From Miteuhbin to Couldahappun

It was a really tired, surly, grumpy morning.  A three coffee dawn to say the least.  And I knew why.  The why possessed a total of eight legs and two tails, and was immensely satisfied with itself.

I needed to get the Beagle Posse together to discuss my displeasure, but they were unwilling to schedule a meeting until I had retrieved some cheese from the fridge for treats.  Finally I could get their attention, at least until the Cheddar ran out.

“Posse, you kept us up most of the night. “ I counted” at least three lengthy trips to the back for bumping, scratching, yipping, and digging among the garden tool bins.  Right under our windows.  You better explain.”

“Oh,” said Tuppence, “It turned out there was nothing there.  You didn’t have to wake up.  We took care of it.”

Through gritted teeth.  “That’s the POINT. We didn’t have to wake up.  But your noises did the job, didn’t they?”

Tommy spoke.  “Well, if you worry in the night, and sleep so lightly, you’re lucky to have us to make sure no monsters or rodents disturb you.”

I asked, “What did you think was there last night?”

Tuppy condescended to explain.  “It was a mean old Miteuhbin.”

“And what’s that?”

“A Miteuhbin will scare you worse than anything,” said Tommy.  “You go to all the trouble of chasing it, barking at it, snarling and growling, and you find out that it wasn’t there.  But it Miteuhbin.  You can never be too careful about a Miteuhbin.”

“So,” I say, “It turns out there was nothing there, and all of the noise was for nothing.  You kept us up for nothing.  Just what form of monster in the garden were you so worried about?  You know how Deborah hates it when you dig in the garden.”

“We saved you,” said Tuppence with a smug flip of the tail.  “For all you know, there could have been an Ogre in the Oleanders.”

“Yes,” joined Tommy. “Or a Prowling Panther in the Petunias.”

“Posse, don’t you dare start…”  Too late, they were rolling.

“A Creeping Criminal in the Crocus.”

They were giggling now.  Nothing is more unnerving than beagles giggling as a human squirms and stews.

“A Reprobate in the Roses.”

“A Deadly Danger in the Daisies.”

“A Crook in the Chrysanthemums.”

I was beginning to groan in pain.

Tuppence stood thinking.  Then, “A Nattering No Good, Nasty, Ner’do well in the Nasturtiums.”

“Oh, THAT was a good one,” snapped Tommy.  And they turned to High Paw each other, and do something like a beagle end zone dance.

I finally broke.   “Hey!  There were none of those.”

“Nope,” said Tommy “But, there was the Miteuhbin.  Not to mention the danger of a Couldahappun.”

Leaving me moaning on the couch, the Posse walked away.  Triumphant again.  “I heard Tuppy tell Tommy, “And that’s how you shut him up.”