GUILT: THE NEW FRONTIER!

I SO PRETTY ONE DAY.

All Calvin's singing got him was a Big Cuddle, but WE got our cage cleaned!
Thank you, Ms. A: guilt really IS a great motivator. AND MacNutPie stopped scratching so we're going with the "dirty cage, not dirty mites" theory implicating mom as the source of our itchy-scratchies thus gaining clean cages and NO trip to the vet for mite shots...unless the thrift shop gets another microscope. But until then, our new mantra is:
IT'S YOUR FAULT, MOM. NOT THAT WE DON'T LOVE YOU AND SEE YOU ARE IN AGONIZING, EXCRUCIATING PAIN WITH NAUSEA, SENSITIVITY TO LIGHT AND SOUND, VISUAL AURAS, AND JUST WANNA JUST THROW Y'SELF IN FRONT OF A TRAIN IT HURTS SO BAD, PATHETIC DEAR THAT YOU ARE, but...we DO come first! So, care for us then y'self.

FURTHER and forevermore:
Quit calling the vet 'cuz we'll get on the phone and tell him "It ain't mites, it'z  MOM!"
We will, too, and you know it.

Normally I am a quiet, shy plumpy little girl. But having a clean cage makes me realize how neglected we are due to these stupis migraines so we convened TribalTribbleCouncil and passed the following resolution: Taketh careth of us before thou knocketh thyself out with migraine medicine taking a long, long nap
of dayZ, providing you also take care of us even in your sleep.

Okay, mom. We love you! Mmmm, Hugs, mom! Squeee, oh you are the best!

MacNutPie: "Coconut, ease up or she won't buy it."

Coconut: "Oh. This my first time at flattery..."

MacNutPie: "Then may it also be your last, Geez-A-Loo!"

Coconut: "SQUEEEEE ON YOU, MacNutPie: Pirate Wedding Cancelled after that!"

MacNutPie: "Can I keep my pirate hat?"

YumYum: "Would you two keep your domestic squabbles to y'selves, the rest of
us don't care, none of us have hats, we is Pirates on the inside! Don't be a baby!"

MacNutPie: "ARRRGH!"

SIGNED,
Your very own Sweet, loverly, not-gonna-get-my-Pirate-Wedding-am-I?
Plumpy Coconut, bridal (NOT-TO-BE) tear in my eye...