SUMMER DAYS FOR YAMMER
Not again! Ann found her flower beds dug up. Planters were knocked over. Bulbs that were to produce beautiful flowers, gone. Dirt was spread over the entire patio. This was the fourth time her expensive bulbs had been taken. She blamed the sleepy old dog Yammer.
“I’m gonna skin that mutt,” she fumed. She yelled for Yammer to come here. The lazy dog was resting in a cool hollow he had dug in the dirt under the patio. He sat in front of her, listened while she went over and over that he was not allowed to dig in her flowers. He yawned.
Ann’s husband arrived home late, slightly tipsy, singing Jingle Bells. He tripped, coming face to face with several pretty kitties playing in Ann’s flower pots. “Hey Ann,” he yelled, “Come down here, there’s a mess of cats playing in your flowers.”
Ann went flying downstairs. She took one look and broke out laughing. Her husband said, “Old Yammer is off the hook now, its those darn cats.”
She told him to get a good look at the cats. He leaned closer. Funny looking cats, they all had masks. Ann grinned, “They’re racoons, I love racoons.” Yammer flopped onto the patio beside Ann. She petted him. “And to think all this time I blamed you Yammer, mommy’s so sorry.”
In the cool of the night, old Yammer used his nose to hide his latest batch of stolen bulbs. He liked racoons too, they dug the bulbs for him. Summer was so boring. Burying all those bulbs was fun. Tomorrow night they’d hit the neighbors. He yawned.
