Hoots mon … the Terminator cometh.

I am sad to have to report that there have been no sightings of little Gwenny for a long time. Frankly I am worried for her safety and hope that she hasn’t had to be admitted into a home for geriatrics or anything like that.

It’s such a pity because Mrs PB isn’t getting as much exercise as she used to – no more running round the house screaming – no more jumping onto chairs & tables bellowing like a wounded Heffalump “Il topo …. Il topo” Both she and daughter can now settle down on the sofa completely undisturbed, and chomp chocolates to their heart’s desire.

Life is certainly less interesting without the presence of Gwenny.

The irony is that, having invested a considerable sum in purchasing a selection of mousetraps, and donating my best Organic Peanut Butter to bait them, I earned loads of Brownie points (AND a mention in dispatches to Italy) from Senior Management.

However, now that Gwenny has disappeared and the mouse traps have not caught her, I am held responsible for what is NOW described as unnecessary expenditure. The money (I am rather forcefully told) could have been better spent on buying more chocolates.

I am seriously thinking of popping down to the local pet shop and buying a rather nice furry little mouse and hiding it in Senior Management’s side of the bed one evening.