(2000) THE ADVENTURES OF PINKY AND PERKY ...Anon (as Buffy and Cleopatra don't want to be recognised because their reign was so short-lived) It was Ma and Pa's fault for not building the kennels quick enough following the move from something called 'the old place'. Born up one end of the long kitchen, we were a really well-behaved and contented litter which, of course, was just a ploy for when we got big enough to be effective. Think Ma and Pa saw through this as they got rid of our brothers and sister just as we were perfecting the early morning 'kitchen cavalry charge', smashing into the back door one end and the radiator the other, which made a loud clanging noise that echoed around the house - our way of ringing the maid's bell for brekkers which we preferred about 6am. The bell had to be rung several times and if the hoomans still tried to ignore us, we winged a little, enough to get our old, partially deaf (yeah, right!) great-granny howling our cause from the lounge. Things went a bit quiet for a while when there was just the two of us, with even Mommy-Dearest sleeping back with the other biggies, so we did a growth spurt to reach the wonderworld of the work surface. Unfortunately, we overdid the Code, 'the Siberian sense of humour', by concentrating our efforts into one week's mayhem, which resulted in Ma and Pa frantically playing with bits of wood and mesh in one corner of the jungle. Horror of horrors, this turned out to be an outdoor prison for us. That week was one to remember though - we managed to vary the state of the kitchen each morning especially for Ma, whose loving endearment to us became "You little s---s, now what have you done!" as she made her way to turn off the tumbledryer which we thoughtfully switched on for her without fail. Party-on! First came the six-packs which we separated and rolled across the floor, after piercing with our sharp little toothy-pegs and having a swig. We delicately wiped our chops on the kitchenroll which was really easy to unwind once you got it going. Next night, with no six-packs or kitchenroll in sight, we pulled the three-tier veggie rack right out to the middle of the floor and broke open the multi-pack crisps hidden at the top. They proved a good ground-covering plant as too did the dozen egg shells on another night. Confidently, we moved on to crockery, then cutlery, smashing two of the best plates on one occasion and pulling down a tray of dirty cutlery on another. If Ma had washed the cutlery that evening, like she was supposed to do, we wouldn't have had to clean it for her. Our curtain call was the untimely death of the electric toaster, smashed to the floor with such force that the plug came out of the socket. Ma said what a shame as we could have been electromocuted. On reflection, we should have taken longer to 'develop' but, nevertheless, we take pride in the fact that at all times we remained happy souls who smothered Ma with kisses each morning she opened the kitchen door to our version of 'House Invaders', and each time maintained the vacant look in response to a word called "naughty." Our aim is to be like Big Sis when we grow up. She helped paint our wooden prison by creosoting the inside - dipping her tail in the creosote pot and whizzing around for pebble-dash effect (which included Ma). Don't know why there was such a panic to get them in the shower, especially as Booz was to help paint our platforms blue a couple days later... Presently we have joined the pack in excavation works by the patio. A foot down, we are unearthing what looks something like hard plastic which is either a crashed UFO or a dead body. "Arnie", packed up and ready to go to his new home in Liverpool, where he furthered the Siberian Code and played the sob-story well enough to get to sleep on the bed.