Andale! Andale! Arriba! Arriba! Yii-hah!

Remember back in May when I told you about the mice that the cat dragged in and who had then found a home living behind the cupboard on the veranda?
I was sure I had evicted them all, but still there was the nagging feeling that there still was one left. And besides, there were tell-tale signs. However, mum refused to see them or believe me, for whatever reason.
Anyway, today she's cleaning the veranda (quite honestly, I think she uses work to get her mind off things, which doesn't surprise me) and suddenly she calls me with the words, "There's a mouse on the veranda, can you help me move the cupboard?" Then she wakes up the cat, who earlier has eaten what seemed to be his whole weight in fish, and tries to interest him in a mouse hunt.
Well, we get the chairs outside, move the cupboard, shoo the first mouse outside. Cat's lying on the sofa, eyeing us suspiciously.
I get the vaccum cleaner, we move the cupboard a bit further, and suddenly mum shouts and jumps onto the sofa. She was more surprised than frightened (imagine Pippin's squeak when the fireworks goes off in the first LOTR movie), and we then start giggling like mad. There was a second mouse, and after the not-really-hungry and not-really-into-exercise-right-now cat played with it a bit, I decided to override my mum's instructions, opened the door into the garden and let the mouse run out, followed by cat.
I'm surprised that mum has no problems touching spiders, while she won't touch a mouse. I'm quite the opposite.

In other news, the weather is crap, and I have a small pink colisseum standing on my desk.

A bit of Stephen

"All the religious wars are people arguing over who's got the biggest invisible friend."

And once again, I find that I adore and admire Stephen Fry.