One Down, One To Go

Well, another pet has died this week, and so — in keeping with tradition — I find myself here once again. I have no jokes to make about it this time, however; it was Biscuits, and I'm actually quite cut up about it.

It seemed like a good idea at the time to bury him in the garden. Admittedly, it seems like less of a good idea in retrospect. But it's too late to worry about it now. Ho hum.

My poor little fella. I will miss you.

Actually, it's a good job I can usually write without a family pet having to die first. Otherwise there would be a lot of unhappy children in my neighbourhood.

Sorry, did I say "a lot"?

I meant "a lot more".

And by "unhappy", I, of course, meant "whiny".

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Monsters And/Or Lunatics

I've just heard a mysterious and creepy bang from somewhere inside my room.

I hope it's not a sign of monsters and/or lunatics. Other than the ferrets, that is. Who are both.

Well, if I'm still alive in the morning, then I guess it was nothing to worry about.

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Introducing The Nobbly Wobbly

Today I bought the boys one of the best things ever.

I consider it a triumph of aesthetics.

The best rubbery thing ever?

And, as if that is not enough in itself, it's called a Nobbly Wobbly.

In fact, it's so good, it even – in some small way – helps compensate for the thoroughly miserable lady who served me in the shop.

I'm giving serious consideration to buying another to look pretty on my desk.

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Take It To The Bridge. Please.

I think that the ferrets may be trying to form some sort of rudimentary musical combo.

I say this because they're currently making a loud banging noise by lying on their sides and repeatedly lifting the litter trays up with their back legs.

Their sense of rhythm unfortunately leaves quite a lot to be desired, however. Personally, I'm hoping that it improves soon – if it was only a little bit more regular and rhythmic, I'd be able to GET SOME BLOODY SLEEP whilst they are practicing.

Kill Frenzy's looking quite good again right about now.

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Sawing Wood

One of those ferrets is snoring again. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear that they are just not happy unless they're disturbing my rest.

I wonder what he's dreaming about.

I wonder if it involves being woken abruptly by an ice-cold shower.

Because that's what just may happen to him at any moment.

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Peagate

It must be a conspiracy.

In fact, I rather suspect it's a pea-related conspiracy.

Not content with trying to catch me out with random mine-like legumes in surprising places – and clearly unhappy at my subsequent Internet outburst on the subject – they're now trying to poison me: they've started to flavour their pastry.

With what can, frankly, only be some kind of solvent.

Yes, I have been eating the pasties still. But only because they had generally been quite nice up until now, and I know now to be ever-vigilant for peas. It's a habit I think I'm going to break now, however; my lunch today smelled like marker pens.

And, yes, you may well think that I'm imagining it or simply being dramatic, but I even offered the pasty to somebody else to make sure I wasn't just being mad. They completely agreed with me without provocation; I didn't have to threaten them, or resort to violence of any form.

This can all mean only one thing: I am at war with the pea-lovers.

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I've just been to investigate noises from the ferret cage. It seems my boys were having a bit of a ruck.

Ordinarily, this wouldn't be interesting or unusual in any way, but today I'm rather amused by the large bit of fluff that had stuck to Hiccups' ear. It was almost as big as the ear itself, and gave me a wonderful insight into what Lieutenant/Commander Uhura would look have looked like had she been a ferret.

Unfortunately, before I could get the camera, another full-on assault from his brother resulted in the fluff being dropped again.

Never mind. I'm sure I've got some Superglue somewhere.

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Lost: Marbles

Another important lesson was learned today about ferret ownership:

If you are keeping ferrets near to where you sleep, always remember to remove any rattly toys at night.

I discovered this last night.
*rocks back and forth in chair*

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Do Ferrets Dream Of Eccentric Sheep?

Upon hearing a squeak of distress from one of my little guys tonight, I immediately raced to their aid, prepared to defend them at all costs from all manner of unspeakable evil.

I found them both sleeping soundly.

Now, I'm curious as to what Squeaky Ferret was dreaming about.

