For those of you keen on current affairs and politics:
Apparently, a Scottish tortoise-shell tabby cat called Towser holds the world record for killing mice. Somehow, it has been established that she killed an average of four mice a day for 21 years, producing a whopping total of 28,899 dead mice in that time.
How conclusive the evidence to support this number is, I can’t say. Possibly, Towser was very organised and kept meticulous records of her achievements. Possibly she presented every mouse to a manager, who logged them all for her.
The notion still springs to mind, however, that she must have lived in somewhat of a mouse metropolis, to have managed that kind of average for such a lengthy period. And surely, in her dotage, catching four mice a day would have been rather a tall order? AND in all the generations of mice that 21 years would have produced, surely some element of learned behaviour would have been passed down, something profound, along the lines of: Stay away from the cat.
We’ve been in this house more than 10 years, and no mouse has ever been brave enough to cross the threshold. Slugs, yes. Mice, no.
I can just picture a little Scottish mouse, leading his troops of mice towards the warmth of Towser’s fireplace in the winter. I think I’ll call him Brave-hearth.