we'll gather at dawn

You're gonna have to do somethin' about that, Peepers.

I SAID, you're gonna have to do somethin' about that!

PEEPERS!  Like I said, you're gonna have to do SOMETHIN' about that.

That.

THAT!

Okay, THOSE.  You're gonna have to do somethin' about those.

MOUSES!

Peepers, are you even listenin' to me?

Gosh darn it, all this time I've been talkin' to her, she was firmly sound asleep.

Should have known by the snorin'.

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, she might not have been asleep.

SHE MIGHT HAVE BEEN IGNORIN' ME.

So rude.

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, here's the thing: Peepers has a stash.  That's right, she has her very own stash.

Or is it a horde...

Huh, probably both.

MOUSES!

But it's like this: Peepers has a stash-slash-horde or horde-slash-stash of yarn.  All sorts of different yarns in all sorts of different colours.  It's embarrassing, really.  Embarrassing for her.

Not to mention me.

IMAGINE havin' more balls of yarn than a peep could ever even dream of knittin' up.

IMAGINE!

I mean, it's not like it's a stash of the nip..

A cat CAN ONLY DREAM of havin' so much nip in his stash that he couldn't possibly use it all up before next harvest season.

MOUSES!

But back to this hordelike stash of yarn the peep has.

It's big.  It's stupidly big.  It's BIGLY big, to be sure.  And it's takin' up space that could be put to much better use by bein' used as space for storin' catnip.  It is TOTALLY RIDICULOUS, for sure.

Which is why...

Which is why...

Which is why I have offered to help her out by takin' some of her stashlike horde, unravellin' it all, and thereby puttin' it to better use than just sittin' around, doin' nothin' but nothin', occupyin' space.

And once it's unravelled...

Once it's unravelled...

Well, once a ball of yarn is unravelled, it's time for kitties to do some major slobberin', before knottin' it up.  And THEN, once unravelled, slobbered upon, and knotted in knots, the best thing to do with said yarn is throw it right out!

MAKIN' SPACE FOR MY ANNUAL HARVEST OF NIP.

*purrs*

But Peepers, bein' a peep, is somewhat resistant to this idea.

MOUSES!

But fear not, my dear friends.  Fear not, not at all!  The plan is for Saffy and I to gather at dawn, dive into that stash, and have....

Well, have a ball!

Pun intended.

We'll gather at dawn and have a ball unravellin' those balls of stupid ol' yarn.

Best. Plan, EVER, for sure.

And when we're all done...

When we're all done...

Well, when we're all done, the empty totes that once held the stupid ol' yarn will be MINE.

Every. Single. One.

MOUSES!

breakin' news...

I have breakin' news, my friends.  I have breakin' news.  WHOMPIN' BIG, BIG OL' BREAKIN' NEWS.

MOUSES!

Are you ready?

Are you sittin' down?

Are you as excited 'bout this as am I?

Here goes...

Peepers went to the store the other day and came home with not one, but two plastic totes.  TWO!  That's right, I said, TWO.

And they're pretty darn big totes, too.

MOUSES!

And...

And when I asked her about 'em, about why she had bought those two big plastic totes, she said they were for the stash.

MOUSES!

Oh my mouses, my wonderful friends.  Oh my MOUSES!  Do you know what this means?  DO you?  Those two big totes are for MY stash!

DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH CATNIP THOSE TWO TOTES ARE GONNA HOLD?

MOUSES!

I've been wantin' a tote or two to store my nip stash for ages, now.  For ages and ages, for sure!  And not just my stash of loose catnip, either.  I've been wantin'...  No, NEEDIN' a container to hold all my various nip-related items, as well.  I have nip mice and nip fish and nip-filled biff bags - some fabric, some knitted - and then there are the...

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

What?

WHAT?

Exactly what is you're tryin' to say, ol' peep of mine?

WHAT???

MOUSES!

So apparently...

So apparently, those two totes are not for me.  Apparently, those two totes, she bought for herself.  Apparently, those two totes are for Peepers' YARN.

Can you believe it, my friends?  CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?  Those two totes were bought to hold Peepers' stupid stash of stupendously stupid, stupid ol' stash of stupid ol' yarn.

And she already had totes stuffed with her stash.  I can't see how she could possibly be needin' two more.

MOUSES!

BREAKIN' NEWS...  Seville the Cat arrested on charges of demolishing a ridiculously large stash of stupendously stupid ol' yarn.

Least that's what the press is likely to report.

Once I get my paws and my slobber all over that stupid ol' yarn.

MOUSES!

askin' for trouble

What to do, what to do... What should I do 'bout my blog post today?  Should I write about...

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

Nothin'.  Nothin' at all.  Nothin' about which you should be concerned.

MOUSES!

Yeah, I suppose Peepers is worried on account of the fact that whenever I'm at a loss for a blog post topic, I USUALLY write about her.

MOUSES!

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

Nothin', I said.  Nothin' at all!

Oh, she's gettin' super worried, for sure.  Worried I'll write some kinda tell all post she's bound to find embarrassin'.

Again.

MOUSES!

But to tell you the truth...

