Of cubits, and rodents and things

Not to worry – I haven’t given up on the Ark. I just may have to revise my plans a bit. First, I want to make sure that I’ve got room for everyone, but second, the original directions have left me a bit confounded:

The length of the ark shall be three hundred cubits, the breadth of it fifty cubits, and the height of it thirty cubits. A window shalt thou make to the ark, and in a cubit shalt thou finish it above; and the door of the ark shalt thou set in the side thereof; with lower, second, and third stories shalt thou make it.

What the devil is a cubit? When I went to Home Depot, I couldn’t find any measuring tapes that used cubits, and when I went to an employee to see if he could help me cut the wood into the appropriate lengths in cubits, he just looked at me blankly and told me that he’d have to find a supervisor. Of course, with the look he was giving me, he might have been going to call the police. Which might have been due to the fact that he was talking to a dog who was asking about cubit lengths of wood. But I could be wrong.

Anyway, I’m working on new design plans for the Ark. At least I’ve got some dry weather now, so I shalt not be hammereth-ing in the rain. And the new plans are going to be in feet and inches. Because cubits must be part of the metric system, and they didn’t teach us the metric system where I went to Puppy School.

In Operation Whack-A-Squirrel news, I have been practicing diligently with my training tools, but I got a little diverted yesterday. And in pre-diversion diversion, can I "forget" to bring the squirrels aboard when we launch the Ark? Just asking....

Um. Apparently, I’m a mouser. Really. Of course, I didn’t realize that it was a mouse – I just thought it was a squeaky toy. That moved. Uh-oh. Anyway, I have protected the house from a potential mouse invasion. I had to do it. TaiChi doesn’t care about the mice – as long as they don’t walk off with too much of her dinner, and Bufus, well, he’s not exactly a mouser. As a rescue kitty, he came to Dad de-clawed, and over the millennia years, he has lost all of his teeth due to his bad brushing habits inability to hold on to a toothbrush. So basically, if Bufus were to kill mice, he’d have to sit on them. Heehee. Or gum them to death.

Anyway, Mom did NOT get any pictures of my handiwork.

However, as I was focused on Defending the Homefront From Mousies, the Other Enemy was on the move. Or taking a lunch break, depending on how you look at it.

So I will get back to my patrolling duties tomorrow. Because the Rocky Creek Scotties have PROOF of what happens when dogs are not allowed to patrol a property. I think this is a shocking documentary that should be seen by all OWAS members.

So, time to go back to the training tools. I’m gonna be ready for them tomorrow!

Note from Fi’s Mom: Apparently she is a mouser. Eeech. Hopefully most of our mice have already been eradicated by other means, and this was just a rogue mouse. I am thankful, however, that she just killed it, and didn’t a) offer it to me as a gift, or b) eviscerate it. Yuck. And since I can’t close a post with that image, here’s a picture of Fiona during her panther imitation!

*Kissey face*

-Fiona