By Etude, chronicler of everything goofy about Grammy

Good morning, friends.
This is going to be short, but I have to share this with you.  As if you didn't know already, GRAMMY is GOOFY! Yes, and I don't mean that Disney Dog Goofy.  She is totally beyond silly... almost to the point of crazy.   And here's why...

Picture this... Grammy takes a shower.  Sorry!  Maybe you don't want to picture that!  It isn't pretty, let me assure you.   *Shudders*  Okay, well, imagine someone gorgeous taking a shower realizes she should remove the band-aid that covers her flu shot spot.  This stunning person then drops said band-aid on the edge of the tub.

Okay, now return to Grammy.  Sorry, it has to be because this gorgeously stunning person wouldn't be so goofy.   So Goofy, standing under the shower, water pouring over her head, opens her eyes and SCREAMS!  Yes, at the top of her lungs.  EEEEEK!
CENTIPEDE!  

Well, of course, we all come running to see what the commotion is all about and are totally baffled.  What is her problem?  CENTIPEDE, she says.  No centipede here, we reply in unison at full volume in an attempt to be heard over her screams. 

There!  Look!  On the edge of the tub!  

You talking about that band-aid?  Yes, it's a band-aid.  They are harmless you silly old goof.   Grammy takes a deep breath and finally calms down.

The joys of living with an doddering old fool with short memory, VERY short memory and blurry vision.  

Well, that's about it for this week... and probably more than you really wanted to hear.  See you next week, dear friends.

Comments are welcomed. 

by Etude the Dude, Chronicler of Mischief

Good day, Friends. 

Today's blog is short.  Grammy is struggling with another critter in the condo. No, not bats in the belfry though we anticipate there could be some in Grammy's belfry.

No.  Recently we were treated for ants in the pant-ry but now we have moths and they are giving Grammy ants in her pants.  *giggles*

Yes, you heard.... Moths.

Clothing moths.  Grammy is keeping them under control with frequent emptying of closets, vacuuming of same and everywhere else they gather, sweeping the bases of baseboards and the feet of furniture where they lay their eggs etc. Unfortunately, with all her attempts she hasn't rid us of them and one or two appear every few days.

Fortunately, from the outset Grammy has placed all knitting supplies into plastic bins with highly scented moth deterrent fabric sheets to keep them safe from the critters.  As an extra precaution, before sending something on to a client it gets a two week hiatus in a sealed bag in the freezer - long enough to kill off the critters.

Now, for us, these creatures are great entertainment.  They crawl out from under those baseboards or from nooks and crannies, wings flapping as they walk and gain strength. Then they flit and fly giving us something to chase.  Wohoo!  We love it.  

Poor Grammy, though.  She's seven years older and twice as wobbly as she was the last time she had to deal with them.  Not to worry though.  We'll 'help' her.   And if all else fails - she can call in the handy-dandy Moth Terminator.

Grammy here!  Yes, they 'help', chasing and playing with the critters but not killing them.  That part is left to me.  

Just so you know... It was moths that started this whole blog thing off.  Yes, seven years ago this coming October we had the Moth Terminator visit and do his stuff.   Read all about it here.... Moth Day

Sweetie, chronicler of all things goofy about Grammy

And this one's the goofiest.  Believe me!

It was a dark and stormy night.  No it wasn't!  It was a normal evening.  Aunty L and Grammy were chatting on the telephone.  Suddenly Grammy let out a million decibel scream. 

She almost burst Aunty L's eardrum. While they were chatting Grammy had to wash her hands for some unknown reason. Suddenly a ginormous spider ran along the wall beside the sink.  I must say, it was pretty big... almost as big as my paw, black bodied with very long legs.

You may not know this about Grammy but she is terrified of spiders and centipedes.  Truly!  Why?  Well, when she was growing up she would read in bed until the wee hours.  Frequently these creatures of the night would invade her room and run across her bedspread or gather on her walls.  Even her big, brave brother was scared of the centipedes in that house.  They were huge! 

Another time while helping her momma with laundry a pale white one jumped out of a drain when she turned on a tap.  It must have been at least 4 inches long, or so she says.  *Shudder!*  Her mom, who wasn't afraid of anything even cringed when she saw that one.   Results of these experiences? Grammy terrified forever.