The absolutely most truthful of all truths...

SHE REALLY SHOULD BE USED TO THAT BY NOW.

MOUSES!

But do you know somethin', my friends? The absolutely most truthful of all truths is that Peepers actually hasn't done anythin' stupid about which I can write.

Today.

So far.

MOUSES!

Oh, but yesterday....

Yeah, YESTERDAY she was doin' some knittin' after supper, and when she was all finished, she forgot to put her knittin' away.

Well, long story short...

Yeah, Saffy had some good ol' times with that big ol' ball of yarn.

Me?  You wanna know if I did anythin' to that yarn?

Well...

Well, I MIGHT have supervised.  Might even have pointed out that ball of yarn lyin' there to my brother.  I MIGHT EVEN have egged him on.

But just a teeny tiny bit.

'CAUSE IT'S NOT LIKE ME TO BE NAUGHTY.

Most of the time.

MOUSES!

You know, I can't help it if Saffron tore into that ball of yarn like it was a big ol' bag of the nip and pulled out a few stitches of knittin', here and there, once I happened to mention to Saffy that said ball of yarn was just lyin' there, askin' for trouble.

AND I CAN'T HELP IT if Saffy felt he NEEDED to tear into that yarn after hearin' that said yarn was badmouthin' him and tryin' to pick some kinda fight.

AND I CAN'T HELP IT if...

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

That yarn was too lookin' for a fight.  It was practically beggin' for one.

And it's not my fault it found a fight.  Not my fault, at all.

Besides, Peepers, you don't need any more cowls.  You only have the one neck, you know.  One neck, one cowl.  Instead, you should try knittin' somethin' useful like a nip mouse.

MOUSES!

what did you expect?

Well what did you expect, Peepers?  What did you expect?

I mean...

Well...

Well it's round, right?  Right.

And it's made of yarn, right?  Right.

And it looks kinda like a ball, right?  Right.

Fact is, it's a round ball of yarn.  So...

So...

SO OF COURSE SAFFY IS GONNA WANNA PLAY WITH IT.

WHAT DID YOU EXPECT HE WOULD DO?

MOUSES!

And you didn't see the half of it, ol' peep of mine.  Saffy found that ball of yarn of yours, hauled it out of your bag, flung it halfway across the room, and then back again.  That yarn was flyin' through the air like a chickadee high on the nip.

If chickadees appreciated a good sniff of the nip, that is.

But anyway, my point is...

WHAT DID YOU EXPECT HE WOULD DO?

And then Saffron rolled onto his side, held onto that ball of yarn like mad, and gave it the kickin' of all his nine lives.  Those hind paws of his were kickin' like crazy, they were.  Like crazy, I say.

And then...

And then he flung that yarn across the room, once more.

And then...

Well, then he got up and walked right out of the room, with both nose and tail held high.

Why-oh-why you're surprised 'bout any of this is beyond me.  He's a cat.  It's a ball of yarn.  This sort of behaviour is kinda what we cats like to do.

MOUSES!

And FYI, Peepers: I happened to check out that ol' ball of yarn after Saffy was done DOIN' WHAT CATS DO.  It's pretty much slobbered all over and there are bits kinda roughed up, if you know what I mean.  I doubt that yarn is still fit for knittin'.

And I'll ask this just once more.

JUST WHAT THE MOUSES DID YOU EXPECT HE WOULD DO?

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.

boomies

Whoa...  MAMA.

That was a loud one, for sure.

MOUSES!

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

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

MOUSES!

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

I was not.

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

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

MOUSES!

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

I don't think.

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

But you know...

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

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

MOUSES!

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

But wet they were.  Wet.  Wet.  WET!

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

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

MOUSES!

And FYI, the sweater is now in the wash.

Where it's wet.

MOUSES!

And speakin' of sweaters...

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

All I got were complaints.

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

MOUSES!

And did you know...

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

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

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

MOUSES!

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

Could have been Saffy's, you know.

FOR ALL I KNOW, it could have been HERS.

Peepers', I mean.  Peepers' stupid slobber.

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

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

MOUSES!

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

And remember:

IF IN DOUBT,

DON'T. GO. OUT.

Continue to practice SOCIAL DISTANCIN' measures

AND KEEP WASHIN' YOUR PAWS.

MOUSES!

Remember to mask up, too.

one peep's trash

The chicken or the egg; which came first?

Hmmm...

So which one was it?  The chicken?  The egg?

Hmmm....

Depends on which you had first, I guess.  I mean, if you had a chicken that laid an egg, obviously the chicken came first.  But if all you had was an egg, and then that ol' egg happened to hatch, well then you've got a chicken.  A chicken that came AFTER the egg.

MOUSES, here I am - I, Seville the Cat - solvin' another one of life's little mysteries.  I keep this up and I'll have 'em all solved, for sure!

MOUSES!

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

You don't have any chickens, you say?  AH, but I happen to know for a fact there are two dozen eggs in the fridge so for you, the egg came first.  All twenty-four of 'em, for sure.

You're not plannin' on lettin' those eggs hatch, you say?

Then why do you even CARE which one came first?

