At the ripe old age of 11 (that’s 77 in people years!), I feel it is time to start compiling my tips and observations so you can benefit from my knowledge. While I have been known for the ability to sleep in or on a myriad of corners, crates, cars and couches, my eyes and ears have been witness to household hints Heloise could never have imagined.
Today I’ll start with the RUMBA. Beware…this is a dangerous piece of equipment. My story begins when my mom and dad left me in the care of their middle daughter.
Since the loquat tree in the yard was pregnant with an abundance of ripe fruit, I naturally ate my share (maybe more than my share…). At bedtime, I was invited to sleep with said middle daughter. She welcomed me onto her bed…but when I needed an emergency trip outside in the middle of the night, she thought just opening her bedroom door was sufficient. I searched for an exit and when none was found, I shamefully had to do my business in the corner of the dining room, next to the sliding door, which had been open ALL DAY! I then crept back to the warm bed and fell asleep.
In the morning, I was awakened by a blood-curdling scream…It was horrifying but not nearly as HORRIFYING as the condition of the house. Apparently, the Rumba woke up to sweep the floors in the middle of the night. It happily zoomed around the entire house cleaning until it met my indiscretion…when it switched to actually soiling everything. I mean walls, floors, curtains…anything in the way of that fateful spray. It almost sent the mom to the hospital with a heart attack!
It seems they would replace a Rumba that misbehaved like this, but the company insisted the battery be removed and the unit mailed back to them…whoa, they had nooooo idea of the condition of said unit.
So, my advice is to be very careful if you choose to employ this “time saving” device in your home, especially if you have a dog, or 2, or 3…just saying.
In case you are worried, I still have an open invitation to return, but the new Rumba is disabled if there is any chance of a repeat of that fateful night, and the loquat fruit is forbidden for me. Signing off for now, Quig