One day last week Jay came in the house most annoyed. He had been sorting the recycling when he heard a noise. He turned around to see a rat nibbling its way into his shed. Realising he had been spotted the rat raced to a different corner and started to burrow underneath.
Jay came in swearing about the rat, dumped the recycle box and headed back out again to block up any potential holes. Only the rat was smarter than that. On inspection the next day James found one blockade pushed in and the other burrowed under. To put it bluntly, I had one seriously pissed off husband. Stronger blockades were set and I made many sympathetic noises to rants about “bloody vermin”.
On Sunday afternoon the girls wanted to play in the garden. So after Wellington’s were put on and snuggly warm jumpers distributed they headed out. It was only after a couple of minutes there were shouts of:
“Daddy! Come here quick!”
“Mummy, look under the barbecue!”
James and I headed out to discover under the barbecue a gift from Sparky. Now normally gifts from our cat are not appreciated (especially the partially skinned, decapitated, disemboweled mouse left at the front door last week) but this present was more than welcome. It was a rat. Maybe not the rat, but Sparky was the hero of the day.