...Er, um, Hello!

My name is Augustus. I have parents. Sometimes life can be difficult. I possess the great skill of being able to charm the socks off of anyone who chances to spot me, a rare occurrence indeed. [The spotting, that is; not the charming!]
However, for you, Dear Reader, I am prepared to divulge my deepest thoughts and perspective of the world, mostly because if I don't tell somebody what is going on around here, I am going to pop!
But be warned, proceed with caution: Living with Mummy and Dad can be rather harrowing at times...

Saturday, March 16, 2013

The Case Of The Disappearing Cheese Roll

Fresh from the store with her arms full of the intriguing and delicious, Mummy piled the contents of the bags onto the counter tiles. Being Man Of The House, a duty taken quite seriously, I supervised the unloading of the foodstuffs with an intent stare. Delicate aromas curled ‘round my nose and drew me ever closer to the goods, one in particular captivating the old senses. What was that distinctive smell? It was like herbs and…let’s see, yogurt? No. Um, milk? Never!

I’ve got it – cheese!

Bread, herbs and cheese – Nectar of the Gods, I believe is the phrase. Or is that Necklace? Nectar, I think. At any rate, immediately I found myself nose to nose with a clear bag of freshly baked cheese rolls (I learned the name because Mummy observed what she referred to as my “greedy stare at her cheese rolls”,  snatching the lovely things away in the process. Only my greedy stare followed her move and noted their final resting place next to the glass canister on the northwest corner of the counter. Note the use of the word “final”….

It is now the midnight hour, and the house is quiet. Or at least as quiet as a house can be with eight kits snoring simultaneously. I am thinking about those delightful rolls and wondering how they are faring, all alone on the northwest corner of the counter, so I am taking a stroll to the kitchen in hopes of catching a glimpse of the golden brown, fragrant delights.

Did I mention I love bread and cheese?

Mummy left for a meeting this morning and merely breezed through the kitchen, swiping her keys from the southeast corner of the counter on her way out the door. Her voice rang out briefly about the package of rolls looking funny but apparently had no time to investigate. After holding my breath for what seemed an eternity then sighing with relief as the lock turned, I fell back into a dream-filled state, resting contentedly on my down pillow and feeling all was right with the world. A few minutes later, I was refreshed and ready to prowl, though there seemed only one place to be at this moment.

Did I mention I love bread and cheese?

Snoozing again (mid-morning nap), I was jarred from sleep by the Mumster returning. Clank went the keys on the marble, plop went the briefcase, sigh went the Mummy. Then “Wait a minute…” went she, and “I thought so!” as well. Who has been eating the cheese rolls, said Mummy, who also followed up with “you little rats” and “I might have known – I can’t have anything nice.”

Enter Mummy via the bedroom door, producing compelling evidence that a Bread Burglar was on the loose – viz: one package of freshly baked cheese rolls with a whacking great hole where a [whole] roll used to be.  The remaining bread was merely a shell of its former self. Even I had to admit it looked pretty bad. Still, that was as far as admissions need go. There is such a thing as discretion, particularly when Mummy is looming overhead wielding a plastic bag that did indeed look as if a rat had been at it. And though I resented being compared to a rat, I found that sobriquet not half so unappealing as the idea that at any moment Mummy may spot the crumbs in my teeth which I had been deeply savoring.

I put forth the notion that perhaps it was rats, or at least mice, as the place is teeming with them (the green one can be especially sneaky, I pointed out). Friedrich and Hortense are lounging in The Pool as we speak, said I, and suggested that Mummy give them a thorough questioning before closing the case. She merely gave me a knowing glance then biffed off to work at her desk, leaving me nonplussed – exactly what did she know? One can never tell with mothers; they are simply vague at times. Still, I find it completely unnecessary to rock the boat, as the old saying goes. Whose boat I cannot say but this is not a time for research.

It is, however, the perfect time for a nap.

So off to sleep I went, having moved a couple of inches toward the sunny southwest corner of the bed. 

Tomorrow is another day!


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