!" although to be perfectly honest, I'll probably just paw it over to her and save myself a stamp.

So here I am, writing Peep #1's writing assignment for her.

Now Peep #1's writing assignment was about fear and/or courage.  Fear?  Courage?  Rather apropos, if you know what I mean.  Well at least the fear part is.

So let's get down to business and talk about this here thing called fear, shall we?  Let's talk about the peep's inability to write using her own voice.  Why she apparently can't do that.  Well the answer is clear.  It's all about fear.

That's right, the peep is too scared to write using her own voice.  Too scared to let other peeps see or hear what she really thinks and probably way too scared to hear any replies.  So when Peep #1 writes, she uses characters and plots to get her message across. Kind of a roundabout way of doing things if you ask me.

Now the peep would argue that I, Seville the Cat, use humour behind which to hide but quite frankly, I have to disagree.  I know there are peeps out there who do that but that kind of thing is simply not for me.  Firstly, I'm not a peep; I'm a cat.  Secondly, I use humour to entertain and not to hide.

If I were to hide behind something, I'd hide behind a piece of furniture or an appliance.  Or better yet, underneath one.  I mean, what is gonna protect me more?  A big ol' chunk of steel and wood or a little wee joke?  Seriously, think about it for a minute, would you?  Peeps can see right through jokes whereas they cannot see through carbon steel.  MOUSES!

Why just last week, my sister Constance had to visit the doctor again.  Yeah, she's been going there every week ever since she broke her leg but that's beside the point.  The thing is, Connie doesn't like going to see the doctor because - you guessed it - she's afraid.  She's scared.  It's all about fear.

But when Constance is scared, does she hide behind a joke as the peep falsely accuses me of doing?  Or does she hide behind some made-up character's voice as the peep actually does?  Of course not!  Connie is a cat and therefore, she's smart.  That's why when Connie hides, she hides behind furniture and appliances and the like.  In fact, last week Constance hid behind the chest freezer, the upright freezer, the trunks under the stairwell, underneath the living room chesterfield, behind those big old trunks a second time and even up on the ledge leading into the basement although truth be told, that last spot turned out not be a very good hiding spot at all as the peep could see her, plain as day, even if she was out of reach.  Bottom line is, forty minutes later, Connie had to go visit the doctor after all.

Now the lesson to be learned here is...  Peep #1 is way more persistent than anyone ever thought.

Scratch that.  A better lesson to be learned is that if you're going to hide, hide somewhere where you'll actually be hidden and not behind something silly like humour or someone else's voice or...

Nah, scratch that, too.  The REAL lesson to be learned here is that the best way to face fear is to do exactly that.  To simply face it.  Let me explain.

Six months ago, after my brother Nerissa's death, I was handed the reigns of this here blog, Nerissa's Life.  It was scary.  Scary as all get out.  I had never written a thing before in my life and now was expected to come up with a blog post twice a week, every week.  I didn't think I could do it at all.

But did I run?  Did I cower and hide?  Did I ask the peep to write my blog posts for me?

OF COURSE NOT!

I sat right down at the computer and tried to figure out how to turn it on.  Yeah, that part was hard, I have to admit, but once I had tackled the whole on/off switch thingy, I started writing right away.  I wrote and I wrote and I WROTE.  I wrote as much as my little paws could handle.  And once that was done, I discovered that I, Seville the Cat, could actually write after all.  There had never been any reason to be afraid.  There had never been anything to fear.

Six months later, I will admit that every now and then, I still do get a little scared about writing. Sometimes I'll find a topic I think might be too much to handle.  Sometimes I can't find a topic at all! Yeah, that can be really scary, for sure.  But as with all fears, the best way to overcome them is to face them.  To just go ahead and do it and that is exactly what I did.

So as I sit here at my desk, I'm wondering...  Should I press print and give this here text to the peep to hand in or should I go tell the peep that to overcome her fear, she needs to face that very fear itself. She needs to write about something serious, using her own voice and she needs to do it on her own.

