Our scene opens upon a moonlit night, made all the brighter and bluer by
the light of the computer monitor.  The ladies Switch and Lily have made
one of their forbidden midnight trips up over the baby gate, out of the
Ferret Room, and into the computer room.
 
Manipulating the mouse with soft paws, and slowly keying certain commands
with their pink noses, they scroll through the intensifying debate over
the practices of Marshall Farms.  It makes the little blue dots in their
ears itch.  They stop to sit and kick at them with a hind foot moving so
quickly that it's just a blur.  Kick-kick-kick-kick-kick!
 
Such a pile of dry kindling has been laid here upon the level playing
field of the FML!  Twigs!  Pine straw!  Wadded up newspaper!  Highly
flammable, very dangerous.
 
They slowly scroll through the burgeoning debate over 'Animal Testing'.
Their shiny eyes grow wide and round.
 
Whole logs have now been laid atop the pile.  Two by fours, railroad
ties, old furniture!  All it needs now is one spark, a single sizzling
flair of heat and light to set the whole thing ablaze.  Disaster!
 
What to do!  What to do!  The ladies are seen in black shillouette,
pacing back and forth with the greatest agitation before the glowing
monitor, whiskers stiff with fear.  The two stand, and hurriedly hold
a whispered conversation.  Pss-pss-pss-pss-pss!
 
Finally, one drops from the computer table onto the chair, and from there
to the floor.  It is Lily, Known to our black and white dog, the Noble
Allis Chompers, as "She Who Will Not Be Denied." And she will not be, not
on this night.  She climbs up into the dog's armchair in the living room
and drapes one of Allis's heavy black velvet ears over her back like a
cloak.  She whispers a command into that dog's ear.  The Noble Allis
promptly wakes, assesses the situation, and says "Oh s***.  Whatever."
 
The two thump onto the living room floor, and progress through the house
into the computer room, She Who Will Not Be Denied leading the way,
galloping as though to a whole bathtub full of raisins!  The Noble Allis
Chompers hops up into the computer chair before the monitor.  Lily also
hops up, runs along the length of Allis's back, (there was a canine wince
here, more a matter of dignity than of discomfort) and scrabbles up onto
the computer table where she rejoins her companion Switch.
 
Switch and the Noble Allis bend toward one another in the darkness and
touch wet noses.  Switch says merely, "Read these posts aloud."
 
And Allis does.  Slowly at first, squinting along the length of her
snout, trying to adjust to the contrast between monitor and text.  One
paw rests upon the mouse, only a pale blur atop the computer desk, and
scrolls as necessary.
 
The ladies stand just to the right of the monitor, next to a short stack
of burnable CD's and the answering machine with the tiny red lights.
Switch speaks.  "Ahem.  Attention, hoomins.  We can't heeeear youuu, we
do NOT hear you!" At which point both ladies stick their little furry
muffling paws deep into their blue-dotted, vaccinated ears and begin to
sing "La-la-laaa!" The noble, vaccinated, Allis Chompers' deep baritone
enunciates softly in the background, a vital counterpoint to Switch's
seemingly random, but actually cunningly modulated "Laa, la-la...LAAAA
la, la-la-la!"
 
Altogether, the effect is something like "Unconscionable, heinous..."
"LA-LA-LA!"
 
"In my opinion.."
 
"La-la!  I can't heeeeearrr youuu!  Nope, can't hear a word!" "Puppy
 mill.."  Here
 
Lily's sweet, bell-like soprano fills the small room with its' poignancy,
"Heeeee!  Hee-hee-heeee!" "Must not be tolerated by civilized.." "LAAAAAA
la-la!"
 
"I still say that PETA..." "HEEEEEEE-he-he-he!" "There is no convincing
scientific evidence..." "La-la!  Not one word!" "Hee-hee!" "It's people
like you..."
 
As we leave this scene, the complicated three-part aria rises and swells,
weaving a rich tapestry of sound and silence, of wonder and rapture, and
realizes tones of such richness and purity that I am nearly moved to
tears.  It is only with the greatest difficulty that I can choke out
"I caaaan't HEEEEAR youuuuu!"
 
Alexandra in Massachusetts,
confiscating the matches. Now
gimme those lighters, too, dammit.
[Posted in FML issue 4180]