|Mabel, the only dog not to be swayed by Albert's rodent obsession|
Of course the terriers have enjoyed these little gifts immensely, mouthing and crunching them like Nigella's Christmas titbits at a cocktail party.......only Mabel, from her position of comfort on the kitchen sofa, has refused to join in any of the fun.
Yesterday I posted the Christmas Cards, and delivered the ones in the village. It was a dry, cold day, which was perfect for walking around with a load of paper and as I ambled from one house to another, I saw an elderly lady, I only know very vaguely, standing in her front garden.
As I stopped to say a brief hello, she came to the gate to make a fuss of William, who I had brought out with me, and although she was pleasant enough, there was something in her affect that pricked my attention.
As I exchanged chit chat, the lady's husband came out of their house and joined her. I know him a little better, and as we made small talk , out of the corner of my eye I noticed that his wife had moved quietly away to the garden hedge where she pottered around the privet.
Only after I had started to walk off, did I realise that she had in fact started to water the hedge with a tiny indoor watering can..and finally the penny dropped.... the lady obviously was suffering from some sort of dementia.
As I looked back, I saw the man gently guiding his wife back to the house. He waved brightly as she took her slightly shaky tiptoe steps...and I couldn't help thinking, that behind every little neat garden, and inside every curtained window in the village, little dramas are being played out every hour of every day.
Only ours have more mice in them than most