I'm torn.  Torn between doing the right thing and pressing delete or doing the wrong thing, handing the peep this text and earning a little nip money on the side.  Decisions, decisions...  What to do?  What to do?

Hah!  Nip money always trumps all else.

"Oh Peepers....  I have your assignment for you.  And please pay with cash.  I don't accept cheques.  MOUSES!"

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

Yesterday was a bittersweet day at my house.  Yesterday would have been Nissy's fourth blogoversary had my amazing brother still been with us, writing this here blog.  Yesterday was a day that should have been full of celebrations but instead, it was marked with such sadness, for we all miss Nissy so very much.  purrs

pet peeves

I don't know, Peepers. Can you?

Yup, that's what I said. That's what I said to the ol' peep when she asked me if she could sit on the chair upon which I, Nerissa the Cat, was already sittin'.  Her exact words were, "Can I sit there, Nissy?"

So I looked at the peep and answered, "I don't know, you got a sore tail or somethin'?  If your tail is sore, perhaps you can't sit on this here wooden chair.  You should go grab yourself a spot on the nice, soft and comfy chesterfield, in the family room."

She ignored me but not before pickin' me up off my office chair and plunkin' me down on the floor. MOUSES!

Now to be honest, I really should be givin' Ol' Peepers a bit of slack 'cause truth be told, she's just a peep.  Also, perhaps she really did wonder about her ability to disturb a cat who was clearly occupyin' the aforementioned chair.  I should give her some slack but I'm not gonna on account of the pickin' up and plunkin' down business that followed her question.  Her very poorly worded question.  Not to mention how she ignored me, afterwards.  She never did answer my question 'bout her havin' a sore tail, you know.

What's that Peepers?  What did you say?  FINE.

I have been informed by the peep that I must clarify that she does not actually have a tail. MOUSES!

You know, Peepers, you do sometimes have a pony tail stickin' out of the back of your head.  Not that you ever sit on that one, though.  Again I must say, MOUSES!

So anywho...  back to the peep and her ability to sit down in a chair.  Clearly she is capable of sittin' in one 'cause after she so rudely picked me up and plunked me down on the floor, she sat right down in that ol' chair, herself.  Once more for good measure?  Sure, why not?  MOUSES!

Peeps and their questions.  If they're gonna ask questions, they should word 'em correctly.  What Peep #1 should have asked me was, "May I sit there, Nissy?"  Yes, she should have been askin' for my permission to sit on this here chair.  The chair upon which I am currently sittin' as I write up today's blog post.

Now truth be told, had Peep #1 asked correctly, I probably would have said no.  I mean, I was already sittin' on the chair.  The chair was already occupied.

But if we're talkin' truths here, we had best discuss the likelihood that the peep would have ignored my response, picked me up and plunked me down on the floor, anyway.  After all, she never did answer my tail question, remember?  Of course you do.

You know, peeps can be very inconsistent.  Peep #1 has sat on the family room floor on more than one occasion so as not to disturb a certain kitty lying on the chesterfield.  Why she is incapable of sittin' on my office floor, is beyond me.  Perhaps I should apply for a government grant to study that phenomenon or somethin'.

Hmmm...  YEAH!  I think I'll put submittin' that application on my to-do list, for sure.

Anywho...  Back to Peep #1's inability to ask a question, properly, and my ability to lie on the chesterfield.

That's right, I like to lie on the chesterfield.  No, I'm not tellin' fibs.  I'm lyin' as in lyin' down on the chesterfield.  Different kind of lyin', for sure.

But have you ever noticed how peeps are always wanting to lay things about, includin' themselves?  Weird, huh? Yes, definitely weird.

Peeps are always talkin' about how they're gonna lay down.  Layin' down here and layin' down there.  What I wanna know is...  WHAT ARE THEY LAYING???

I mean, you lay somethin' else down but when you, personally, are lying down, you're lyin'.  You're not layin'! You can lay your head down, sure, but you lie down, yourself.  And others lie down, themselves, too.

Now, I might pad into the family room to find my brother Anderson lying on the chesterfield and that is exactly what he's doin'.  He's lyin' there.  He's not layin'...