MOUSES!

Some cat's peeps.

But that's all beside the point, anyway, 'cause I was just solvin' this little life mystery in order to solve an even bigger mystery in the mystery pool we call life.

Yeah, yeah...  I know that doesn't make much sense.  Sure sounds good, though, huh?  Makes me sound all philosophical and stuff.

MOUSES!

But anyway, back to the bigger mystery I am needin' to solve.  The mystery I am needin' to solve just for you, Peepers.  The mystery of...

Are you ready?

The mystery of which came first; the haste or the waste?

MOUSES!

Yes, Peepers, I AM talking 'bout you.  I, Seville the Cat, AM talking 'bout how in your hurry last night to do some knittin', you ended up knittin' AN ENTIRE ROW all wrong.  Yup, the whole thing was wack-a-doodle wacky and wacked.

And then, because you messed everythin' up, you had to take three rows out!

You know, 'cause you didn't notice your mistake right away.

So because of your haste, you WASTED all that time takin' out those three rows, which was a TOTAL WASTE of time, for sure.

Not to mention yarn.

Okay, so the wastin' of  yarn came later.  'Cause AFTER wastin' that time takin' out your mistake, you ended up tryin' to make up for the lost time by knittin' even faster.  And then...

AND THEN you ended up makin' more waste.

Yup, that's right Peepers, I saw you.  I see lots of things, you know, AND I DEFINITELY SAW you makin' the exact same mistake in the pattern for a second time.  I, Seville the Cat, am a very observant kitty, for sure.

MOUSES!

So let's see...  You started with haste, which produced a lot of waste.  Then the waste gave you even more haste - made you work even faster - and the additional haste from the original waste made you make even more waste, which then...

My mouses, that's kinda confusin'.  Confusin' like a tangled up ol' ball of yarn.

Which is what you ended up with after you figured out it would be easier to just start all over.

But on the other paw...

On the other paw, a tangled up ball of yarn is anythin' BUT waste when you're a cat, you see.  So the haste produced waste which produced haste which produced waste.  But although the second lot of waste was wastage for you, it was a wonderful treat and surprise for me, and therefore not wastage at all, so...

So this here...

My gosh I'm confused.

Just goes to show you: one peep's trash really is a marmalade cat's pleasure.

ANOTHER life mystery solved.

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.

twenty-seven weeks

 

First we had the Great Toilet Paper Shortage of 2020.  Remember that one?  There was nary a roll of TP to be found.

Not that I cared, mind you.  I mean, as a cat, I don't use toilet paper all that much.  Oh sure, I like to rip apart a roll, leavin' bits and pieces all over the bathroom floor as much as the next cat, but it's not like I use it to wipe myself after usin' the little boys' box.

MOUSES!

As long as the unavailability of toilet paper didn't mean peeps would be resortin' to usin' litter and my litter boxes, the ol' TP shortage didn't affect me.

Then came the Toilet Paper Wars.  Yup, you heard right.  Rightly?  Whatever.

Anyway, just like the Toilet Paper Shortage, the Toilet Paper Wars of 2020 also didn't affect me.  Peeps everywhere were fightin' over the few remainin' packages of TP on store shelves.  Playin' tug of war like two dogs wantin' the same chew toy, they were, willin' to tackle each other to the floor, and over rolls of TP.

Peeps.

MOUSES!

After the business with the toilet paper, other shortages ensued: paw sanitiser, disinfectant wipes, stuff like that.  Again, none of this affected me for as a cat, I don't use any of these things.  Never have; never will.

MOUSES!

And when peeps weren't busy cleanin' stuff, apparently, they were bakin'.  Bakin' bread and cakes and things.  Flour and yeast were swept off the shelves like beach umbrellas by a tsunami.  Thankfully, again, this did not affect me.

But then...

But then came the Great Yarn Shortage of 2020.  Peeps everywhere were buyin' up yarn like it was goin' out of style.  They must have been, for one day I sent Peepers out to buy me some yarn to make nip mice, but she came home empty-pawed late that evenin'.  Not a ball of yarn on the shelves, she said.

Now this - THIS - was important to me.

Thankfully, Peepers has a stash of yarn here at home.  She doesn't know I know where it is - and don't you go tellin' her I do - but I've seen it myself and I know it exists.

Whew.

MOUSES!

And now...

And now there is a shortage of thread.

Thread.

Can you believe it?

MOUSES!

It's true.  There's not a spool of thread on the store shelves.

Well truth be told, Peepers only went to the one store, so I don't know how widespread this shortage is, but still...

WILL THE SHORTAGE OF THREAD MEAN A SHORTAGE OF BIFF BAGS, TOO?

As a nip-lovin' cat, I go through biff bags like peeps go through socks, you see.

Okay, perhaps that's a poor analogy.  Most peeps go through socks a lot more quickly than I go through biff bags, if I'm gonna be honest.  But I'm sure there are SOME peeps out there who don't change their socks on a daily basis.  Now I definitely go through biff bags more quickly than than they change their dirty socks.

MOUSES!

The thing is, to make a biff bag, one needs thread.

