a trojan horse

Believe it or not, we cats have enemies.  We do.   It's true.  It's a fact.  And right at the top of our list of enemies is...  duh, duh, duh, duuuhhhh....  the dreaded vacuum.

The vacuum is a despicable creature.  Bred to produce as much ear irritating noise as is humanly possible.  With a flick of a button, peeps have control over this horrendous and contemptible monstrosity from which unimaginable sounds emanate.  Vacuums are a cat's worst nightmare.  They are the makings of horror movies.  Why that Stephen King fellow has not yet written a book about them, is unfathomable.  I'm sure he must be one in the making.

A few weeks ago, I overheard peep #2 on the telephone.  I couldn't believe my ears.  I couldn't believe what I was hearing the peep say.  The peep was ordering...  a new vacuum.  MOUSES!

We cats had already killed one vacuum.  Yes, the peeps have - or rather, had - two of them.  The canister monster was our intended victim.  We shed and we shed and we shed until we could shed no more.  The vast quantities of fur twelve cats can shed in late winter and early spring is quite considerable.  It is, in fact...  vast.  The poor little vacuum couldn't handle it anymore.  It just couldn't take it.  It spewed and it sputtered but it could suck up no more.  It had had it.  And just to get our point across...  to make sure we were fully understood...  to make sure the beast was well and truly dead...  one of us peed on it.  That's right, we peed on the vacuum.  Made sure it the most difficult part of the monster to clean up, too.  Quite an effective statement, I do believe.

As far as I was concerned, that was one down, one to go.  Never did I ever imagine that the beast could be replaced!  But once I overheard my peeps' plans to do exactly that, I knew I had to do something about the situation, immediately.  I just knew it.  But what?  What to do...  what to do... 

I devised a plan and began its implementation.  Everything was going smoothly until last Wednesday night.  Peep #1 had just returned from caterwauling practice when peep #2 called out to her.  Apparently, a box had been discovered on the veranda.

Now, normally, boxes are good things.  Normally, boxes are great.  Normally, boxes are fantastically wonderful and absolutely delightful.  This particular box, however, was a horse in disguise.  A Trojan horse, I do believe.  'Bout the size and weight of one, too.  Did this box contain a murderous and well armed army, you might very well ask?  No...  worse.  It contained...  the new vacuum.

Apparently, sometime during the day, the courier had delivered the vacuum and left it on the veranda.  The peeps believe it was a courier.  No one ever saw him or her, leaving the box.  They're just assuming, I think.  This supposed courier didn't ring the bell or knock on the door or anything like that.  The peeps never knew the vacuum was there until peep #2 discovered it, quite accidentally, that night.

The peeps say that leaving the vacuum on the veranda like that was a silly thing for the courier to do.  Anyone could have come along and taken it.  Goodness knows I wish they had.  In fact, that was my plan all along.  That was what was supposed to happen.  What on earth could have gone wrong?

After hearin' peep #2 on the telephone ordering a replacement monster, I got on the Internet right away.  I left strict instructions with that courier company.  I told them that their delivery person was to leave the vacuum on the veranda without telling a soul.  They were to dump it and run. 

My plan was that someone - ANYONE - would come along and take that monster for themselves.  I figured that the longer it was left unattended on the veranda, the more likely it would be stolen.  It should have been stolen!  Unfortunately, my plan didn't work out.  MOUSES! 

Either our neighbours are all too honest or the fact that the monster was hiding in that ol' Trojan horse of a box threw them off.  They might have thought it was just a box.  Although that makes no sense 'cause anyone in their right mind would want a box.  Boxes are far more desirable than vacuums.  Boxes are good.  Vacuums are...  well...  you know.

I don't really know for sure where my plans went belly up.  Back to the drawing board, I suppose.  I'm not giving up, yet.  Rest assured, no vacuum is gonna get the better of me!