Okay, so back to this latest crisis.  She was chatting, washing her hands and she screamed.  Poor Aunty L's ears!  Well, as scared as she would be Grammy couldn't let it get away.  Grabbing some TP she scooped and squished.  To be sure it was dead she peeled back the TP and NOTHING!!!!!   Where was it?  After searching the walls and vanity finally she found it curled into spider fetal position on the countertop and dispatched it forthwith... then into the toilet, FLUSH! 

You'd think Grammy could relax then, wouldn't you!  Well, not our Grammy!  Cleaning her specs... (spectacles/glasses) so she could see more clearly she went on the hunt.  Where there's one spider there is bound to be another.

AND SHE WAS RIGHT!  There where wall meets ceiling she saw a black dot, and another, and another... eight more tiny spiders...newly hatched and just waiting to creep Grammy out.  Well, they got dispatched too.   And an hour later, another six surfaced near the vanity and were deep-sixed.  Then into the shower, light on and another half dozen.  It's a veritable invasion.  This could go on all night!  *shudder*

From there the old girl progressed to bedroom, livingroom and kitchen finding one more teensy spider on the livingroom wall alongside a moth and they both bit the proverbial dust, tout suite. 

You must know spiders eat insects and this moth would be considered dinner at some point in its lifespan but, in this case the moth was 10 times the size of the baby spider so if anything it might have been the moth's dinner if moths eat spiders.   Something to Google!! Do clothing moths eat spiders?   If I find out I'll let you know...

So, all arachnids as far as we can tell have been TPed and drowned in a swirl of TW (toilet water - and not the sweet smelling kind you find in a bottle) but Grammy is feeling buggy.  This always happens after she sees such a creature, even if she knows it's dead and gone.  A piece of cat hair fluffs against her leg -SWIPE!  SPIDER!  A hair on her head flips against her forehead - SWIPE! SPIDER!  

The old girl's going to be twitchy all night or knock herself out swatting her head.   I think we kitties will sleep in the livingroom until this is over.

P.S.  Next day: And the body count continues to rise every time Grammy visits the loo.  Such fun! 

P.P.S.  It has finally ended.  The body count is well over 35... but she ran out of fingers, toes and kitty paws to count on.

Comments are welcomed.  No more photos, please.

by Sweetie, concerned, yet intrepid warrior against invading dust bunnies, leaves and other detritus.

Good morning dear friends.  
Oooo, that's such a great word, detritus.  Sounds so much better than stuff! But, I digress from my topic for today.  

I must tell you, I've been fighting a losing battle. Not that I'm giving up or throwing in the towel, but this issue is monumental, even somewhat overwhelming.

Are you aware that dust bunnies multiply faster than the cute little nose-wrigglers they're named after?  You aren't?  Well, let me tell you... THEY DO!!

I, Sweetie, spend most of my night-time hours chasing the insidious little beasties.  Of course, that's how I earn my room and board.  I'm not one of those chubby layabouts who expect 5 squares a day and in return flop onto my back for tummy rubs expecting to be payed for my cuteness. Nor am I a Queen or Princess to be waited on all day long.  I earn my keep. But again I digress.  

Dust bunnies... now, where was I going with this?   Oh yes. chasing the beasties.  If you will remember our very first blog was about invaders of a different sort.  Those critters flew at eye level, (Grammy's that is!) and insidious too... Oh, I won't repeat that story.  You can read about those flitters here.  These current invaders are silent floaters... they hover just above the floor, hide under furniture and come out to attack ankles, brooms and cats when you least expect it. ​

​I must say they are brave.  Braver than most cats. I've even seen a couple of them circling Grammy's feet in an attempt to trip her. If she ever landed on them they'd be goners.

And that greedy gobbler... they don't fear it either, until it's too late.  They are daring, I must say!  And yet, they haven't learned from their mistakes!  Why?  Because not enough escape that eating machine to adapt AND those that do are too busy repopulating their world.