But the thread shelves are bare!

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

Oh.  

Correction:  The thread shelves are bare of only white thread.  There are plenty of other colours, she says.

But I'm not havin' the peep make my biff bags with uncoordinated colours of thread.

No sirree.  I'm not sniffin' pink and green cotton biff bags sewn up with bright purple or orange thread.  Or turquoise, or fuchsia, or any other colour that doesn't go.

THERE ISN'T ENOUGH NIP IN THE WORLD TO GET ME NIPPED UP ENOUGH TO TOLERATE ANYTHIN' LIKE THAT.

I, Seville the Cat, am a cat with taste.  I have fashion sense, I do.  I have my own style!  I know the difference between tasteful and garish, and garish biff bags are not for me, you see.

Uncoordinated biff bags...

WHAT IS THIS WORLD COMIN' TO?

MOUSES!

It seems to me, that durin' the last one hundred and forty-six million, nine hundred and sixty-six thousand, four hundred cat seconds of this pandemic thing, peeps have started up a whole lot of bad habits.  Bad habits like usin' too much yarn and thread for ridiculously useless things, and not keepin' in mind that such commodities need to be saved for IMPORTANT things like the knittin' of nipmice and sewin' of biff bags.

PEEPS NEED TO START GETTIN' THEIR PRIORITIES STRAIGHT.

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.

oohhh... what's this?

Well thank you very much, Mr. UPS driver, Sir.  You need me to sign for that or anythin'?  X on the dotted line?  Pawprint or somethin'?  Anythin' like that?

No?  Okay-dokey then.  And if you wouldn't mind puttin' that there box inside the house for me, that would be great.

MOUSES!

Now I wonder what this could be.  I don't remember ordering anythin'.  Not even anythin' advertised on TV.

Let's take a little looksie, shall we?

Hmmm...  Apparently, it's addressed to the peep.

MOUSES!

BUT WE ALL KNOW, what's hers is mine, and what's mine is...  Well...  MINE.

MOUSES!

So she should have no problem with my openin' it up.

You know, this here box - as big as it is - it really kinda light.  I wonder if there's anythin' in it at all.  It might just be a box.

WHAT AM I SAYIN'???

There's no such thing as JUST a box.  A Jack-in-the-box, sure, but not JUST a box.  A box is a box is a box.  An item to be treasured and...  Well...  Shall we say..  REVERED?  And actually, empty boxes are the very best kinda boxes, on account of an empty box bein' the perfect place for cat like me to hang out.  You put too much stuff in a box, and there's no room inside that there box for me, and that, my friends, SUCKS.


MOUSES!

I'll just use a claw to examine this uh...  Umm...  OOPSIE!  Now look at that.  My claw accidentally tore right through the tape on that there box.

I wonder how that happened.

OOPSIE!  However it happened, it happened again.

And once more?  You know, for good measure.  Plus, it's a well known fact that these things happen in threes.

MOUSES!

And now that the tape is all split and no longer holding the box shut, I might as well go ahead and open it up, and...

OH MY MOUSES!  THE PEEP BOUGHT ME YARN!  Oh what a glorious peep my peep can be.  One, two, three...  FOURTEEN balls of yarn.

Bet you didn't know I knew how to count that high, huh?

MOUSES!

So I wonder what I'm gonna do with all these balls of yarn.  I'm usually content with unravelling one ball at a time.  I really don't need any more than the one.  It's not like I know how to knit.

On the other paw, the peep does.  Know how to knit, I mean.  She's not so much into the unravelling thing.

Hmmm...

I think...  I think I'll toss these balls of yarn outta my way, outta this here box, and onto the floor.  Might keep one, though.  You know, to unravel later on.  But I have no need for the rest.

And once the balls of yarn are all gone...

NOW THAT'S A BEAUTIFUL SIGHT TO BEHOLD.


An empty box.

BUT NOT ANYMORE!

*settles down and curls up in said box*

They SAY money can't buy happiness, but do you know what?   Money can buy a box, and a box is happiness wrapped up with a bow.

MOUSES!

of mice and mischief

What to do, what to do...

Oh WHAT to do...

MOUSES!

Oh hello there, my friends.  I was just sittin' here, wonderin' what to do.  Should I work on my blog for a bit?  Should I work on my book?  Perhaps I should take a nap.

Decisions, decisions...

MOUSES!

Pardon me?  I didn't quite hear that.

Oh, I should get into mischief, you say.

Well...

Well normally I'd be all for that, but truth be told, I've already reached my mischief quota for the day.  Actually, the REAL truth be told, earlier this mornin' I managed to reach my mischief quota for two - count 'em, TWO - days.

MOUSES!

I'm so pleased that you asked.  OF COURSE I'll tell you what mischief I got into today.

You want the short list or the long one?

Detailed account or bullet points?

Just the highlights, you say?

Hmmm...

Well for starters, there was the bowl of kibble I managed to knock over.  Now to tell you the truth, that wasn't so much mischief as uh..  Um..  Well...  Well as a traffic incident of sorts.  I was goin' one way, the peep was goin' another, I decided to dodge her paws...  I mean, feet, by makin' a hard right, and that right took me right into the kibble.

