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Thursday, 30 September 2004

Welcome To My Menagerie

I live in a Menagerie, where I am Ringmistress without a whip.

Something in the byre has been going Maaaa Maaaa Maaaa Maaaa Maaaa all night long. A cow-sheep? I didn’t realise we were hosting the Zambian Genetically Modified Animals Programme.

The mice have been strangely quiet recently. Now I know why. They have been usurped. They have been taken over by a bunch of critters what look like mice but have squirrelly tails. (I did try and find a picture on Google, but got distracted by some guy selling monkeys, complete with shopping cart icons, so I had to leave). They don’t squeak like regular mice either, but emit a sound like a laughing cartoon Mickey Mouse on acid and breathing helium. Neither are they shy or frightened, but poke their heads in and out of the rafters laughing at me. It’s a bit like having Alvin and the Chipmunks to stay. I fully expect to wake up to them one day, standing in a row dressed in too-large t-shirts and singing a terrible song.

There is another bat stranded in the sink this morning. Why do the stupid things fly in there if they can’t get out again? Perhaps it was pushed in by the squirrel-tailed mouse things. I can’t face removing it. Neither can The Husband. We are naughty, and leave it for Milly. She will probably wash it and hang it out to dry.