Eeek!

Dear Cats,

I know I've been complaining lately about the plague of mice we've had this summer, and I understand that you're just doing your job. I do appreciate your efforts.

But I'd actually rather have the mice chewing the corners off everything in the pantry than lying dismembered in a pink and brown pool of regurgitated Whiskas on the back doormat. Honestly.





Looking on the bright side, I'm blown away that Farmboy, aged only two, can look at the coiled tendrils of intestine, soggy shreds of fur and disarticulated hind leg squelching up between his mother's bare toes, and instantly recognise it as an "Eeek, eek, eek!" (Toddler for mouse). A sure sign of genius.