The DOG?  The forty-five pound dog stashed the insoles underneath the
200 pound ancient yellow sleeper-sofa that my grandmother gave me?  She
turned into a mist and flowed into the inch high space beneath said
behemoth of a sofa in order to implicate her housemates, the weasels?
(The dog, not my grandmother.) I suppose that the three pets could have
issues of which I am unaware.
 
Or was it unsupervised rubber-loving inch-wide weasels.
 
You be the judge.
 
I think we are having a problem with the flow of intelligence within the
FLO pipeline.  I suspect a mole, or possibly a rat.  Some furry four
legged mammal with a high metabolism.
 
Alexandra in Massachusetts
 
Switch the Kit: "Can I climb out of this flame retardant suit yet?"
Sabrina the Bat-Biter: "Yes, and put the bulldozer key back where
     you found it. Now."
[Posted in FML issue 3858]