So really...

So really, incident numero uno can be totally blamed upon the peep.

MOUSES!

The next highlight of the mornin' was the blinds in my office.

Long story short, the fly is now dead.

And so, by the way, are the blinds.  Definitely injured if not dead.

MOUSES!

Okay, so what's next on my list?  Oh I know, that would be 'bout the time the peep's yarn mysteriously went from one end of the family room to the other.  The peep wasn't knittin' at the time.  Nope, no sirree.  At the time, she was makin' brekkies.  FOR HERSELF.  Well, coffee, actually, but coffee is part of the peepified brekkies ritual, I do believe.

Yup, THAT'S right.  The kibble and the blind incidents - plus a couple of other borin' things which I didn't bother to mention on account of your wantin' just the highlights of my mischief-filled mornin' - occurred BEFORE Peepers' first cup of coffee.

YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT?

No, seriously, do you?  'Cause from the looks she was givin' me, I kinda think the peep does.

MOUSES!

Okay, so where was I?

Oh yeah, the peep was busying herself with startin' a pot of coffee and I, Seville the Cat, found myself rather bored, so I went into the family room, hauled the ball of yarn the peep has been usin' out of her knittin' bag, and uh...  Um...  Well...  Well let's just say, afterwards, the ball had to be RE-wound.  Parts of it, anyway.  The parts that had not yet been used for knittin'.  Oh, and that was AFTER it was untangled, of course.  But to be fair, there was only ONE little itty bitty knot that I could see.  And to be REALLY fair, I'm not sure that ol' ball of yarn didn't come with the knot in the first place, so...

So really...

So really, that doesn't count as a mischief-makin' incident at all but rather, more of a helping-the-peep-to-find-the-knots-in-her-yarn-needing-to-be-untangled kinda thing.

MOUSES!

Well after the yarn business, I decided to take a nap.

At the top of the stairs leadin' to the basement.

We won't talk about that.

MOUSES!

And now...

Well now, at about quarter past ten in the mornin', although I HAD PREVIOUSLY THOUGHT my mischief quotas for both today and tomorrow had been all used up, I NOW REALISE some of my mischief was actually the peep's fault, and some of it wasn't even mischief at all.

So now I'm thinkin', although I could work on my book or my blog or even take another nap, what I REALLY should be doin' is checkin' on the nip mouse situation in the house and gettin' myself nipped.

And if you've never seen me gettin' into mischief while nipped...

WELL THEN YOU AIN'T SEEN NOTHIN' YET.

Please pardon my use of the so-called word, "ain't."

MOUSES!

a cat can look at a peep

Whatcha doin' there, Peepers?  How come you're lookin' at me like that?

Because I'M lookin' at you, you say?  Your excuse is, you're simply lookin' at me back?

Hmmm....

First of all, there, Peepers - I, Seville the Cat, am a cat.  Kinda self-explanatory, that.  At least I would think.  You know, on account of cat bein' right there in my name at all, and...

Well I'm gettin' to that.  MOUSES!

Thing is, like I was sayin' before bein' so rudely interrupted: I'm a cat.  And CATS are allowed to look at peeps any time they please.  You've never heard how a cat can look at a queen?  Well that's 'cause they're cats.  And if a cat can look at a queen, a cat can most CERTAINLY look at a peep.

Peeps, on the other paw...  Well peeps can't just go 'round lookin' at queens and kings and things.  A peep directs an unsavoury glance toward a king or a queen, and a peep might just find herself thrown into a dungeon or somethin' like that.

Just pointin' that out to you, Peepers, in case you ever get an inkling to go gawkin' at Her Majesty the Queen.

MOUSES!

But gettin' back on topic here.  Like I said before, a CAT can look at a queen.  And if a cat can look at a queen, I CAN GUARANTEE YOU, a cat can look at a peep.  And I, Seville the Cat, am all cat.

MOUSES!

Well I'm just gettin' to that!

Boy-oh-boy, a kitty can't even finish a sentence 'round here without bein' interrupted and stuff.

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, LIKE I WAS SAYIN', a cat has every right to look at a peep if said cat wishes to do so, BUT...

But I wasn't even lookin' at you in the first place.

*furiously shakes head in denial*

No sirree.  I, Seville the Cat, was lookin' at your yarn.

MOUSES!

Now did I SAY I was gonna grab hold of your yarn and start slobberin' all over it and stuff?  Did I?  DID I?

Not that I wasn't intendin' to do exactly that, BUT...

But did I SAY I was gonna do somethin' like that?

Or are you just jumpin' to conclusions?

And speakin' of jumpin', we cats are better at THAT than peeps, too.

Just sayin'...

MOUSES!

NO...  No, we're not better at jumpin' to conclusions than peeps.  We're better at jumpin', in general.  You might wanna keep that in mind if you think that by sittin' on that there chesterfield, your yarn is out of my reach.

MOUSES!

Peepers, Peepers, Peepers...  Whatever makes you think I wouldn't be better at knittin' than you?  Remember how I'm a cat?  Well we cats are better at almost everythin' you peeps can do.