I'm also hoping that it didn't involve my nose, feet or any other extremity in any way.

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Crunchy Biscuits

And so it would seem that an unfortunate side-effect of keeping any dry-food-eating pet in your bedroom is the horrible crunching noise that you have to endure whilst you are trying to sleep.

And, yes, they probably are trying to keep me awake on purpose.

In fact, they are both a bit disgruntled at the moment, as they have hardly left their cage in some time. I was hoping to have been able to let them out before now, but the room is still is such a state that I really can't risk it yet. So, in a moment of rebellion earlier, Biscuits decided to knock one of the litter trays over, into their bedding.

Yes, that really showed me.

I hoovered up most of the litter, but left them lots of crumbs to enjoy while they were trying to sleep.

Heh. I'll fix their wagon.

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Hell On Earth

It just doesn't seem to matter where put things or how I rearrange them, there is just NOT ENOUGH SPACE TO MOVE! ARGH!

I am covered in bruises. I can barely move for boxes. The boys cannot come out of their cage to play.

Frustration is not the word for it – in fact, kill frenzy seems to be slowly working its way to the top of my list of things that seem like a really good idea right now.

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Toe Escape

There have been further ferret disasters. Tonight, I was alerted by heart-wrenching squeals of distress. I rushed to the cage, to discover Hiccups with a claw caught in one of his blankets.

The thing is, it is actually fairly easy to untangle him. Well, it would be, if he didn't seem to think that a really good idea when he's got his claw caught is to roll over and over, making it tighter and tighter, and then try to fling himself off a great height, hoping – presumably – that his entire foot will come with him unscathed and the blanket will remain behind.

The scary thing is that I'm sure this can't only happen when I'm around. They must do this to themselves where there's nobody there to help them.

Frankly, it's beginning to look like a miracle that they've both still got all their toes.

I do keep trying to explain the physics to them, but – well – you know ferrets: they just won't listen.

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Cold Temper

I had to have a cold shower this morning. I was most disgruntled.

It would appear that somebody kindly turned the hot water off yesterday and it was not turned back on again.

And – as part of a cruel and unfortunate coincidence – I decided to take the stir crazy ferrets out into the back yard for a bit of fresh air this evening. Unfortunately, for all involved, I realised after a few minutes that the place was caked in ant powder.

As were the ferrets, by this time.

Naturally, I rushed them inside to clean them, but the hot water still hadn't been turned on (and I don't know yet where the switch is), so they also had to have a cold shower.

And I thought that I had been cross when that happened to me – I now have barely any skin left on my forearms.

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Unwelcome Guest

Forget the hedgehog, there's a massive hornet in the shed.

Well, to be fair, I don't know that it is a massive hornet – I have no idea what passes for large in the hornet world – but it's definitely far too big to be a wasp, and it can't stay in there if it's likely to monster the boysies.

According to Wikipedia:

"It is not advised to kill a hornet anywhere near a nest, as the distress signal can trigger the entire nest to attack."

Now, I don't know how true that is, but I'm rather hoping that we can come to a peaceful conclusion.

Either that, or that there isn't a nest anywhere near the shed.

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I Know What You Hid Last Summer

I want this:

Ferret sou'westers: practical yet stylish

I want two, in fact.

But – before you go thinking me some sort of monster for wanting to dress my ferrets in snazzy raincoats – please know that at least I would never do this to them (even when they have been stealing and hiding my stuff):

Ferret tassel hat: impractical yet tasteless

Apparently, there are people out there who would, however.

This frightens me enormously. But that's nothing to how frightened the ferrets should be.

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There's Something Nasty In The Woodshed

There is a spider in the shed that is almost as big as my head. I am not impressed by this.

It's so big that I've got these horrible images of me going in there to feed the ferrets and it leaping off the window and attaching itself to my face, before implanting an alien in my chest that will burst out unannounced the next time I'm eating with friends; hide behind some shelves for a bit, whilst growing to a height of approximately eight feet; then slowly pick my friends off, one at a time – some it will kill and others it will take back to its queen to face a fate of bondage and more giant spiders – with its huge claws and lightning fast inner jaw. And, if anyone tries to attack it, it'll bleed everywhere and burn holes in the carpet.

