As we open our scene we can see two ferrets who have been *bad*! Yes, they have climbed over the forbidden top of the baby gate, (again) and made their way one by one into the darkened kitchen. All is still in the heart of the night. The refrigerator hums its tuneless mantra over in the corner. The coffeemaker sits waiting for the morning. The hoomins are asleep in their bed. Two ferrets slink over to the pantry doors, which were left open just a crack for the night. The dog, the Noble Allis Chompers, opens one eye when she hears the skittering of tiny nails and pink pads on the kitchen floor. She wisely decides not to get involved in ferrety matters (she has been burned before.) She stands up, turns around three times in the seat of her soft velvety green armchair, and snuggles back down to sleep. One ferret stands, and another climbs up her friend like a ladder to reach the bottom shelf of the pantry. From there, it's easy for her to climb up, from white coated wire shelf to shelf, until she reaches the top one. There, she seeks out a cylindrical cardboard canister with a red plastic lid. She sniffs at it delicately. Ah, raisins. The warm, sweet sun-dried aroma of raisins. This is what she has come for. She turns, looks down at her friend waiting below, and says "Look out, now." A muted "Heeee!" signals that all is ready below. She stands up against the container and pushes with one soft gray shoulder. The canister moves a little, then a little more. Then it is free, it falls from the shelf and lands on the linoleum with a THUD!, well away from Lily, who was hiding beneath the counter while Switch pushed. The can rolls about six feet before coming to a stop against the base of the sink. The dog, hearing the thud, decides she now has one more reason to detest weasels. Now we see two ferrets examining the canister on it's side on the kitchen floor. The examination reveals no damage, but the lid has come free, and there is a spray of dark raisins fanning out across the floor. First Switch, then Lily each picks up two in their mouths, and hop-runs all the way to the hoomins bedroom door. First one ferret, then another magically teleports herself under the closed door and into the bedroom. (Yes, they can really do that.) From there they scramble up the bed, using the blankets hanging over the side as ladders. Each lady carefully deposits her raisins beneath one hoomin's pillow. They make several trips each. And in the morning, I wake to find 11 raisins beneath my pillow, sort of fuzzy from the sheet and ferret spit, but I know that *somebody* still loves me, *ammit! Even if I'm not allowed to use the mouse without permission anymore! Alexandra in Massachusetts, Quietly sniveling. [Posted in FML issue 4196]