Alex, Alex, Alex - you silly mustelidaes servant - why do you keep
calling it "your house"? Oh, I get the concept. You and the mister pay
the mortgage, utilities and the like. That makes it *feel* like it's
your house. It probably should, in a perfect world, be your house. But
we all know the truth.

And about the tomatoes. Those are not your tomatoes. Ping Is He and
Princess Puma (names truly befitting royalty) have no use for tomatoes.
The tomato seedlings only exist so you can put them in dirt and
*that's* the commodity they find interesting. I'm sure that your royal
pair would wish that you would plant all kinds of seedlings. It matters
not what, only that the soil is soft and earthy-smelling, and that the
pots of seedlings are plentiful and easily accessible. That you wish to
have fresh tomatoes on your salad is... well, exactly that - a wish.

But keep doing battle, my lady. Early Britain's peasants eventually won
out over their original landlords. It only took them a couple hundred
years. Of course, back then they didn't have the furniture you have,
so it might take you a bit longer. I kindly request an update on your
progress, maybe around Hitler's birthday. Let us know how the good
fight is going.

I have to go now. My own landlords are unhappy with the freshness of
their water (even though I just rinsed and filled it up). They have
overturned the bowl in a royal tantrum, as usual, just so they could
watch me mop it up.

"Freeeeedoooooooooommmmmm........"

Roary
Albuquerque, NM

[Posted in FML 5918]