In our house, well okay, our condo then!  In our condo there are no soft cosy carpets, mats or other accoutrement to warm kitty feet as we walk across the floors.  Oh, there's one set down for after a shower but then it is lifted again.  And I mustn't forget one inside each door for wet footwear. But those don't count. Nothing kept on the floor beside the bed for cold mornings, no livingroom/diningroom rug.  Nada!  Why?  Because we have a klutzy Grammy and have to keep the old girl safe.  Yep!  That's the truth.  And talk about keeping her safe... here's the skinny.

What do rugs and carpets have to do with dust bunnies?  Well just this.  They help control the population somewhat.  With no carpet DBs (dust bunnies) roam free and take full advantage of air currents to get from room to room. But, carpets are the original Velcro to the wee critters.  Float over a carpet and suddenly they get sucked down and held onto until they get stepped on or die of starvation.  Then the gobbler eats their dead carcasses.  It is a voracious omnivore and a scavenger so to him all is fair game, dead or alive.  AND we kitties know that.  That's why we scatter when he exits his prison cell for his hour in the 'yard' so to speak.  

Again I digress.  So back to those dust bunnies. Since there's nothing to stop them we kitties see them making their rounds, peaking out from under furniture - book cases, futon, armoires and bed.   Oh, and the fridge and stove.  We think they like the dispersed heat, especially under the fridge and the extra headroom beneath the stove.  The odd daring one or two will float on past Grammy to tease her but she's obliviously got her nose stuck in knitting or her computer.  

I give chase to them but without the carpet's help they are difficult to capture as they furl and slip into the nearest nook or cranny.  The Queen, Princess and Chubby layabouts could not care less... let them furl, unfurl, curl and wind their way around the condo.  No skin off their noses! But they should care!!!   They aren't thinking!

One day those DBs could smarten up and  amass an army under the furniture.  Then one day full battalions of them could trip and overpower Grammy, devouring her in revenge.   Then who's going to feed us!  Huh?

Comments are most welcome, as always. 

by Whiskers, the exasperated matron of mischief.

Just so's you know, right up front, I'm one ticked-off kitty.  Yes, I am.   No, I didn't remove a tick from my furry body. I don't have ticks, fleas or any other parasites. Cheeky readers, to even think that!

I'm annoyed because the old girl is unwell AGAIN... and 'we' are back on nursing duties.  Can you believe it?  You might as well... 'cause it's true.  

Sweetie and Gentle Mousie have donned their nursing caps and gear and gone into overdrive.  Honey and lemon in her Wild Sweet Orange tea for the sore throat, inhaled steroids for the lungs (for Grammy, not them) and another steroid for the sinuses.  Tucked in a blanket with heating pad.  This is getting old, Grammy! Really old!  

So, what does that do to us?  Well, besides having to manage the old girl, it puts a major damper on the mischief side of life.  Yes, it does!  How can we create mayhem with a pair of brown-speckled blue eyes staring at us?  EXACTLY!  We cannot!  And that ticks me off because that's what I am all about and what I had planned for this week.  

So, what to do from here... Well, let's see.   Maybe we'll dose her up on her meds, wrap her in bubblewrap and ship her off to some obscure place with no return address on the package.  Yes, I think that sounds like a plan.  

What was that, Sweetie? *Groan, moan, mumble, splutter*  Well, it seems the nurses have spoken.  I'm not shipping her off to some unknown destination. Such party poopers.  Nothing like putting a damper on life.  I tell you though, when they speak, we listen... Look at those faces! They are not to be trifled with.  *grumble, mutter, whine*  

What to do with the old girl?   Anyone have suggestions?  

Well, if we cannot ship her off into oblivion or some such place the boys and I, Whiskers the mischief matron, will make ourselves scarce.   

'But, before I leave... just a little quick update.  You remember that ant issue we discussed and had taken care of... Well..... Grammy thought they were back and freaked... maybe that's what triggered her 'whatever-she-has'!   

Saturday after her delightful afternoon with Aunty L she treated herself to a manicure and Mrs L, the manicurist, gave the old girl some herbs from her garden.  Grammy loves fresh herbs and this was oregano freshly picked.  While Grammy cannot smell it she remembers how she loved it and imagined how delicious it would be in her cooking, brought it home, took it out of the baggie and placed it in water to crisp up until she used it.  

