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The rat man cometh … a moral dilemma

August 22, 2011

Back from a glorious weekend in Symonds Yat in Herefordshire … wonderful wedding, miles of walking, hours of sleeping and mountains of food consumed … a perfect ‘mini break’ (said in manner of Bridget Jones).

On the way back we stopped off in Tewksbury to see the house The Spaniard’s great-grandmother (Roy’s Granny) used to live in and we went to a wonderful choral evensong in the Abbey. A very special time and good to hear some of Roy’s childhood memories which seem to be fairly few and far between due to him moving around the place constantly due to his father being in the military.

So, all in all a great weekend. The Spaniard loved the walks, didn’t enjoy the drive there, hated the music at the wedding when it got too loud later in the evening (early night for us), and really enjoyed the vast quantity of artichokes I managed to put away.

However, from a weekend of innocence and fun, we came home to a moral dilemma …

 

on Wednesday, Roy came down from the attic (where we had been hearing squeaking and scratching)  and informed me that he’d found a “nest of baby squirrels” and lots of droppings. Later in the day he phoned me and said “well they might have been baby rats”. I called the Council environmental services and the bloke is coming this afternoon.

If it’s squirrels he can’t do anything which will leave me with a problem, Roy being off camping with his sons this week, but if it’s rats he will re-house them. Now I like to think they are taken to a small rat sanctuary where they will be hand reared and loved before being released into the wild to head off into a field and find ratty fame and fortune, BUT, I rather think they will be poisoned or taken off and murdered.

Call me a wuss but I hate the idea of small baby things being killed … I don’t want a house infested with critters, but I don’t want poison in the attic … it might get somehow into the surrounding air and cause damage to The Spaniard … AND I think poisoning is cruel.

So … you see my dilemma. We shall see what he does but I know it will end up with me all hormonal and tearful pleading with him to release them into a rural idyll and him laughing at me as he swoops them off to their death.

Maybe if they’re squirrels I could hand rear them … sigh … ok maybe not.

Difficult afternoon ahead! OHHHHHH but I did forget to mention that Fitzbillies has reopened in Cambridge and I was forced to offset my small furry creature angst by eating two of their amazing Chelsea Buns this morning for breakfast (one for me and one for The Spaniard!!)

 

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4 Comments leave one →
  1. August 22, 2011 2:07 pm

    Chelsea buns for breakfast – sounds great. Do I have to get pregnant before I’m allowed to do this?

    • August 24, 2011 8:15 am

      ha … no just come to Cambridge and I shall take you for breakfast in Fitzbillies … you’ll never be satisfied with other buns again!!

      • August 24, 2011 11:23 am

        That’s very tempting, Ellie – but i suspect you’ll be in London before I’m in Cambridge. Let me know when you want to meet up.

      • August 24, 2011 12:38 pm

        Early Sept then – and I’ll hand deliver some Chelsea Buns to you!

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