Like what, you ask?

Well...

Well like yarn work, for starters.  Yeah, workin' with yarn.  We cats don't need no stinkin' knittin' needles to play with a stupid ol' ball of yarn.  Why, we cats are perfectly capable of playin' with yarn without a single knittin' needle in sight.  And that's somethin' a peep simply cannot do.

Yeah, yeah...   Peeps do do that cat's cradle thingamajig with strings and things, but...

But did you notice how it's called a CAT'S cradle, and not a peep's cradle?  Huh?  HUH?  Well, DID YOU?

MOUSES!

You're still not convinced of my yarn work superiority, huh?

Hmmm...

Well then why don't you let me show you?  Let me prove to you my infinite superiority.  Here, paw me over that ball of yarn, and...

What, you can't bring yourself to share your stupid ol' ball of yarn with the one and only SEVILLE THE CAT?

For mousin' out loud.

What a selfish, selfish, SELFISH peep you are.

You're a real YARN hog, for sure.

And did I happen to mention you were selfish?

MOUSES!

knittin' tv

So.

So last night...

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

Can you believe it?

MOUSES!

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

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

MOUSES!

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

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

MOUSES!

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

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

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

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

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

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

MOUSES!

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

MOUSES!

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

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

MOUSES!

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

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

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

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

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

Moments later...

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

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

The peep gave me a weird look.

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

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

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

Then I heard that pseudo growlin' noise again.

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

"Sorry," the peep grumbled again.

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

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

Well that's when...

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

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

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

When she felt somethin' tuggin' on that yarn.

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

MOUSES!

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

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

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

MOUSES!

hey

Hey.

What's that, Peepers? I'm just sayin' hello.

Hey.

What's that, Peepers? I'm just lettin' you know I'm here beside you.

Hey.

What's that, Peepers? What?  WHAT?

Of all the nerve.

MOUSES!

Apparently, my tappin' Peep #1's knittin' needle while she's knittin', isn't appreciated.

MOUSES!

What's that, Peepers?  What?  WHAT?

Tappin'.  Grabbin'.  Tossin' to floor...  What's the difference?

To-may-to, to-mah-to, Peepers.  MOUSES!

And like you've never reached over and tapped me on the shoulder before.

Well sure, if I HAD some knittin' needles, you could tap me on my knittin' needles, but since you are currently hoarding all the knittin' needles in this here house, I don't have any knittin' needles of my own for you to tap, so instead, you end up tappin' me on my shoulder and...  And...  And...

Where was I again?

Oh yeah, bottom line is, your tappin' me on the shoulder is the very same thing as my tappin' your knittin' needle.  MOUSES!

I thought I already explained to you how tappin', grabbin', and tossin' to the floor, are all one and the same.

You know, sometimes I seriously wonder 'bout my peep's intellect.  MOUSES!

Hey.

What's that, Peepers?  I'm just sayin' hello again.

Hey.

What's that, Peepers?  I'm just lettin' you know I'm still sittin' here beside you.

Hey.

HEY.

HEY!!!

'Cause you were complainin' so much about my tappin' your knittin' needles. THAT'S why.  MOUSES!

Oh.  My.  Mouses.  A cat can't tap a peep's knittin' needles and apparently, a cat can't haul on a peep's knittin' yarn, either.  MOUSES!

Haul on.  Tear up.  Rip out...  To-may-to, to-mah-to, Peepers.  To-may-to, to-mah-to!  MOUSES!

Hey.

never mind

Hey Peepers!  You have any green yarn handy? Light green?  A sage colour or somethin'?

What's that, Peepers? You wanna know why I'm lookin' for yarn?

Ummm...  Never mind.

No, I MEANT to say, WHAT'S THAT, PEEPERS?  I CAN'T HEAR YOU!

Whew!  That was a close call, for sure.

Oh hello there, Peepers.  What am I doin' diggin' around in your bag of knittin' stuff, you ask?  Um... Uh....  Er...  Nothin'...

Mouses woman, can't a kitty do nothin' and not get asked more questions than they asked durin' the Spanish Inquisition?

By the way, how many questions did they ask durin' the Spanish Inquisition?  You happen to know that, Peepers?  'Cause if you don't know, maybe you should take a moment to go look it up.  In fact, you could go look that up right now.

And you could let me get back to doin' nothin'.  MOUSES!

Now where was I...

What's that, Peepers?  Do I happen to know where your yellow yarn is?  The yarn you used to make that teddy bear?  Hmmm...  Nope.  I don't believe I do.

At least I don't know where it is now.  Last time I had it, it was over there by that chair.  But I have no idea where it got to after that.

I mean, no.  NO.  No, I do not know where your ball of yellow yarn is.

Why do you ask?

Actually Peepers, you should ask Andy.  He looks like a yarn thief, for sure.  MOUSES!

For mousin' out loud, Peepers!  Stop walkin' into the family room and surprisin' me like that!

I TOLD you, I'm not doin' anythin' by diggin' through this bag of toys...  I mean, this bag containing your knitting things and stuff and...

