Last night I sent the girls up to get ready for bed and before i could join then, there were screams and cries and wailing of gigantic proportions. The Hamster cage had been knocked off the desk where it sat and was in pieces. (Two guesses who pushed it off) Hamsters no where in sight - which was a good sign. No fur, no little feet, no nothing. Looking around the room and thinking they could be anywhere, P sent K1 downstairs for a flashlight. From DOWNSTAIRS she screamed (not a mere yell, oh no) that the cats had one cornered in the front room.
Downstairs? How the heck did it get downstairs? Was it carried? Did it jump?
She grabbed it - it was Salsa, and aside from Post-traumatic-stress-syndrome, it appeared to be perfectly fine.
So, one found, but one still in some unimaginable terror so the wails and screams and drama continued. After about 30 minutes of looking, and watching the cats, and even letting the little dogs (which are SUPPOSED to be Ratters) in, P noticed that one cat, Scooter, kept returning to our bedroom. Belle the dog went in there a few times, but all the commotion made by the girls, kept her too distracted. Jasper - the other cat - likes his food well cooked and on a plate - he wasn't much help. Sawyer never once moved from his position on the floor - no help at all.
Tabasco was located behind the Highboy. (ALSO DOWNSTAIRS, What the heck!?) After much screaming and chasing him around the room (with him ending up on my foot and making me scream too) he was caught and looks in good health as well.
Go figure. I told the cats I was mighty disappointed in their feline abilities, but in this case - it was a good thing.
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