Because we are destructive little creatures with plants Grammy set the oregano in it's jar of water on the balcony to use in a day or two, returned to the kitchen and an ANT was crawling around on the countertop.  FREAK OUT!!  Grammy thought the miserable critters were back but we reassured her it probably came off the oregano.
Well, unfortunately for it, Grammy dispatched it toot sweet. 

It was number 3 critter this past week.  Spider 1 was a sneaky little critter that was hiding in the angle between bathroom and bedroom doorways. GONE in a flash!  

Then, Sweetie and Etude were entertaining another on the livingroom floor on Tuesday. It was more like hockey for cats with the spider as the puck.  Poor spider wasn't happy about it but hey... check out how Grammy feels about those in the blog in Poetry by Rondo and you'll know how he was handled - well, not handled.  More like footled!  

There was also a tentative 4th but that was Grammy having hallucinations in the shower.  She freaked and almost toppled out of the tub when she saw this huge black, long legged thing on her sponge holder.  I tell you... it was NOTHING but a reflection of the sponge's shadow in the clear plastic holder... but you'd have thought the old dear was being murdered.​  The woman is HIGH MAINTENANCE!

​by Etude (aka Mr Attitude, aka Pinky, aka FuzzyBritches)

Friends, we thought we would be generous and give the ol' girl a break considering.   So we went back into the archives to our first blog... and decided to share it with you once again.   This is the blog that started off all our nonsensical writings.  ENJOY! 
*************************
​Does anybody know what Moth day is? Well, let me tell those of you who don't know and for those who do I want to have a commiseration pity party – but someone else will have to host it because the stench around here is unbearable despite the windows being opened to the winter chill.

Today was Moth Day at our house!! I shall always remember October 1, 2014 as MOTH DAY for the rest of my remaining 8 lives – yes 8, for my siblings and I all lost a life today, I’m sure. It was and is horrible, worse than horrible. It was down right NASTY.

Here's the background story...

​Grammy has arthritis and used to (note the used to) sit on sheepskins to ease the pain. Well, two sheepskins, 2 chairs, 1 Grammy and one preferred chair lead to one chair and 1 sheepskin not used for about a bazillion years. That was a mistake let me tell you. Never leave a sheepskin unoccupied or idle for more than a day. Keep it busy! Give it homework, sums, memory work, anything but don’t let it idle. An idle sheepskin will get up to unspeakable mischief. Yes, lambs may be innocent, sheep may be innocent but those skins... not a chance...

A moth, well, it might have been a host of moths but all it would take is one moth ventured into our condo and selected the unoccupied sheepskin to lay its clutch of eggs! The moth man told Grammy they only lay up to 400 eggs in their lifetime, but we can attest to that being inaccurate – more like a million, possibly a terrabillion.

​Well, that was the point when we entered the picture.

Grammy suddenly noticed us doing strange things, bouncing off walls, waving paws in the air and chasing the invisible. At first she said, Oh isn’t that cute! They’re playing. It’s so nice to see them entertain themselves. And her nose returned to her book, her knitting or her computer. And, this went on for days, weeks, maybe even a lifetime – well, definitely a lifetime of a moth when suddenly a friend said, Oh, I see a moth!! WHAT? WHERE? No, you’re hallucinating! Well, she wasn’t! Those moths had been having a grand ol’ time and so had we! But, let Grammy figure it out we were staying out of this one.

Scooting her friend out the door with a See ya! Don’t believe ya, but just to appease ya, I’ll check the house! and the great Moth Hunt began...

Now, Grammy’s a neat freak! Vacuums regularly! Scoops litter twice a day! Makes her bed! Dishes in the dishwasher! Clothing goes where clothing belongs – in closets and drawers with said closets and drawers closed... None of this throw it on a chair stuff, because she knows five furry felines will gravitate to and vie for that one piece of clothing that isn’t hung or put away and layer it with a coating of fur and a dollop of scent gland before you can say, Jack Robinson. BUT, Grammy had neglected to attend to the unused chair. But, to be fair, why would she? ... it’s unused!

