Lieutenant Mick the Moose of MacDonald Farm’s Police Force is watching his newest collar, Saulie the Collie, through the one-way window.  Saulie, stubborn as a mule, won’t talk without his lawyer.  Saulie’s associate, Curvy Kit, exotic, short-haired, a dancer at the Cat’s Meow, is in another interview room.

Mick groans when “Lucky” Ed Shetland joins his client.  He is the associate of “Clever” Hans Trotter and both are known for legal horseplay.

“Time for the dog and pony show,” Mick mutters.

Shetland remains standing when Mick moseys in, says, “Moose, call me Mr. Ed.”

Mick grins at Saulie.  “Got you now.  You and Kit, fighting like cats and dogs, to create a ruckus so your aptly named pal, Cheeta, could pick pockets.”

Mr. Ed snorts, while Saulie just barks, “I’m no fly, you’re no spider.”

“Ha, ha!  Now start yapping.  And remember Kit is next door so no cock-and-bull.”

Saulie whines, “You think I threw the cat among the pigeons for monkey business?”

“Kit coughed it up,” Mick lies. “Said you was the top dog.”  In fact, Kit had hissed, “I’m no rat” and had promptly started to nap.

“You think I’m a sap, sucker!  She ain’t no canary.  And besides, we were just larking.  Not our fault if the gawkers were sitting ducks.”

“That dog don’t hunt,” Mick rumbles.  “This play has been your cash cow for donkey’s years.  Tell us where the loot is or your goose is cooked.”

Mr. Ed interjects, “Hold your horses!  Stop monkeying around!  Your case is a pig’s ear.”

Just then Mick’s partner Billy the Goat barges in.  “Mick, Cheeta just surrendered.  Seems some hens crossed the road, going home to roost, found him hiding, went ape, attracted wild geese who chased him. Says he’ll confess if we save him from the angry birds.”

Saulie looks like he’s going to have kittens and Mick smiles. “Now it’s dog-eat-dog.  Best deal goes to the first to eat crow.”

Saulie and Mr. Ed eyeball each other.  Mr. Ed says, “I’ll be a monkey’s uncle.  This is a horse of a different color.  What are you offering?”

“First to talk gets one year in the Wren Pen, the other five.”

Saulie growls, “That snake in the grass.  He’ll just let the cat of the bag.  Me and Kit have the lion’s share in a satchel in the Mustang’s trunk.  Don’t know where Cheeta has squirreled away his cut of the pickings.”

After Saulie is led away,  Mick slaps Billy on the back.  “I swan, that was more fun than a barrel of monkeys.  He swallowed that story, whole hog.”

Billy hee-hawed, “Saulie’s going to be a bear with a sore head, when he finds out that when we nabbed Cheeta, Cheeta screamed he would chatter when pigs fly.”

“Well, thanks to you we’ve got them both.  Killed two birds with one stone, three if you count Kit.  And the good folks of MacDonald’s Farm will get their goods back. Time for a brew at Dumbo’s Watering Hole.”

Lieutenant Mick the Moose of the MacDonald Farm’s Police Force, is hot to finally collar a notorious gang of thieves, including Patrick “The Crack” Parrot, Martin “The Brains” Magpie, and Carl “The Singer” Catbird. They even have a special jail prepared to prevent escape:  three stories high, all caged in, called the Wren Pen, built on an island surrounded by wetlands.  He and his partner rush to an alleged break-in at 20 Old Barn Lane, reported by Lil Red the Hen.  They arrive to find that Lil Red and her husband Nick have cornered a thief outside in the alley behind their house.  Mick enters the alley and shines his flashlight on a yellow-beaked green bird with angry black eyes.  Mick says, “Caught you at last, Patty. I guess your buddies scrammed.”  But Patty shouts, “You ain’t got nothin’ on me, Moose.  And I ain’t squawking about my pals.”  Then Mick spots a small bag lying behind a discarded hay bale.  He grabs it, looks in and says, “It’s a pick pack, Pat the Crack, that’s life in the bog’s no fly zone.”

