No, not some Daily Mail style rant about immigrants...well not really anyway. We have been troubled for some time by a resident rat. Those who have been following this blog will remember the nights I stayed up with my useless dog trying to catch the rat. Well he seemed to disappear, and all was well. Up until recently, we thought we were vermin free and lived a suitably carefree and joyous life. Up until the moment recently when we moved a lot of the junk out of the garden in preparation for our move and we found three of the little buggers, living happily in a plastic crate we kept an old inflatable swimming pool in. Needless to say, these creatures were sent on their way with a stern word or two warning against their return, but all of this was to no avail. We have four Guinea Pigs who live in a hutch in the garden. They roam free in the garden during the day, and generally have a blissful existence. Well they did until the Rats returned....with friends and family. One family has moved in under the shed, and one under the studio. We sat in blissful family harmony over breakfast yesterday, watching them gently skipping around the garden. Now, it is fairly unusual for them to be so brave, but the recent cold snap has some positives, one of which is that the little buggers are starving. Here they were shinning up bird tables, and hopping through the snow. At one point, there were three little faces peering out from under the shed, almost pleading. I decided that now was the time to “unleash the beast”, which is not only quite scary, but also my favourite euphemism. Pepper, is, generally a bit of a tart. He barks at Squirrels, but apart from that has shown no interest whatsoever in the mindless slaughter of another species. Well today was a different matter altogether as he chased the little sweethearts all over the garden. My major worry now is that he is no longer dedicated to being my best friend. He is not as we speak lying at my feet looking up adoringly, but laying full length on a cold stone floor staring unflinchingly down the garden on the lookout for rats. I have lost my faithful friend to the pursuit of blood. Unless I am eating bacon of course.
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