I'd hate that.

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That'll Bloody Learn Me! You'd hope.

And there was me defending Grumpy Ferret's honour by claiming that he'd been really good and not-really-very-bitey recently.

I believed it. I honestly did.

But first, a bit of background:

There is a certain blue, knobbly squeaky toy that the boys play with sometimes. It's actually quite stiff, so they never cause it to squeak themselves, but if I pick it up and squeak it for them they go wild.

Admittedly, I've never been terribly certain if this is because they really love the sound of it squeaking, or they really hate the sound. I'm actually still not too sure, but Biscuits definitely got a little over-excited this last time.

As did I, in fact, after he had leapt up and given the bottom of my thumb the Grip of Death.

I'm not proud of it, but I think I nearly strangled him in my attempts to dissuade him. All he decided to do, however, was take this as an opportunity to adjust his grip and clamp down again.

I have counted a total of 10 toothmarks on my hand, half of them bleeding slightly. I also have an attractive lump of flesh that is now only attached in one place by a thin piece of skin. This can be flipped in and out of the surrounding hand on demand.

And I actually swore very loudly when I cleaned this particularly nasty wound up, which isn't like me.

Well, swearing loudly is very much like me; but being such a girl about a little bit of antiseptic really isn't.

The final outcome?

Well, he's right back in the naughty books. Although, I did later let him lick my nose as a show of good faith.

I guess I never will bloody learn.

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Presenting The Amazing Flying Guiseppe

No ferrets were harmed in the making of this blog.

Not even ones that seem to believe that they are impervious to gravity.

Give it time.

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Carnosaur 2. Oh, Yes.

I've just found a great-sounding film starting on the telly.

The blurb?

"A repair team races against time to control radiation leaks while simultaneously avoiding a horde of dinosaurs."

Fantastic.

This sounds like it could be almost as good as The Sound of Horror.

Do not think for one moment, however, that I am going to sit and watch it, then report back later – I'm still feeling the sting of Snakes on a Train and I think I've reached my bad movie quota for a good few weeks.

And, also, do not be deluded into thinking that I've got something more to say on the matter, because I'm really feeling quite terse today; as I shall demonstrate in more detail imminently.

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It Will Destroy Tokyo!

Biscuits is in an exceptionally bad mood tonight.

No one is safe.

"Hnuuuung!" says Biscuits, in a very overused photograph.

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Slow News Day

I'm just pondering whether or not tomorrow will be yet another Super Noodles Saturday.

I confess, they are still on offer in the supermarket. And we have purchased more.

It really could happen. Only time will tell.

More on this exciting story as it breaks.

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There isn't much by way of news today, as you can probably tell.

The car park's been working fine all week. I haven't had to sit anywhere – stationary and with my hazard lights on – looking like a twit whilst waiting for my knight in grubby fluorescent vest to come to my aid and release me from almost certain multi-storey peril.

Biscuits the grumpy ferret hasn't tried to eat me at all yet. (To be fair, he's still sleeping, though (dreaming grumpy dreams, I expect).)

The whole Fun With Busted Canoes part of my life seems to be disappointingly over. Technically, I could go and get it back as it's only by the side of the road, just around the corner. But that seems far too much like hard work – it's dead to me now.

And in a shocking break from the norm, I've nothing on my mind that I feel like ranting about right this minute.

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Actually, my CD/DVD drive is on the blink. I suppose that's some kind of news, albeit a rubbishy kind.

I tried to import a CD into iTunes this week, with disastrous consequences. It was like the aural equivalent of taking a £100 camcorder into the cinema and trying to film The Last King of Scotland.

Me being the cunning and tenacious sod that I am, I managed to find a workaround, however.
The things I do to for quality in-car entertainment.

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