last dance

'Twas the week before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a...

WRONG!!!  That's not what happened at all.  Let me explain.

It was exactly a week before Christmas. Peep #1 put a load of laundry in the washing machine and then came into the family room to spend some time with us cats.  Everything was fine, for a while, but then she started hearing strange noises emanating from the basement.  Bangs and booms and bangity-boom-boom kinds of noises.  MOUSES!

Never one to shy away from strange noises, even if they might be being made by a horde of elephant-sized weasels from that dastardly weaselly enterprise known as the Weasel Syndicate, the peep headed downstairs at a trot.

And what before her wondering eyes did appear?  Let's just say, it wasn't a weasel.  MOUSES!

There before her, the washing machine was doing the dance of the sugarplum fairies.

WRONG!!!  There were no sugarplums, nor fairies, nor anything of the like but the washing machine was dancing up a storm, to be sure.

That's right, the washing machine was dancing across the basement floor, swaying to the left as far as its electrical cord would allow and then back to the right, doing the tango of all tangos and then jigging like a drunken leprechaun let loose at a fiddle fest in the heart of leprechaun country. MOUSES!

Also, there was water all over the place.

Apparently, our washing machine can't handle its liquor.  I mean, water.  I mean...  Actually, I'm not quite sure where I'm going with this.  MOUSES!

So the peep wrangled that washing machine like she was wrangling some poor, helpless beast at a stampede and managed to turn the moused-up dancing thing off.  Yup, she took that washing machine's dance card away and tore it right up, right there on the spot.  MOUSES!

Anyway...

The next morning the plumber arrived and said something 'bout there possibly being tree roots in the pipes and whatnot, not allowing the water from the washing machine to escape.  Said he'd be back with a pal, the very next week.  They were gonna do some digging and investigating and whatnot.

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'Twas two days before Christmas and all through the yard, not a creature was stirring, not even a...

WRONG!!!  There was stuff a-stirring all right.  There was the truck pumping out the septic tank and a backhoe and goodness knows what else back there in my yard, digging and pumping and making a whole lot of noise, to be sure.

Bottom line is, the field into which peeps empty their litter boxes failed its final exam.  MOUSES!

So now there's this gigantic-sized hole, not even a horde of elephant-sized weasels could dig, out in my backyard.  Backhoe is gone but it's coming back here very soon.  And with it will be tonnes - literally! - of rock and whatnot, too.  And pipes.  Lots and lots of pipes, I am told.  Gonna be a mess, I am sure.

Peeps are waiting on permits and paperwork from the Department of Environment before the digging peeps can come back to start working on digging more holes.

Hopefully this permit will be issued quite soon because let me tell you, there is no room for peeps in our litter boxes, to be sure.  We share a lot but when it comes to our litter boxes, share we will not. MOUSES!

Oh, and then there's the snow.

That's right, when all this stuff was going on before Christmas, the ground was soft and bare but now...

Now we've had two major snowstorms in a matter of days.  Gonna have to do something 'bout all that snow before the digging begins, I should think.  So I have a call in to the Weasel Syndicate, hoping they can send over some elephant-sized weasels who might be willing to take some away.  If they think they are stealing it, I think they just might.  Weasels are like that, especially in the dead of the night.

But before I forget, there's one more thing I must say.  Something I sincerely want to wish for you all, if I may.


HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!  Happy New Year, all.