The hard lives of four cats (and an interloper) surviving a totalitarian regime.
Monday, 6 September 2010
I often bring Rachel a mouse.
I've seen her run about after them, if they're still lively, that is, but that's usually when she grabs me and throws me out of the room. Sometimes the dog and Scooter get thrown out too, and yesterday she chased Hamish, who got my mouse first and was growling over it on the stairs, and made him drop it.
But I'm not sure what she does with all those mice. I've never seen her eat one.