Jamil. Our beautiful black cat. A temple cat at heart, he's happiest when stretched out in the sun in deep trance. Because he's somehow been unwittingly delivered to a country life, he catches mice more out of a sense of duty than true passion. But woe to whoever speaks in front of him (or behind his back for that matter) about needing more "mousers" around here. He's offended when he thinks his hunting prowess has been insulted.
The other morning I opened the cold frames only to find that some member of the rodent population had helped themselves to all my seedlings. I went inside, determined to give up gardening forever. Today we tore the garden apart destroying all evidence of mouse condo development. A great fat one was darting around the garden obviously aware the jig was up. We brought Jamil in. But like any cat interrupted from whatever else he was doing that he thought was important, he looked distainful.
Later....after various mutterings about acquiring decent rodent control reinforcements....he came back to the garden attempting to look attentive to the situation. As far as I know he didn't catch a single thing.