quoth the mouse nevermore

 

Last night at 2.30am, eschewing humane non lethal capturing devices laced with steak, totally ignoring bowls of supposedly irresistable aromatic poison pellets and also quite apparently thoroughly indifferent to a state of the art ultra sonic blah machine retailing at 34 Euro that's supposed to be able to empty a mansion full of mice in minutes flat, Mousekin opted for the doorway number four option and stepped into an old fashioned wooden mousetrap of the Dad's which Farmer Jones had found in a drawer (Ooh er Missus) and installed beside the piano.

He was a good mouse, a brave mouse, a clever mouse and a traditionalist at heart.

He took the cheese.

As for the aforementioned sonic device... I'm not totally writing off the concept. Since we switched it on, the Jack Russell has been looking a bit woozy and this morning I walked into a door.