Not a spoilsport at all...

...but a woman standing by her principles. I know I'm biased, and a bit besotted by Rachel, but I feel I should defend her against the slurs and aspersions cast by Millie.

I think Millie was out of order with that last post. Rachel has opposed blood sports all her life, and doesn't wish to host them in our home. Right after the mouse was taken out, Millie rushed off and caught another one! 

But Rachel saw her come in with it this time, and picked it up off the carpet and took it away. Two mice within an hour; it's just plain old defiance on Millie's part, I think, and I might have to clip her round the ear about it. When she gets home, that is: she's out again, and we think we know why.

Rachel said the second mouse was a bit wobbly when she let it out of the box, but it tottered away into the undergrowth. She says she doesn't know how to put an injured mouse out of its misery (I do despair of humans sometimes - they have teeth, don't they?) but that some experienced mouse rescuer out in blogland is bound to tell her.

Meantime, Rachel has locked the cat flap so that Millie will have to bang against it to get in, and Rachel can look through it first to see if she has another mouse with her.

It's a battle of wits and wills; I know whose side I'm on. 

Rachel says I'm her Second-in-Command.