"You must understand, Gordon, it is not you that I am cross with."
I found this slightly, but only marginally, reassuring.
"It is Monica."
Aaah. Yes, Monica is the bane of Mickey's life. She lives in the old Land Rover and waves at Mickey through the windows as he precariously dangles from the roof to watch her antics. She will insist on wiggling her whiskers at him from the safety inside. Monica does not venture out often - and is extremely careful whenever she does - as she has a plentiful supply of yummy food right on her (inside) doorstep. Richard the sheep farmer keeps his barley in there. Mum keeps peanuts and rolls and other delicacies for various creatures in there. And Mickey's food is kept in there.
"My Food Tin was left slightly ajar the other week and she snuck in and left bits of baler twine and chewed up paper in my biscuit!"
Mickey's tail swished fiercely from left to right and right to left. We watched nervously - just in case he forgot we were his friends as he relived the moment.
"But this morning! Well - look at this Gordon! Who does she think she is? And how many more Monicas are there? And I can't get into the Land Rover!"
"We need a plan."
I was rather concerned with the 'we' bit.
"Uhm I shall give it a lot of thought, Mickey," I conceded. "Dad will be cutting logs again soon for the winter and driving the Land Rover around the fields. He could drop Monica off in a field."
"That is one possibility. I was rather thinking of something more - urm - permanent though Gordon."
I nodded in agreement so as to appease Mickey, whilst meantime feeling rather squeamish!