Well.....some of us may remember the Song of John Denver, *Grandmas'
Feather Bed*, though we wouldn't admit due to the fact that it may
just date us......as for me, I'm chronically 27, that's my story, I'm
sticking to it.........

I'm an artist. Isculpt, write, do watercolor and a myriad of other
things that will never make me famous nor pay the bills, but beyond
ferrets, it is my passion to invoke emotions and elicit responses from
those who view my art. I have been writing a book for middle age kids,
and I have made up a few interesting critters, Yes, there's a ferret
in the story, her name is Bubbles and she is a medium and a fount of
knowledge for her young owner who is forced into a magical world. But
the object of this note is not the book. It involves the project, a
weasel of discerning taste, theft, and the perpetrator.

I made up a character called a chub, which I followed by making an
armature to which I was going to fluff her out with these most lovely
ultramarine blue feathers that I found at the craft store, Until, that
is, they came up missing.........

Now I knew this had to be a conspiracy. I had caught one of the
perpetrators red-pawed on my art table. Chep'e, why is it always
Chep'e? the Houdini of gets into things managed to mountain climb to
my art table that is bistro height by first getting into the desk,
climbing the back of the drawers, bopping the front of the drawer until
it opened then popping on top of the desk. from there, she jumped to
the bistro level chair, two feet away, then up to my working surface
where the bag of feathers was tucked neatly into a shoe box that was
irresistible to this little nosy critter. I know this is how she did
it, because I put her on the floor, then grabbed a cup of coffee, sat
down in the kitchen chair, and watched her do it again, after which, I
mad e sure she was unable to repeat it a third time, by placing a chair
with its' back up against the desk drawers so she couldn't open them.

I didn't notice at first, the missing feathers, maybe I was remiss, but
I did notice them missing a day later when my sculpture had finished
drying, and I was ready to take the feathers apart to "fluff out" my
chub. I searched every where I thought a ferret could stash them. Under
the sofa, under the dresser I use for fert laundry, in the eight or so
little cubby hole boxes that I have for my ferrets to tuck into when
sleepy, the other deck that they have claimed the bottom drawer to
sleep in, so I routinely put a blanket there now. (Yes, my kids are
quite spoiled.), I was unable to locate them. I just knew that Chep'e
had passed them to someone, and that someone had found a new place to
stash them. Just who, and where were the question........

Hamilton (Ham) of the Ham and Cheese TP Incident, is such a sweetheart,
that his full name is Hamilton Theodore (Teddy) Ritenour. I never would
have suspected him, not in a million years, but now I'm wiser, I know
things......I am not so naive......

I have a cabinet that I have taken the one door from, placed a nice box
and some blankets in, for my little old cat, who is 18. Usually no one
bothers with this spot because the little old cat does not generally
appreciate company of the ferret persuasion. She makes this clear. But
she was on the sofa, playing Diva, so I thought I 'd better check, just
in case. As I approached the cabinet, I knew, I had found the den of
thieves, because one single ultramarine feather was on the floor in
front of the cabinet.

I get down and look inside the box, not only are all questions
answered, but I keep remembering that song *Grandmas' Feather Bed*

It was nine feet  high six feet wide
Soft as a downy chick
It was made from the feathers of forty-leven geese
took a whole lot of cloth for the tick
It'd hold eight kids,four hound dogs
and a piggy stole from the shed
We didn't get much sleep but we had a lot of fun
On Grandma's feather bed

I wish I had thought to take a picture, Ham was curled in a ball, his
beautiful cinnamon fur a stark contrast to the artfully arranged
feathers that looked like they surrounded him much like the edges of a
nest would cuddle little birds. I couldn't call the cops, I just wrote
out a warning, and hugged him up placing him in bed with the other
fuzzies for their night of sleep. then I took the box and reclaimed my
feathers. amazingly, he had not bent them all up, so I can still use
them. Guess you don't need a job as a wire runner yet,
dude.......well... maybe if you want to buy your own feathers! He will
be so disappointed when he goes to sleep there next, I'm sure that was
so comfy.

Just when you think nothing will surprise you, you are proven wrong.
This is the way of the weasel.

Cindy and the Slightly Used Ferret Gang

PS Martin pleads the fifth. He can neither confirm nor deny. It is now
classified information, and like the government, we will never know
for sure what the heck happened............

[Posted in FML 6979]