I'm not doin' nothin' at all!  I mean, I'm doin' nothin'.  I mean, I'm not doin' anythin'.  I mean...

Now see what you've done?  You've got me all confused.  I'm even usin' double negatives which YOU KNOW I never do and...

Andy!  Not right now.  Not in front of the peep!  

Ummm...  I have no idea why Andy just ran into the family room with a ball of sage green yarn in his mouth and dropped it by my paws before exclaimin', "I found the green yarn!"  I have no idea why he did that at all.  I uh...  Um...  Er...

Andy, SHHH....  Stop explainin' stuff to the peep. And for mousin' out loud, stop USIN' MY NAME while you're doin' your explainin'!

Andy, why don't you go look for stuff somewhere else.  In another room.  You can come back once I've gotten rid of the peep.

Pardon me, Peepers?  Yes Peepers.  Yes Peepers, I know.  I know I'm not allowed to play with balls of yarn and stuff.  I know I'm not allowed to play with yarn at all.

Yes I know, Peepers.  I know how you keep your knittin' stuff out of our reach on purpose.  I know you never leave it unattended.

I told you, Peepers, I know!  I KNOW THAT PLAYIN' WITH YARN IS SUPER DANGEROUS FOR KITTIES on account of if we swallow it, it can get us all plugged up in ways I don't want to even think about bein' plugged, and make us kitties require surgery and stuff but...

BUT ALL I WAS DOIN' WAS LOOKIN' FOR A BALL OF YARN!  I WASN'T GONNA ACTUALLY PLAY WITH IT!

I mean, all I was doin' was diggin' through this bag of toys...

I mean, all I was doin' was lookin' through your knittin' bag...

I mean, I WASN'T DOIN' NOTHIN' AT ALL!

Awww...  MOUSES!

Hmmm....

By the way, Peepers.  You ever find out how many questions were asked durin' that ol' Spanish Inquisition?  'Cause if you still don't know, you really should look that up.  Like, go look it up right now.  I'll even let you borrow my computer to do so, if you want.  My computer that's in my office. In my office which is over there.  Not here.  Not this room.  Not this room with your bag of knittin' and stuff and...

I told you before.  I was NOT gonna play with your yarn.  I wasn't.  REALLY!

Besides, balls of yarn don't even roll properly.  They're not round, you see.  Proper balls are supposed to be round and they're supposed to roll and...

What's that, Peepers?  How do I know 'bout balls of yarn not bein' round and not rollin' properly?

Well...  Well...

Well because I'm a super smart kitty and I KNOW 'bout geometry and shapes and stuff like that.  I know all about it!  I just know.   I know even without having any first paw experience with the actual rollin' of those balls of yarn, or anythin' like that.

ANDY, I told you!  Wait until AFTER the peep has left the room before you bring that...

What's that, Peepers?  What is Andy wantin' to bring into the family room now?  Uh...  Um...  Er...  Never mind.

MOUSES!

not takin' the blame for this one

I just want the world to know, right here and right now...  I am not takin' the blame for this one. MOUSES!

Christmas is right around the corner so you can imagine what Ol' Peepers is up to.  She's up to her elbows in yarn, she is. That's right, Peep #1 has been playin' with yarn. Sure, she calls it knittin' but we all know the truth. She's playin' with the stuff and what's more, she doesn't appear to be sharin', either.  Every time I try to help, she refuses my assistance.

So I get a little slobber on the yarn.  What's a little slobber amongst family and friends?  MOUSES!

What's that, Peepers?  You don't like knittin' whatever you're knittin' when all of a sudden you come across a section of the yarn that's all covered in slobber?  What can I say, Peepers?  Love me, love my slobber.  Besides, we all know you're just playin' with that yarn, anyway.

Someone should tell the peep that it's not nice to hog all the toys.  She ought to learn how to share.

Now before anyone gets their knickers all twisted, my peeps do know that allowin' cats to play with yarn, unsupervised, is a very dangerous practise.  Cats can eat the yarn and it gets all tangled up in their intestines and whatnot and causes all sorts of problems that may require surgery and can, in fact, cause death.  Peeps should never leave yarn lyin' about.  Never.  Not ever.  Not under any circumstances.

But I don't wanna eat the yarn.  I just want to play with it and I'm willin' to do it under the peep's supervision.  I really just wanna slobber over the part of the yarn that's movin' on account of the peep's knittin'.  Knittin'...  playin'...  whatever.  Apparently, I'm not even allowed to do that.  Like I said, the peep isn't sharin' her toys.  She's a toy hog, for sure.  MOUSES!

And speakin' of twisted knickers...  I, of course, don't wear underwear on account of my bein' a cat so I have no knickers to twist.

As as a short-haired cat, my fur doesn't even resemble knickers but I can't say the same for Tess, Rushton and Anderson.  Those long-haired fur-sibs of mine look like they're wearin' knickers, for sure.  Knickers...  bloomers...  whatever.  The fur on their back legs is all poofy and whatnot and sometimes, it even gets twisted.  Yup, they can get the mats if they don't allow Peep #1 to comb 'em.  Happens with long-haired cats, you see.

