Spoilsport

That Rachel, what a bad sport she is. Hears a mouse pleading most entertainingly for mercy, and she comes haring downstairs. She doesn’t know if it’s the last, lost mouse, or a new one I’ve brought in for her, and I’m not telling. Humans can’t tell one mouse from another, I reckon; they really are altogether pathetic when it comes to these delightful little toys creatures.

Anyway, she shoos me and the dog away, puts this nasty little black plastic box thing in front of the mouse, who is handily cornered into a very tight spot, just right for a good game of Cat and Mouse, and covers it all with a tea towel. “B**gger off, Millie!” she says.

Well, of course, given an opportunity like that the mouse is going to cheat, so it runs inside the black box and Rachel goes off with it – to let it go! How mad is that!

She wouldn’t let me or the dog come with her.

But I know where I can find more…..

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