Well, Grammy vacuumed, washed the floors, dusted the already dusted bookshelves, did her usual clean and NOTHING! Nary a moth! Then, quite by accident, well maybe not accident (should I say, serendipity), she decided to vacuum the chair she used and thought, maybe whilst she’s at it, just for good measure she should do the same to the other. Out came the chair from under the table and bingo! There right under her nose those little beasties were active in their sheepskin nest... procreating, incubating, eating and pupating right before her eyes. NASTY!

Out came the green garbage bags! In went the thought-to-be unused sheepskin. Of course, it had been used but unbeknownst to us. In went the beknownst in-use sheepskin. AND in came the paranoia! Major paranoia! Everything not washable and/or suspected of hosting even a single moth, egg, larva or pupa followed the sheepskins into the bag. Out went the bag and a second bag. And just to be sure, out went the two old rickety chairs.

So now we’ve had the great Moth exodus, followed by the great furniture and fabric exodus. What next? Well, the paranoia continued. Each and every book was removed from the bookshelves – and we’re talking a bazillion books. Each and every book was vacuumed; covers and spines were washed and dried. Once the bookcases were emptied, they got scrubbed front and back, inside and out. Next the walls behind and floors beneath were scrubbed too until the whole living-room was scrubbed top down!

This marathon of paranoia continued to bottoms of sofa, armchair, hassocks, dressers and closets. Yes, closets were emptied, every bit of fabric, towels, bedding, clothing washed, dried and all stored in vacuum packed plastic. Cupboards, kitchen and bath, not an item was overlooked. So, now those moths were licked! Or were they? Just to be sure all the bases were covered... Grammy set up clothing moth traps. Done! Paranoia on hold, have a cuppa joe and relax.

Now where were the girls during all this? Sweetie was playing! Can you imagine it? Not one ounce of concern for our plight... and Mouse – snoozing on the chair. Such caring, sweet sisters! NOT! Little did they realize... yes, they too were being banished to the balcony but did they fuss? Nooooo! Grammy picked up Mouse, put her in the carrier and closed the door...not a peep, not a squirm, not a wiggle! Harrumph! At least Sweetie howled... gotta give her that, but again, picked up and set in the carrier and the two of them, Sweetie and Mouse plunked above Ronny in the great outdoors, carriers wrapped in blankets and left to freeze to death.

And that left Whiskers, old, plodding, stodgy Matriarch of Mischief. Shouldn’t be a problem! The old dear! Haha! Did she give Grammy a run for her money or what! You had to be there! It was priceless! I’ve never known either old stick to move so quickly in all my 3 years. Into the bedroom, under the bed, move the bed, under a chair, move the chair... caught... into the carrier. No! Feet splayed and one good wiggle and she was free again. Back into the bedroom Whiskers disappeared... livingroom, bedroom, repeat exercise three or four times until she eluded Grammy completely! Well, almost. Grammy found her hunkered down between the sofa and bookcase with no escape except past Grammy herself. This time Grammy outsmarted her, tucked the tail under and lifted her butt and set her in through the top hatch of the carrier, slammed the lid and DONE! The fifth furry dumped and covered on the balcony with moments to spare before the arrival of THE MOTH EXTERMINATOR.​

So there we were howling to the neighbours for assistance, plotting our escapes if only we had had opposable digits and feeling betrayed. Grammy joined us, chair, folding table, phone, iPad, kitty treats and she had the gall to chat at us as though all was right with the world! Could we be bribed with treats? NO! Not a chance! Well, maybe! Oh, alright then, if I must I’ll eat them... but only because you insist, and I won't be happy about it!

The only one in all this kerfuffle unaffected by the mayhem – Mouse – our timid, afraid of her own shadow, doesn’t like change Mouse! She nibbled her treats, looked around in interest at all the activity and even ogled THE MOTH EXTERMINATOR.

I tell you after days, okay, a bazillion hours, well, maybe it was a couple of hours waiting for the stink to dissipate we were allowed back inside... but the windows are open to the winter chill, the stink persists and we’re living in it. But at least we are indoors.

No more outdoor adventures for me, thank you very much!

That whole exercise has taken one of each of our nine. NASTY! ... and we think maybe a couple of decades off Grammy as well. Now, let’s hope this is the end of the moths... because if it isn’t Rondo and I are searching for a new family to rule. Anyone out there with a moth free home? Harrumph!

