"Missus! Missus! There's a mouse in the kitchen!"
Esma insists on calling me Missus even though I've repeatedly told her to call me by my first name; we don't stand on ceremony here. Maybe she just can't be bothered to learn everybody's names. Anyway, Missus it is.
I walked back to find the offending critter who, having evaded the numerous traps placed and forgotten months ago by the pest control people, was now emboldened to storm the kitchen. I moved a box to see the little rodent perched under the monitor.
We stared at each other for a moment. Critter twitched his whiskers nonchalantly. "Hmmm....Esma, watch him for a minute I'm going to get my phone". It has become the most obvious thing to do in this electronic era. Take a picture.
He posed quite contentedly for several minutes until I got bored and tried to poke him into the trash bucket with the mop handle, all the while Esma laughing and squealing, "Get it! Get it!".
Off it ran into my boss's office on the loose once again. I sent her the above picture with the following text of her adorable little guest.
It is still out there......somewhere.
