Yesterday the slave went gardening ( a long overdue effort)………..
…. and the creature responsible for all those droppings. She squealed. She rushed out and snatched me from my slumber on top of the comfortingly warm stone wall, threw me into the shed and shut the door. I searched, truly I did, but Mr Rattus was not to be seen.
I wasn’t released from that smelly shed for at least half an hour and when I emerged ratless I was described as “an over-sized and useless piece of fluff”…..”whose gut is bigger than his brain”……
I wouldn’t parade all my grubby laundry in front of you but I have to tell the world that in the end I was vindicated – not that those wretches apologised to me for their verbal abuse.
The plumber and his dog were at the house so the dog, a foxy/Jack Russell X was press-ganged into service. Fearful lest he succeed where I had failed, I watched nervously from high on the stone wall while he sniffed around excitedly wagging his stumpy little tail but he couldn’t find the rat either. What a relief.
Th thing that really worries me is that while the slave still leaves sachets of poison out for the local rats she no longer witters on about being concerned that I might eat them……. I wonder why.