Lieutenant Mick the Moose and his step-dad, Morris DeWaque, decide to go snowshoeing to take advantage of a glorious late winter day.  But as the sun climbs higher and higher in the clear blue sky the temperature warms above freezing.  They decide to stop for lunch, after which Morris wants to cross over a frozen stream and climb to the top of a rocky pinnacle. From the pinnacle, they can see rolling hills stretching to the horizon.  Last summer, they just crossed over on fallen trees, and the trees are still in place, covered by ice.  But Mick takes one step on the ice, and they hear a sharp snapping, so Mick steps back.  He stares down at the frozen stream.  “That’s a crick crack, Pa DeWaque, let’s leave the log alone.”

Dilly DeQuack, a fine figure of a duck, is sitting in her bedroom when she hears a giggle coming from the bathroom then water splashing.  She rushes down the hall and arrives just as her son, Plucky, finishes flushing a small stuffed rabbit down the toilet.  Naturally the toilet becomes blocked, and even vigorous use of the plunger does not unblock it.   She heads to the kitchen to call the friendly local plumber.  Soon Nick from Rooster Plumbing is on the way.   As she sits, waiting, sipping her morning green tea, she hears the flap-flaps of her husband’s feet in the hall.  She rushes back to see him entering the bathroom with his tool box open, pipe-wrench in hand.  Now Dilly loves her husband, whom she affectionately calls “Pa”, but a handy duck he is not.  All his previous attempts at fixing plumbing problems have ended in disaster.  “Don’t touch!” she shouts. “You don’t have Nick’s knack, Pa DeQuack, leave that clog alone.”

Ogden the Owl is sitting on his front porch enjoying his morning coffee, when the son of his neighbor, young Plucky of the DeQuack family, comes tearing down the street on his bike.  As Plucky rides, his bike’s gears make various squeals and jangles.   After a few minutes, Ogden can stand the noise no longer and takes charge of the bike and young Plucky and marches over to his neighbor’s house.  He rings the bell and Plucky’s father steps out.   Ogden fumes, ‘You need to do something.” Ogden pushes a pedal, producing a series of sharp clanging sounds.  “Hear the click-clack, Pa DeQuack?  Give the cog a hone.”

The day of MacDonald Farm’s Annual Picnic starts out sunny and bright, but now the rain is pouring down in soaking torrents.  Still, farm spirit shines, so even though the football field is flooding, the two Tug-of-War teams assemble at the appointed time at the goal line, in front of Paddington Theodore Wack, the newly elected mayor.  One side’s captain is Mick the Moose and the other side’s captain is Bill the Bull.  Paddington tweets on his shiny silver whistle and the teams start trying to grip the plastic yellow rope as they slip and slide in the thickening muck.  After about five minutes of struggle and failure, both captains approach the referee.  Mick says, ‘Rope’s just slick slack, Paddy Wack, let’s blow this boggy zone.”

The MacDonald Farm’s Annual Tug-of-War is cancelled due to rain but not before team captain Mick the Moose is drenched, so he heads to his favorite pub to dry off.  He takes his usual seat at the bar and orders his usual drink from the bartender: rum with water and lime juice.   The bartender, Darlington Franklin Wack is a very good listener so his patrons call him The Padre.  After about five minutes Mick gets a call on his cell and moves to a corner so he won’t disturb other patrons.  The door opens and a stranger, also soaking wet, comes over and sits at the bar on the stool next to where Mick has been sitting.  The bartender sees the stranger furtively eyeing Mick’s drink and walks over.  “Belongs to Mick, mac,” says Padre Wack. “Leave the grog alone.”

Daniel the Spaniel is window-shopping when the aromas from the coffee shop are too much to resist. (Dogs have an ultra-sensitive sense of smell!).  Daniel trots to the counter and points his nose at the display of pastries.  The barista named Patty Wack pulls out a cookie, but Daniel shakes his head.  Then she pulls out an oatmeal bar and Daniel shakes his head.  She tries again and pulls out a cheese Danish.  Daniel shakes his head.  Patty calls over to her manager Pete and asks “Can you help? I can’t figure out what this customer craves.”  Pete replied, “Just a thick snack, Patty Wack, give the dog a scone.