Comments are welcomed.  Let's keep them moth free and funny.​

by Whiskers, Matriarch of Mischief

Good morning, friends.  Wow! The lionish start to March is making me antsy.  I would love to open windows and smell the fresh air but, it isn't to be.  At least, not yet.  But on to the topic of the day....

As you know Grammy has had to deal with critters of the more-than-four-legged sometimes winged kind in days gone by. If you check out past blogs including our first  and Rondo's poem you will find Grammy  has  battled many critters. She's also trembled and run from a few too.  This time it seems she is not retreating but fears it may be a losing battle. 

What are these fearsome beasties?  Ants!  Yes, you heard me.  ANTS.  Those miniscule creatures that work in colonies to the good of all of the ant persuasion... but not to the benefit of Grammy or us.  

A year and a half ago she conquered and destroyed ants that invaded from the balcony.  They were cement ants and fairly large.  At least large enough to see as soon as they appeared.  Grammy won that battle with sugar and borax.  She mixed the two together, placed them outside on the balcony and in strategic locations under the fridge interrupting their trails to the pantry, the cat food dishes, and whatever else might attract them.  They eventually took enough borax-laced sugar back to the nest and the colony died off.  Win for Grammy!

This new batch though are miniscule and proving to be much harder to conquer.  After dispatching the first flank who entered through the screen onto the windowsill she researched how to deter them and destroy the nest.  Basically, the same strategy as used for the cement ants should work.  Set out the borax/sugar formula, make sure there is nothing to attract them other than said toxic meal and then search and destroy any that appear anywhere other than where the poison stations are set. 

So, this is what she's been doing.  Peanut butter and borax stations are regularly replaced with fresh ones in the bottoms of cupboards, while the powdered sugar with borax in open lids is placed under the fridge and stove, all safely away from curious cats. 

Additional remedies she researched were cinnamon or bay leaves placed where the ants appear. Those were useless.  The lead ants forged a path through the cinnamon leaving room for the troops to carry on to their destination.  With the bay leaves they were tiny enough they just travelled beneath the leaves as though they didn't exist.

To be sure there is nothing to attract the critters cupboard shelves have been washed regularly and all food product that doesn't need refrigeration is stored in airtight glass or Tupperware containers and kept in the pantry. Even the everyday things on countertop - sugar, ground coffee, butter - are sealed in screwtop containers.  Leaving nothing to chance dishes and cooking items are immediately rinsed and placed into the dishwasher, counters washed down with vinegar and water and sink scrubbed.

Finally, Saturday it was thought the nest had been demolished.  Why?  Because the wingless queen appeared staggering confusedly and emaciated on the countertop and was unceremoniously dispatched by Grammy. 

​How do we know it was the queen?  No, she didn't wear a crown, but she was much longer in the body and striped. And quick trip to the internet confirmed her identity.

Grammy read the REWARD poster.  "Wanted DEAD with her photograph beneath it. In small letters below the photo it said, "Sudden colony collapse is your reward!"

Grammy was elated until she read the caveat beneath these words.  Did you know ant colonies are not necessarily monogynous meaning they only have one queen? Some can have multiple queens and while one part of the colony might die out the others will flourish.  These are polygynous and oligogynous colonies. AND queens can live as long as 2 years producing thousands of eggs.  Some species have been known to live as long as thirty years (don't believe me? Look it up!) producing millions, yes millions of little ant larvae. HORRORS!  So was Grammy's elation short-lived?  You bet!

Those little beasties are still appearing on the countertop in twos and threes and sometimes fours.  It's time to call out the X-Terminator again but it sure would be nice if we could wait until milder weather when windows can be opened.  Why, you say? Well, that particular solution is almost as horrible as the problem. 

Comments are welcomed.  Let's keep them funny, but not sugary-sweet. No need to attract more ANTS!

