Thursday, 9 September 2010
Look at them. Butter wouldn't melt in their mouse; sorry MOUTH.
It's been a while since presents were left for me in the house. Usually it's a nice live frog, discoverfed at 6am as I come downstairs, perhaps something in kit form, often with parts missing. Once a slow worm was coming through the cat flap with a cat attached - but the resulting scream gave it other ideas and it slithered away thank heavens.
Today, as I am welcomed home by my 2 wonderful furry friends I spot a dead tiny mouse on the red rug in the conservatory. As I exclaimed 'who brtought that it?', Charlie (left picture) quietly went and laid down beside and hid it from view with his arm. Did he think I'd not spotted it? Did he think a cuddle would bring it back to life? I don't like mice but I wouldn't hurt one - I think they must live in the alley up the side of my house, an extension of my neighbour's drive which has to be kept free so people in the middle terrace next to me have a fire exit. I guess in a fire you'd not mind the mice, slow worms, weeds et al.
At least Ted has the sense to keep out of my way under the dining table. Poor mouse. I've not had hunting cats before, perhaps I was lucky, perhaps they were lazy. I'd rather these 2 teenagers (14 years) gave up this blood sport.