Archie, our urban streetwise moggie who used to lurk around street corners with other scary moggies from Hackney, is metamorphosing into a rural cat, more interested in catching the local rodent population than chasing off any rarely seen competitors. When he first went outside (which was a little early according to advice but frankly he was driving me nuts) he could not believe the riches and excitement that awaited him outside. Sadly he keeps bringing the riches inside and usually a bit the worse for wear but not dead and still capable of hiding under kitchen cupboards. Archie then loses interest and loafs off to go to sleep. Which is where Tom comes in. Tom is not a cat but my long-suffering (of the cat not me!) husband who thankfully now works from home and so is on hand to catch any injured mice and expel them.
In London where our house did occasionally play host to rather nasty mice Archie was completely useless. Here in Wales he is supplying our mouseless house with new rodents who are clearly not happy being here and want to go home to their fields as quickly as possible.
I am now waiting for a National Parks warden to come and arrest me for disturbing the natural ecological balance of the Brecon Beacons.
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