OH MY MOUSES!  I just figured out what all those peeps layin' about are doin'.  THEY'RE LAYIN' EGGS!!!  Who knew?  This certainly does explain how the Easter Bunny is able to accumulate so many eggs every year at Easter.

But back to my brother, Andy, and his habit of lying on the chesterfield in the family room.

It's not a bad habit, I suppose.  I wouldn't call it a vice or anythin'.  Just somethin' he likes to do. I, myself, have been known to do the very same thing.  I enjoy lyin' on the chesterfield as much as the next cat.  In fact, just the other day...

Just the other day, I padded into the family room and Anderson said, "Hey Niss!  Why don't you hop up here on the chesterfield with me?"

As you can imagine, I didn't have to be asked twice.  Moments later, there we were, snuggled up on the chesterfield, together.  Peep #1 walked in and thought she'd join Anderson and me but there wasn't enough room on account of us maximising our powers of sprawlability.  The peep had to sit on the floor.  MOUSES!

You know, that reminds me of another pet peeve of mine.  The misuse of the words I and me.  You ever hear peeps do that?  I imagine that you have on account of those words bein' misused an awful lot.

Now I could joke about it but believe you me, this is no joking matter.  At this very moment, there are fingernails scraping against chalkboards that are soundin' funnier than the misuse of the words I and me.

Instead of makin' a joke, I'll let you in on a little secret.  You wanna know an easy way to figure out which word to use?  Just drop the other cat's name and then ask yourself if you would use I or me. Whichever word it is, will be the correct word to use when the other cat's name is added again.

Let's see...  Anderson and I were lyin' on the chesterfield.  We know this to be true 'cause I would say that I was lyin' on the chesterfield.  I would never say, me was.  But the peep wondered if she could sit next to Anderson and me.  That's right, me and NOT I.  Why?  'Cause I would never say that she wondered if she could sit next to I.  See how easy that is?  Easy as catchin' a mouse in a house and MUCH easier than ever catchin' that darned red dot.  That, my friends, is right up there with the most impossible of missions.  MOUSES!

So there you have it.  My three biggest pet peeves.

Hmmm...  You ever wonder if anyone out there has a pet named Peeves? You know, it would be pretty funny if someone did.  Hello there, I'd like to introduce you to my pet, Peeves. Hehehehehee...  I should get myself a pet mouse or somethin' and name him Peeves.

WHAT A GREAT IDEA!

Oh Peepers...  We need to go to the store.  I need a mouse house and a... uh...  um...  Well, I might as well just come right out and say it.  I need a mouse.  I need a mouse for my house and I'm gonna name him Peeves.

of buses and tours and whatnot

"HANG ON!" cried Seville. "I'll get you on that bus on time.  Don't you worry about anything.  Just hang on with all your might.  We're gonna have to match our speed with the tour bus.  Once I'm alongside it, you jump onto the bus.  Got it?"

"What I've got," sighed Nissy, "is a marmie brother who doesn't know the difference between a bus tour and a writing tour.  MOUSES!"

"Seville, turn this flyin' fryin' pan back this instant and take me home," Nissy demanded.  "I've gotta get on-line and work on my blog post.  You know, my writing tour blog post?  The post needs to go up today and if you don't take me home immediately, it's gonna be late."

"So you mean that you don't need me to get you onto that tour bus?  But I thought..."

"You thought nothin'!  That's the whole trouble," explained Nerissa.

"But what about the packed suitcases?  Why pack your suitcases if you're not goin' on a bus tour?" Seville asked.

"I didn't pack any suitcases, Sivvers.  In fact, those suitcases don't even belong to me.  Don't know where you got 'em but I suggest you return them as soon as you return me to my office so that I can write today's blog post.  Come on Sivvers...  TAKE ME HOME!  I'm gonna be late."

Reluctantly, Seville turned the teleportation device back in the direction of home, all the while muttering to himself something about packed suitcases and trying to remember exactly where he had found them in the first place.

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

So anywho...  That was my mornin'.  How was yours?

