I can hear it, the call of the wild, no mouse. It is over there I can feel it in my whiskers: a sweet high pitched sound. It is that time of the year again when the poor little mice must find a nice warm place to spend the Winter. I even pawed a message on the entrance to the mouse hole: Garden shed available as mouse sleeping quarters, feline care assured. Unfortunately no-one came. I would really have looked after them and made sure that they were fed well. They even love vitamine pellets. Next year they would have grown fat and lazy under my care. What a variety that would have been in my diet.
Only this morning my nemesis, Roschti, the feline next door, discovered a lonely little mouse hiding beneath the big container where Mrs. Human puts all the garden waste. I only wanted to help Roschti find the mouse but he told me, accompanied by paw swipes and strong percussional meows, that it was his mouse. I tried to explain that mice belong to no-one, they are free to go and do what they want. A discussion followed and I decided it was safer to sleep over it. In the meanwhile the mouse escaped whilst we were discussing the problem which solved the argument.
And now I must go, I can again hear the sounds of mouse percussion in the distance. Yes, I am coming, stay where you are.