~ Critter’s Quest ~

If you have children… Or if you had children, and they are now grown…. Or if you ever were a child yourself (wait, what?), then this story will take you back, make you smile, and put warm squishy fuzzy feelings in your gut, similar to that of gas from a Taco Bell Volcano Supreme Burrito.

THIS is Critter’s living room fort. It spans the entire room, and uses all of the chairs, including My Captain’s favorite recliner. To get into the fort, you have to say the password.

How do you get the password? You have to go on a quest for it, of course.

I had just picked up My Captain from the airport shuttle this evening, and he was exhausted from several days of training out in San Diego, and feeling sick in general. He wanted nothing more than to pop open one of his high-falootin’ fancy schmancy micro-brew beers, kick back in his recliner, and let Sir Monty of Stinky Butt curl up in his lap to bring his blood pressure down.

But he didn’t know the password. So guess who had to start a quest for the password, and was good natured enough about it to be resigned to said quest, instead of stomping his feet and ripping down the fort? That’s right, My Beloved.

Here was the beginning:

Aha! Cookie’s gravestone is in the Hosta Garden out back.

We’ll start there!

There, buried deep in the hostas and Lily of the Valley, lies Cookie, our sweet calico who lived to the ripe old age of 18 before she passed on to the great catnip fields in the sky.

We followed the smashed hosta leaves to Cookie’s grave marker, and found the next clue. Note to self: Remind Critter that henceforth we will NOT be placing clues in any of mommy’s flower beds.

Hmmm. My Captain wonders if Critter is crazy enough to mean the country road we live on.

We shudder to think of him crouching down on this road….long enough to tape a clue to the pavement.

Who knew scotch tape worked on asphalt?

The only ‘ride’ we ever had was an old Zip Line we had, that a tree took down during Hurricane Sandy. And the only part of that left is the stand My Captain and Papa built for it.

And it is all the way back UP…

the stinkin’ hill.

(Did I mention My Captain was tired from traveling several thousand miles today?)

What is high as an elephant’s eye?

Wait a minute, Varmint was in the musical Oklahoma earlier this year. We found ourselves singing:”The corn is as high as an elephant’s eyyyyyyyyeeeeeee.”