You all know my pal Speedy, right?  Speedy who writes the amazin' blog, Speedy the Cheeky House Bunny?  Of course you know him.  I think everybody does.

Well about a week ago, Speedy asked me it I'd like to participate in this #mywritingprocesstour thingamajig and I immediately said yes.  I thought it sounded like fun.  Little did I know 'bout my brother Seville's fixation with tour buses and gettin' me on one.  MOUSES!

Now for the #writingprocesstour, I'm supposed to link back to Speedy's blog 'cause he invited me. I've done that up above.  Just click on his blog's name and you'll be transported over to his writing process post.  No flyin' fryin' pans, required.  Then I need to answer three questions and finally, invite three more bloggin' pals to join the tour.

Let's see 'bout answerin' those questions.

Question number one is, what am I workin' on?  What am I not workin' on, is more like it.

Hmmm...  Of course, I'm always workin' on developing new and innovative eggbeater-whisk time travelling-teleportation technology.  My brother, Seville, and I are leading experts in the field, you know.  I'm also busy perfecting my recipe for mulled nip cider.  As a true connoisseur of nip, I'm tryin' to develop the perfect blend of herbs and spices to accentuate the nippiness of the nip.  Haven't quite got it yet but I will.  Like I said, I'm workin' on it.

Oh.  You mean workin' on as it pertains to my writing.  MOUSES!  Sorry 'bout that.

Well...  I'm workin' on my blog. Publishin' twice a week, every week, keeps me pretty busy, writin' wise, especially when you take into account certain distractions such as... SEVILLE.

And speakin' of distractions, there's the peep.  Peep #1 is workin' on a little cosy mystery series featuring two characters she came up with for a couple of short stories that were published long ago, in ancient times, by a certain woman's magazine.  She's always tryin' to use the computer when I need it for my blog.  Like I said, the woman is a distraction.

Peep #1 also has a blog of her own called The Peep's Cheeps but she hardly ever updates it.  She's not consistent with her blog like I am with mine.  MOUSES!

The second question is, why do I write what I do?  But what else would I write?

I believe that every cat out there has a story and that that story needs to be written.  Stuff happens to cats, all the time, and peeps out there wanna read about it.

For example, take the story of my rescue.  Later this year, it's gonna appear in the book, Rescue Me:  The Stories of 12 Cats, Through Their Eyes, published by FitCat Publishing.  Like every rescue story, mine is poignant and touching and as luck would have it, it comes complete with a happy endin'.  Gotta love happy endings.  Peeps like reading 'bout stuff like that, I think.

I also like to write about fun stuff.  I enjoy makin' my readers smile.  Bringing a smile to someone's face is a beautiful thing and I try to do that in as many posts as I can.

You won't find Peep #1 writing about her life story.  It would be way too borin'.  Might pass as some sort of non-prescription sleepin' aid though.  MOUSES!

But Peep #1 and I do agree on the bringin' a smile to people's faces bit.  She and I both like to write stuff that's entertaining and will bring joy into the lives of our pals.  Sounds like a good thing upon which to agree.

The last question needin' answering is, how does my writing process work?  That's an interestin' question for which I don't really have a very interestin' answer.

Personally, I just write.  I don't have a real process.  I just sit down at the computer and write.  For the most part, I write as if I'm chattin' with my pals.  I guess that's why I have sort of a colloquial style.  Peep #1 has never mastered the art of colloquial styling.  For goodness sake, I had to explain to her what colloquial meant in the first place.  MOUSES!

As far as comin' up with ideas and stuff, the ideas just sort of appear.  We cats are very observant creatures, you see. There are ideas floatin' around all over the place.  Just gotta see 'em and recognise that they can be turned into topics for writing.

For example, I heard on the news that the Canadian Senate is short a whole bunch of Senators 'cause the Prime Minister has not yet appointed them and I thought to myself...  I COULD DO THAT!  Thus, my blog post about why the Prime Minister should appoint me to the Senate.  Or like when I brought that chipmunk into the house a few weeks ago.  You should have seen the peep runnin' about, tryin' to catch the chippy.  It was hilarious!  I had to write about that.  Or quite often I'll spot the peeps doin' something silly.  They do silly stuff all the time.  Especially Peep #1.  You'd think her middle name was Silly or somethin' and she felt the undyin' need to live up to it on a regular basis.  Let's just say that my peeps provide me with a multitude of humorous blog topics on account of their propensity to do stupid stuff and leave it at that.

