Mozzarella takes to the fields

Call us mouse relief agents. Only the little bastard won't come out and I am forced to threaten it with a cat.

After ten minutes out it jumps, and scampers off to join the other SIX mouse associates we have found in this house over the last few months.

In Squirrel's obsessive database system, this little scarp of vermin that ate my banana is called Mozzarella. He joins Nibbles, Squeaky, Stilton, Wensleydale, Cheddar and Emmental. Squirrel keeps a record book in which she draws a picture of each whiskery face, provides a passport number, records significant facial characteristics, like whiskers, and would take biometric paw prints if only they would stand still long enough.

But the dead one she doesn't know about. I hit it with a waste paper bin last week in Aunty Dee's bedroom at midnight and then had a big emotional squeal. In fact the trauma has been so keen I have felt only now I can admit it. Sorry Squirrel, for messing up your database.

Somewhere in here is Mozzarella.
Passport number 2562090.
Identifying features: whiskers.

Strangely it is hiding in case I poke it with a stick.
It deserves no better after what it did to my banana.