After Night No Questions Asked
Panky perks up after a foiled escape attempt, already planning to blast his way out next time or as soon as he can pronounce that.
Pete and I cleaned and scoured and vacuumed and mopped and laundered for a week before Miss Sasha, Mr. Sasha and Panky arrived for a sleep over. The cats made themselves scarce. Five people, one of whom has not developed an inside voice, put up a racket. Every so often Sweetpea would slink down the stairs, catch a glimpse of Panky, say, "What the hell is THAT?" and flee. Miss Sasha left in the morning with Dad's tiny baking forms, one of Dad's working notebooks and one of Pete's authoritative pastry books. Mr. Sasha left with ideas for container gardening in North Dakota. Panky left needing a nap and better alibis.
They were at our house for a total of 17 hours and three days later I'm still falling asleep in my V8 Juice.