As far as the peep's writing process goes, I haven't got a clue.  I kind of think she just makes stuff up or somethin'.  MOUSES!

And now it's time for me to pass this writing tour onto three more bloggers.  Funny thing 'bout that. Uh...  I could only find two.  I asked eight but only two agreed however they're two fantastic bloggers with AMAZIN' blogs so by the very nature of their WONDERFULNESS, I'm gonna count 'em as bein' three.  Kitty math.  Don't attempt it at home unless, of course, you're a cat.

I'd like to invite to this here writing tour my wonderful pals over at the Dash Kitten blog.  Their staff is comprised of one peep and several cats and they write on an assortment of topics.  Sometimes their posts are really serious and other times they're a whole lot of fun but no matter what, you're bound to learn something new either about cats or New Zealand or just life, in general.

I'm also invitin' on the tour my pal Brian over at the Brian's Home blog.  Brian lives in a multi-cat household and quite often he'll feature one of his fur-sibs in his posts.  And they always have great pictures!  Brian and his family are experts in doin' the easy which is readily evident by lookin' at all the beautiful pictures.  What's more, Brian has another blog that's up for a Pettie Award, just like mine.  NICE.

So that's my writing process tour post.  Hope you enjoyed it.  Now that it's done, I'm gonna go check on whether or not Seville has figured out where he found those two suitcases and try to return 'em to their rightful owner.

I sure do hope those suitcases don't belong to a big ol' ogre or somethin'.  Hope they don't belong to a big ol' ogre with a mean streak.  Hope they don't belong to a big ol' ogre with a mean streak who happens to be annoyed that someone stole his suitcases.  If they do, I'll get the peep to return 'em. Peeps have gotta be good for somethin'.  MOUSES!

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

By the way, VOTIN' for the Petties Awards is still goin' on.  You can VOTE once a day, EVERY DAY, from now until August 7th.  Won't you please vote for me?  I'd really appreciate it a lot. purrs

a MOUSES! moment, for sure

Hey Peepers!  Come see this.  Just look at that.  Yeah...  THAT.  You had thirteen whole hits on your blog yesterday.  That's more than you had for the entire month of May. Congratulations are in order, I should think.  Wanna pass me some nip?

What do you mean my sarcasm isn't appreciated?  I'm just statin' the facts. Those thirteen hits, yesterday, are more than you had for the entire month of May.   Whatcha doin' that's so different?  How are you uppin' your game?  Perhaps you could give me a pointer or two?

Oh, I see...  You actually wrote a post.  Mouses Peepers!  Didn't anyone ever tell you that the most important part of bloggin' is writing?  You should be writin' posts all the time.

So before yesterday, when was the last time you posted?  July, you say.  Nah, that's not possible. July hasn't arrived yet.  July is next month.  Stop foolin' around.  When was the last last time you posted?  You mean you haven't posted since July of last year?  2013?  BUT THAT WAS ALMOST A WHOLE YEAR AGO!  It was like, eleven months.  MOUSES!

Yes, this was my part of the conversation I had with the peep this mornin'.  It was a MOUSES! moment, for sure.

For those of you who haven't heard (and apparently, there are a whole lot of you), Ol' Peepers here has a blog.  She calls it "The Peep's Cheeps" although she clearly has not been doin' very much cheepin'.

Peep #1 claims that there are reasons for her lack of cheepin' and I have to agree.  I have to agree that there are reasons.  I don't necessarily agree with what those reasons are.

What's that Peepers?  You say that you spend so much time helpin' me with my blog that you don't have time to work on your own?

NONSENSE.  I write all my own stuff.  I don't require your help to write my posts.  What are gettin' at here?