Grammy suddenly noticed us doing strange things, bouncing off walls, waving paws in the air and chasing the invisible. At first she said, Oh isn’t that cute! They’re playing. It’s so nice to see them entertain themselves. And her nose returned to her book, her knitting or her computer. And, this went on for days, weeks, maybe even a lifetime – well, definitely a lifetime of a moth when suddenly a friend said, Oh, I see a moth!! WHAT? WHERE? No, you’re hallucinating! Well, she wasn’t! Those moths had been having a grand ol’ time and so had we! But, let Grammy figure it out we were staying out of this one.

Scooting her friend out the door with a See ya! Don’t believe ya, but just to appease ya, I’ll check the house! and the great Moth Hunt began...

Now, Grammy’s a neat freak! Vacuums regularly! Scoops litter twice a day! Makes her bed! Dishes in the dishwasher! Clothing goes where clothing belongs – in closets and drawers with said closets and drawers closed... None of this throw it on a chair stuff, because she knows five furry felines will gravitate to and vie for that one piece of clothing that isn’t hung or put away and layer it with a coating of fur and a dollop of scent gland before you can say, Jack Robinson. BUT, Grammy had neglected to attend to the unused chair. But, to be fair, why would she? ... it’s unused!

Well, Grammy vacuumed, washed the floors, dusted the already dusted bookshelves, did her usual clean and NOTHING! Nary a moth! Then, quite by accident, well maybe not accident (should I say, serendipity), she decided to vacuum the chair she used and thought, maybe whilst she’s at it, just for good measure she should do the same to the other. Out came the chair from under the table and bingo! There right under her nose those little beasties were active in their sheepskin nest... procreating, incubating, eating and pupating right before her eyes. NASTY!

Out came the green garbage bags! In went the thought-to- be unused sheepskin. Of course, it had been used but unbeknownst to us. In went the beknownst in-use sheepskin. AND in came the paranoia! Major paranoia! Everything not washable and/or suspected of hosting even a single moth, egg, larva or pupa followed the sheepskins into the bag. Out went the bag and a second bag. And just to be sure, out went the two old rickety chairs.

So now we’ve had the great Moth exodus, followed by the great furniture and fabric exodus. What next? Well, the paranoia continued. Each and every book was removed from the bookshelves – and we’re talking a bazillion books. Each and every book was vacuumed; covers and spines were washed and dried. Once the bookcases were emptied, they got scrubbed front and back, inside and out. Next the walls behind and floors beneath were scrubbed too until the whole livingroom was scrubbed top down!

This marathon of paranoia continued to bottoms of sofa, armchair, hassocks, dressers and closets. Yes, closets were emptied, every bit of fabric, towels, bedding, clothing washed, dried and all stored in vacuum packed plastic. Cupboards, kitchen and bath, not an item was overlooked. So, now those moths were licked! Or were they? Just to be sure all the bases were covered... Grammy set up clothing moth traps. Done! Paranoia on hold, have a cuppa joe and relax.

For two weeks all was quiet on the M&M front when one night while reading her book Grammy was suddenly distracted. Something had skittered past her nose! No, it wasn’t the nightly Sweetie doing her leap arm-to-arm-across-the-sofa training! Much smaller. MUCH smaller! What could it be? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! There in the moth trap – a single solitary moth! The paranoia resurfaced! Where there’s one... there’s a potential for a terrabillion.

Imagine Grammy’s plight! What to do, how to conquer this foe? ... so, the marathon began again. Another massive search was on for the source but unfortunately none was found. Over the next few weeks more moths congregated and met their demise in the moth traps. Despite everything she done there was no other option... it was down to... call THE MOTH EXTERMINATOR. And ... this is how we lost one of our nine lives. NASTY!

Yesterday, Grammy began surreptitiously preparing for THE MOTH EXTERMINATOR due to his imminent arrival. (Note that 'surreptitiously prepared' means while we’re stuffing our faces and too busy to notice.) A few extra kitty carriers were removed from the closet and assembled. Snuggly blankets were placed in each. A doggie cage was set up on the balcony. Bathmats readied to line the bottom and two litter boxes lined with fleecy blankets ( we use these as beds) were also set by the balcony door. Well, carriers are always around – Grammy keeps a couple open and lined in fleece or fluffy towels for our snoozing pleasure – so when we’d finished eating and noticed them we thought nothing of it. That is, until this morning.

