In a masterstroke of feline mischief, Peppa has brought a field vole into the house.
During the day. When I could see her doing it.
I attempted to remove Peppa from the room, knowing at all times where the field vole was. Peppa went out of the room and then, obviously, ran back in before I could close the door. The field vole, meanwhile, scarpered.
Our life, today, has been one of vole watch. We’ve seen it a couple of times. It was living happily behind a small Ikean bookcase – it popped out to say hello on a couple of occasions, but any movement on my part (obviously, as Carole is terrified of rodentia) caused it to retreat back into its hiding place.
I, in hindsight foolishly, decided to move the bookcase – assuming that the vole would remain cowering in a corner while I took the trouble of setting the bookcase down. I observed it as I lifted the bookcase away, and this was what it appeared to be doing.
I put the bookcase down.
Fricking thing has vanished.
It could be anywhere. Definitely downstairs, definitely in the house. No idea. Not a clue. The problem being, the very act of looking for it causes it to run away so it’s actually insanely hard to find.
A neighbour has given us some rabbit food that might entice it out.
But as I don’t know where it is, I don’t know where to put the food. And I’d really like to remove it from the house alive, and humanely, rather than dead at a cat’s paw or from starving to death under a shelf.
So we have a vole now.