Hoots mon … the Terminator cometh.

Unfortunately, little Gwenny (our house mouse for those who wern’t aware) has been getting progressively bolder. At the same time Mrs PB has been getting progressively more hysterical every time Gwenny comes-a-visiting.

It all came to a head last night when we had a neighbour visit us for supper and a chat. Sadly the neighbour was even more hysterical than Mrs PB ……. so when Gwenny popped into the sitting room and sat in the middle of the floor – looking quite sweet actually – and started twiddling her whiskers, pandemonium reigned.

Both Mrs PB AND the neighbour leapt onto chairs screaming the place down …. ably assisted by daughter. OK, I guess my best option wasn’t to fall about laughing – but hey, what’s a chap to do.

So this morning, over a frosty breakfast, senior management issued me with an ultimatum. “Either the mouse goes or I do” she said.

I have to confess to being tempted for a brief and wonderful moment …… but common sense and my inbuilt instinct for self-preservation came into play. “Yes dear” I said and was duly dispatched to the garden centre to purchase an assortment of mouse traps.

So my free entertainment and Gwenny’s days are now numbered. Traps have been baited with my best crunchy organic peanut butter, and laid all around the place. I now await that loud “CLICK” which will signal the demise of Gwenny.