The dog-owners have reclaimed the Rec after the snow-man builders retreated in the thaw, so we've had a good walk tonight in which we meet old friends Alfie the young Cav, and Patch, the rather portly JR. I also run away screaming from bouncy young new-kid-on-the-block brown-bear of a Newfoundland "Ava". She may not have got within 4 feet of me but I was outta there screaming like a stuck pig.
But the fun started when we got home and I dive straight under the kitchen sink and start squeaking like I'm in prey mode. I never go under there, so Dad suspects we either have a mouse or a rat. He starts removing cleaning materials and searches with a torch but to no avail. Eventually it all goes quiet, we all relax and off he goes to chop wood.
This is my cunning plan! If he'd known there was a squirrel there and what I was about to do to it, he'd have spoiled my fun - all that nonsense about humane traps and re-releasing them.... pah! While he's down the shed chopping the kindling I drag the little varmint out and by the time he gets back I have it despatched and on display on the hall floor.
Our running scores are now
Haggis: 1 slug and half a squirrel (joint kill with Meggie)
Megan: 40-odd rats during the chicken residence plus half a squirrel
Deefer: 2 squirrels
I may not yet be in the premiership, but Meg's hunting days are over and I am still a young dog....... Bring it on