Suddenly, a coffee under her belt, Grammy went into Ninja mode... not Ninja Turtle but Ninja Hare mode. She picked me up. I thought – oh boy, cuddle time, but noooo. I got whipped out into the surreptitiously prepared doggie cage on the balcony... like a sack of potatoes... dumped in the open air. I could have died from exposure! Next, Rondo, poor fellow.... the same thing! Whipped into her arms and whisked outside, squirming (gotta love the boy for trying!) while Grammy opened the cage door to toss him in. In the ensuing turmoil – Whoopee! I escaped back into the condo. But poor Ronny... stuck in an open air cage on a frosty (60°F.) Wednesday morning, with nothing to keep him warm – well almost nothing... only two snuggly litter boxes with nothing but fleece liners in them. How will he survive this? Will he be scarred for life?

Then the Grammy/Etude chase was on... behind the bed, under the end of the bed, into the livingroom... it was great fun though I don’t think Grammy was enjoying herself much. Let my guard down for a moment and suddenly I was scooped and tossed into a carrier, door closed and a big sigh of relief – no, not from me, from Grammy. I howled as loudly as I could... You must have heard it! The desk sergeant left his post to come out of the police station a block over to check on the sonic boom. Fortunately, he’s a little hard of hearing and couldn’t pinpoint the direction of the sound but he sure felt the vibrations. Not only into the carrier but unceremoniously dumped on the balcony! NASTY – About to die of exposure, again! Then suddenly – a blackout. Blankets thrown over our cage and carrier – supposedly to keep the draft off, but more likely to hide the horrors to follow.

Now where were the girls during all this? Sweetie was playing! Can you imagine it? Not one ounce of concern for our plight... and Mouse – snoozing on the chair. Such caring, sweet sisters! NOT! Little did they realize... yes, they too were being banished to the balcony but did they fuss? Nooooo! Grammy picked up Mouse, put her in the carrier and closed the door...not a peep, not a squirm, not a wiggle! Harrumph! At least Sweetie howled... gotta give her that, but again, picked up and set in the carrier and the two of them, Sweetie and Mouse plunked above Ronny in the great outdoors, carriers wrapped in blankets and left to freeze to death.

And that left Whiskers, old, plodding, stodgy Matriarch of Mischief. Shouldn’t be a problem! The old dear! Haha! Did she give Grammy a run for her money or what! You had to be there! It was priceless! I’ve never known either old stick to move so quickly in all my 3 years. Into the bedroom, under the bed, move the bed, under a chair, move the chair... caught... into the carrier. No! Feet splayed and one good wiggle and she was free again. Back into the bedroom Whiskers disappeared... livingroom, bedroom, repeat exercise three or four times until she eluded Grammy completely! Well, almost. Grammy found her hunkered down between the sofa and bookcase with no escape except past Grammy herself. This time Grammy outsmarted her, tucked the tail under and lifted her butt and set her in through the top hatch of the carrier, slammed the lid and DONE! The fifth furry dumped and covered on the balcony with moments to spare before the arrival of THE MOTH EXTERMINATOR.

So there we were howling to the neighbours for assistance, plotting our escapes if only we had had opposable digits and feeling betrayed. Grammy joined us, chair, folding table, phone, iPad, kitty treats and she had the gall to chat at us as though all was right with the world! Could we be bribed with treats? NO! Not a chance! Well, maybe! Oh, alright then, if I must I’ll eat them... but only because you insist, and I won't be happy about it!

The only one in all this kerfuffle unaffected by the mayhem – Mouse – our timid, afraid of her own shadow, doesn’t like change Mouse! She nibbled her treats, looked around in interest at all the activity and even ogled THE MOTH EXTERMINATOR.

I tell you after days, okay, a bazillion hours, well, maybe it was a couple of hours waiting for the stink to dissipate we were allowed back inside... but the windows are open to the winter chill, the stink persists and we’re living in it. But at least we are indoors.

No more outdoor adventures for me, thank you very much!

That whole exercise has taken one of each of our nine. NASTY! ... and we think maybe a couple of decades off Grammy as well. Now, let’s hope this is the end of the moths... because if it isn’t Rondo and I are searching for a new family to rule. Anyone out there with a moth free home? Harrumph!