And Tess...  What can I say 'bout my sister Tess?  Tess, bein' Tess, gets her knickers twisted all the time.  Sometimes with mats but mostly on account of her grumpy personality which surfaces whenever Peep #1 wants to comb her.  Actually, the grumpiness doesn't really surface.  It's pretty much there all the time.  Just gets worse when the peep wants to comb her or somethin' like that. Peep loves her anyway, grumps and growls and all.

But I digress.  Back to the yarn and the peep's inability to share her toys.  MOUSES!

So Peep #1 has been doin' some knittin', gettin' ready for Christmas and whatnot.  She does this sort of thing every year 'bout this time.  Mainly, she makes things like nip mice on account of her part-time elfin' job for Santa.  She knits up the mice and stuffs 'em with nip.  Then Rudolf picks 'em up for transport to the North Pole where the elves wrap the nip mice so that Santa can deliver 'em back to us for Christmas.  Yes, it's true.  Santa Clause uses out-sourcing.  MOUSES!

Seems like a lot of extra transportation and whatnot, if you ask me.  I mean, those nip mice are made at my house but have to go all the way to the North Pole for repackaging before bein' brought back to me. But I guess if you're usin' flyin' reindeer who will fly for carrots and cookies, transportation costs are pretty cheap.  At least, that's what I'm assuming.

Anywho...  Peep #1 has been elfin'.  Yup, she has been knittin' up the ol' nip mice.  But then the other day, she started knittin' somethin' else.  No way, no how, was this new thing gonna be a nip mouse.  Far too big for your standard nip mouse plus, it was filled with holes.  The peep says it's lace but let's be real here and call it what it is.  I, Nerissa the Cat, am willin' to call a spade a spade and, in this case, call a hole a hole.  The whole thing is covered in holes! She must have dropped some stitches or somethin'.

Yes, I know about stitches.  I know all about how when a I jump on Peep #1's lap when she's playin' with her yarn, she tells me I'm makin' her drop her stitches.  Better stitches than britches is all I've gotta say.

But back to the piece of knittin' with all the holes.  Once cannot stuff a nip mouse with nip if said nip mouse is filled with holes on account of all the nip falling out of those holes.  A nip mouse without any nip is simply a mouse.  Simply a knitted. fake mouse with no nip.  Not good.  Not good at all. Not good for anythin' except, perhaps, sendin' the peep off on a reconnaissance mission to find all those lost stitches that fell through all those holes.  Any nip that fell out, I'll take care of myself. MOUSES!

The peep says what she's kittin' is some kind of scarf or somethin'.  Personally, I'm still goin' with failed nip mouse but whatever...

So the scarfy thing that's covered in holes was bein' worked on last night when suddenly, Peep #1 cried out, "MOUSES!"  Yup, that's exactly what she said.  She was havin' a mouses moment for sure.

Apparently, knitted into the butter yellow scarfy thing, was a strand of hair.

Now I should just point out that butter yellow yarn does not taste like butter.  I know this to be fact 'cause I slobbered over a bit of said yarn when the peep wasn't lookin'.  Had to do it.  Had to be sure the peep wasn't playin' with butter.

But back to the scarf and the peep's cry of distress.  Knitted into the scarfy thing, was a strand of long, brown hair.  I immediately recognised the hair in question and said, "Way to go, Peepers. You're sheddin'."

Now truth be told, I have been known to get my fur on stuff around the house and some of that stuff has been Peep #1's knittin'.  Every now and then, the peep will come across a sterling silver - some say platinum - hair that is clearly one of mine.  What can I say?  Love me, love my fur.  I say it to the peeps, all the time.

But this particular hair that was knitted into the knittin' was not sterling silver like my fur.  It was brown.  Just plain ol' brown with a touch of gold.  The colour was all wrong to be one of mine.  Plus, it was way too long.  It was even too long to belong to one of my long-haired sibs with the knickers.

Yes, this hair clearly belonged to my first peep.  Colour and length were both a match. Obviously, Ol' Peepers here is sheddin'.  Hope she doesn't shed too much 'cause let me tell you, the bald look would not be a good look on her, at all.

So the peep had to get out the teeny-tiny scissors and some tweezers and do some finicky kind of stuff to get rid of that ol' hair, knitted in with the yarn.  Did you know that doin' delicate, finicky stuff like that causes peeps to use language unbecoming of peeps?  Suffice it to say, it does.

I sat and watched the peep workin' with the tiny scissors and the tweezers.  She was obviously in need of some supervision.  I suggested that while she was at it, perhaps she could locate the missing stitches and patch up some of those holes so that the scarfy thing could, in fact, be used to hold nip.  My suggestions were ignored.


I also made a point of pointing out that the hair causin' all the peep's troubles was not mine.  No way, no how, was I was takin' the blame for this one.  It's true, I might be partially responsible for the vacuum coughin' up a hairball or two but this particular hair came from the head of none other than the first peep.

Does undue stress cause peeps to shed?  Hmmm...  If so, I actually might be more responsible for the hair in question than originally thought....

MOUSES!