Todd Cromwell <[log in to unmask]> writes:
>Nothing like waking up, feeling the urge to go, trundling into the kitchen,
>backing into your favorite litterbox, over the clay, scooting sleepily into
>the back corner, and Aaaaaahhhhhhhhhh, when suddenly an insane monster who
>weighs twice what you do sinks his fangs into your neck and pulls you
>forward for some unknown nefarious end.  You stiffen all your legs and dig
>in, leaving a straight wet line with a dollop for punctuation just before
>the end and two furrows in the clay.
 
Slinky here, speaking for the Tres Amigos...
 
Our "insane monster" weighs more like 200 times what we do ... just kidding
dad!  <hehehe>
 
Imagine this scene:
 
We get let out (YAHOO!).  We all know that upon starting a proper FLO search
of a territory that is suspected to have been infiltrated by the enemy, you
often get certain ... urges.  Well ... we, the Tres Amigos, prefer this
special corner of the livingroom (near the front door).  It is a PRIMO
corner ... we *highly* recommend it if any of you are in the area!  Anyway...
imagine our surprise when we look up , in the midst of business, and see
this shrieking monster lumber toward us (and not too gracefully, I might add
<hehehe>), snatch us up, and plop us down on that box of *dirt* our dad
calls the litter box!
 
Oh, the indignity!  Sheesh, the nerve of some ferret's NH!
 
Slinky (speaking for the other Tres Amigos -- Rascal and Bandit -- and dad
(Marc))
[Posted in FML issue 2005]