A.K.A. High Jinks & Hullabaloo

I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in a year, not since the terrorists moved in. Bloodshed, destruction, and damage are the new normal. My body is scarred and my psyche aches for peace yet the reign of terror persists.  

In need of feline mercenaries for rodent control, we thought, Let’s get cats!  It will be fun! They are so cute!  They were nameless for days while we got to know them, examine their personalities, to ensure we dressed them in suitable nomenclature. Reggie and Gretta? No.  Onyx and Ruby? No. Jellybean and Slinky? No. Somehow, Dave got the naming power, and I have to admit, he is usually much better at this than I am. Marvin and Rosie? Yes.


When I couldn’t find an earring, I feared that I had dropped it and that it had probably been vacuumed up. But then I watched as Marvin hooked a claw under an earring I had on the dresser, jump down with it in his larcenous little paw, prance over to the bathroom, and proceed to actually throw it in the sink and then coax it down the drain.  He turned and looked at me over his shoulder, slow blink, and I swear a smile. His twitchy tail confessed the theft. Dave removed the trap from the sink to retrieve the piece of jewelry for me. He plucked it from a disgusting mass of what appeared to be black and slimy decomposing hair and placed it on the counter. It was not the same earring I had seen Marvin throw into the sink.  Five times Dave drew a different earring from the hideous body of rotting matter. He was courageous and continued his search and rescue objection despite the repugnant circumstance. I pretended to help, but mostly just gagged. That was when we learned that Marvin is a kleptomaniac. I wonder what else has gone missing.


It was so cute the first time we saw Rosie put on her coquettish affectation.  Like a prairie dog, she sat back on her butt and straightened her back — a flirty move that no human could resist.  Waving her claw-exposed paws around in the air was a silent siren song so tempting that I bent to lift her into a loving snuggle only to be brutalized.  Scars from the first bloody lacerations remain. Sadly, I have not learned to resist the temptation to force my love upon Rosie. She calls to me. Then she strikes.  And then I bleed.

Dave reminded me why we adopted this brother-sister team.  Yes, we have not seen evidence of mice since they moved in.  What we have seen …

  • Broken eggs on the kitchen floor
  • A shredded lampshade
  • Houseplants sequestered and slowly dying in a closed room
  • Phone chargers chewed through
  • Clothing torn apart
  • Couch destroyed
  • Golden retriever with a nervous breakdown

In spite of all of it, we still love them because they are just so damn cute!  But their names are wrong. We should have gone with High Jinks and Hullabaloo.

1 Comment

  1. Hi Sara,
    These two are my favorite!! They look so innocent and unassuming. :-} So funny!
    Loving this.


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