My big, fat rat is back. A while ago I blogged about an obese rat the size of a small cat. I hadn’t spotted it for around a year so I thought it had either met its maker or moved onto pastures new where there was a better source of food to scavenge. Well now the rotund rodent is back and judging by the size of its wibbly, wobbly, jelly-belly it certainly has been tucking into the mince pies. As the rat scurried off into the hedgerow its underbelly swung like the udder of a cow.
I’ve also found another Harlequin hiding place. The woodburner was smoking out the dining room so I pulled open the top sash windows (normally I just open the bottom windows) and a half a dozen sleepy Harlequins crept out trying to find warm comfort from the icy draft.
Mice are one of the few pests I haven’t encountered in my house and I raise a glass of Sherry to Meggy, my rat-catching cat. When we lived on the river Meggy would sit for hours watching a rat hole and would pick them off one by one as the rodents emerged sniffing the air for danger. Cleverly she knew where to sit so the wind wouldn’t carry her scent and within seconds they were plucked from their hiding hole.
With less than two weeks before Christmas nothing has flown out of my Christmas tree. No sign of a bat or even a tiny woodlouse. Nor even the squeak of a mouse though I do hope that the fat rat’s belly is heavy with turkey and not offspring. That would not fill me with festive cheer though Meggy may regard it as far more fun than the catnip mouse Santa normally gives her.