That girl Britney.

You know how cold it was last night; well Britney was out till 3am! Comes in bright as you like, but Mothermouse couldn’t get to sleep wondering where she was; she’s normally curled up at the bottom of the bed by bedtime. Her sister Betty is the sociable one, happy to chat, lie on your knee and smell bottoms etc but Britney is a girl who believes everything is do-able and she’s the one to do it. A five foot vertical leap up the wall of the shed to surprise a pigeon, ditto from hi-fi speaker to wardrobe top. We’ve found her in the microwave, coalscuttle, even attempting to climb the chimney. I got called. Britney was throwing a mouse about the bedroom; to us that’s attempted genocide. When I arrived Dave, Betty and Britney were triangulated around a little plump mouse slowly swaying. This wasn’t to be his lucky day. Legally it was Britney’s mouse but in its attempt to avoid the devil it did know it ran into the mouth of Dave who was manning the offside trap. Dave, who’s made a virtue out of his disability, is normally Buddhist on account of only having one eye, but when your luck’s in it’s time to make an exception. He had his mouse and growling at all comers. My dilemma: Do I prize open Dave’s mouth to free the mouse and thus reset the situation as before? Do I really stand a chance of getting to it before three very focused cats? I decided to pick Dave up and transport him, closely followed by a feline entourage, to the kitchen, where he might hopefully forget the mouse in mid growl and open up for extra volume. It might then jump free, and find a handy hole between mouse size and cat size. Like Pontius Pilot I closed the door. So anyway what are we to do about Britney clubbing it till 3 in the morning? Mothermouse is considering getting her a mobile.