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]