I woke up today to the sound of Kerthunk, Kerthank, ribbbbbbbbllllllllllllllllle, whack, ribbbbbbbbbbbbble, whack, thunk. That could only have meant one thing, and I was right. Mouse, who has not lifted a paw to play with anything in the last 5 years, had decided to help me with sorting out some beads. These were not just any beads. These were beads I like to call "my special beads." They consist of all the things that I really, really like ... one-of-a-kinds, 14-kt gold charms, sterling silver, very old, very vintage beads, fragile beads, sentimental beads, charms and pendants, expensive imported beads.....you get my drift. Last night in a fit of compulsive sorting frenzy, I had dumped them all out on my desk, and was just looking through them, touching them, planning projects for them in my head. Then I got tired. Real tired. So tired, that I did not think I could put them all back again. So I left them. There they were....all spread out all over the little "blanket" I usually bead upon. I figured I would be able to put them away the next day when my eyes were open and my mind was more engaged in what I was doing. Mouse figured differently. She figured that I had left all those sparkly and rollable beads just for her. And, she was going to take advantage of our gently sloping wooden floor in this, my crafty sanctuary, to really have some fun. Fun she certainly seemed to have had. By the time my sleep-sodden brain realized just what the "tlanks" and "rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrtinks" were, and I could hobble frantically to my bead sanctuary, she had managed to unload most of my precious stash from the desk. Thankfully, because of the way I had positioned the beads in between two boxes just in case anyone came along and bumped them, the process of desk to floor involved first, a move to my chair, where they then could easily be batted to the floor. This extra step at least ensured that most of them were left safe and secure, and had escaped from those crazy paws of the now infamous bead-snatcher formally known as Mouse. So there you have it. A lesson learned and beads probably lost, and further proof of the discriminating taste of our feline friends. Why after all, should they settle for a $1.99 rodent-shaped, catnip-soaked hunk of rabbit fur, when if they bide their time, even years maybe, they can have solid gold, or even better, delicately hollow, hand-blown, antique Italian beads to bat about while their (dare I say it...."mistresses") sleep their bead-brained lives away. I should be proud to know that my (dare I say this either ...."pet") has such exquisite tastes, but it's hard to do while she is licking her shoulder indifferently, ignoring me, as if to say, "not me......the dog must have done it."