On the other paw, I do need a little help.  Just a teeny-tiny bit.  I do need the peep to turn the computer on for me in the mornin' but once that's done, she's free to do as she likes.  I don't need her watchin' over my shoulder, remindin' me not to start sentences with and or but or whatever.  Not that I've ever been known to take her advice on such matters, anyway.  But the constant nattering 'bout such things tends to be a little annoying after the first hour or so, if you know what I mean.

My gosh, I just had a thought.  If Ol' Peepers were to do as much writing as she does nattering, she'd have posts comin' out of her ears!   And far better that than her natterin' in mine.

What's that Peepers?  Yes I know I just started a sentence with an and and let me tell you...  IT WAS INTENTIONAL.

See what I mean?  Nattering.

Okay, so now she's changing her story. Now the peep claims that with all the blogging I do, I'm tyin' up the computer.

Nope.  Just checked.  The computer cord is lying right there.  No knots or anythin'.  Nothin' tied up at all.

FINE.  Yes, I know you actually meant that I was usin' the computer and when I'm usin' it, you can't. Well...  Well these things can't be helped.  I have posts to write and writing to post and when I'm not doin' that, I have pals to visit on Twitter and Facebook and the like.

And speakin' of Facebook.  Did you hear?  Passed twenty-five hundred likes on my fan page yesterday.  NICE.

Anywho...  If you need more computer time, why not do it while I'm nappin'?  I nap multiple times a day, every day.  Plenty of time for you to do some writing while I'm nappin', Peepers.

Now the Peep is complaining that on the rare occasion when she does get to use the computer, she has been workin' on her book so she can't work on her blog.

That's ridiculous.  Firstly, I take exception to the phrase, rare occasion.  Like I said, I nap daily.  My nappin' schedule has nothin' to do with rarity.  Secondly, I take exception to the word book as Ol' Peepers' foray into the writing of books has not yet produced a single book-like object or anything resembling what could be placed upon a bookshelf.

I, on the other paw, have written an entire chapter that will be in a real, live - okay, it's not actually alive - book later this year.  You all know 'bout that?  Yup, my rescue story will be appearin' in Rescue Me:  The Stories of 12 Cats, Through Their Eyes, bein' published by FitCat Publishing. VERY NICE.

Let me tell you, Peepers.  The thing is that I, Nerissa the Cat, am the writer in this family.  I'm the one with the blog that is regularly updated.  I post twice a week, every week.  Apparently, you're lucky if you post twice a year.  MOUSES!

What?  What are you goin' on about now, Peepers?  So now you're claiming that you don't have time to work on your blog 'cause any time you do get with the computer, you're using to write your book and even that time is bein' interrupted by my recent forays down to the end of the driveway.  You're sayin' that my visitin' the end of the driveway is upsettin' you 'cause it's so close to the road and that the road is dangerous and seeing me there makes you feel the need to get up and leave the computer to come rescue me.

But Peepers, that's where the chipmunks live.  You know those two chippies I brought home the other day?  Remember how I blogged about them on Wednesday?  Well, the chippy colony has set up camp in that big ol' oak tree at the end of the driveway and I'd be ever-so-remiss if I were to ignore their invitations to visit.  How else am I gonna bring any of 'em home?

Besides, I don't actually go onto the road.  I just hang out by the oak tree and I can always duck behind said tree if I see someone with a big dog, or somethin', coming.  It's a big tree.  Lots of space behind it for hiding.

Let me tell you.  If it's not one thing, it's another.  The peep is just full of excuses 'bout her lack of bloggin' but you and I know the truth.  The TRUTH is that Ol' Peepers' lack of bloggin' is due to a lack of bloggin' skills.  She's just not up to it.

Hmmm...  Perhaps I should write a few posts for the peep.  You know, to help her out a bit.  She certainly is in need of the help.  Yes, that's an idea.  I could write a post here and there.  Make sure she posts at least quarterly.  Maybe even monthly.

A post a year...  MOUSES!  Never heard anything like it.  And she calls herself a writer.  TRIES to call herself a writer, is more like it.  Once more I must say, MOUSES! 'cause you know...  it's a MOUSES! moment, for sure.