Daily Mirror (Northern Ireland)
Let’s do this together
“Saturday is Caturday,” Siobhan told me before heading off on her well-deserved holibobs.
“Marvellous,” I thought. “My moggies, Eminem, are going to love that.” I’m having to be extra nice to them after revealing their exploits with the snake in this national newspaper. Honestly, it’s been Dreamies on demand ever since! But the story struck a chord with Lynda Mackenzie, from Clackmannan in Scotland, who wrote in with her own tale of catastrophe.
“I was doing the washing up after breakfast one morning when a small shrew ran across the windowsill and hid behind the kitchen roll,” she said. “It had, of course, been brought in overnight by our cat, Midge, who had obviously tired of it as she was now happily napping on the spare bed, blissfully unaware of my panic.
“No husband about so I was going to have to deal with this on my own. It peeked out from its hiding place and snuck onto the draining board. This was way too close! With great presence of mind I grabbed a glass bowl from the sink and plonked it over the problem creature.
“By now my brain was working a bit better and I decided I needed a bit of card to slide beneath the bowl and beast, then I could take it outside and return it to the wild. Unfortunately, the card was too flimsy and when I tried to lift bowl, beast and card, they parted company and the poor little shrew fell into the sink full of hot soapy water.
“There it paddled frantically around while I hoped for inspiration which came in the form of a draining spoon.
“I scooped up the little thing and took it outside where I placed it gently in the bird bath so it could at least get rid of the soap and cool down.
“I left it doing a slow paddle and went to have a well earned cuppa. An hour later I ventured back out to see how it was, but sadly it had expired at the edge of the birdbath. But at least it was clean, as my mother often used to say! Next problem, should it go in the landfill bin, the garden waste bin or the composting bin?”
Ah, Lynda, we cat owners navigate a moral grey area. Part-wildlife lover, part Renfield to their Dracula! You tried. You really tried.
“Midge sadly died last year after 17 years of moggie mayhem,” said Lynda, who is 55, plus postage and packing (Lynda’s words). He’s no doubt chasing angel feathers as I write.
Midge, you’re a ledge!
Got some catastrophes of your own? Email me at siobhan.mcnally@mirror.co.uk or write to Community Corner, PO Box 791, Winchester
SO23 3RP
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