Toothpick, anyone?

I'd forgotten how lively baby rats are..... Not that I should since I appear to be nanny to a new clutch of chicks every three months or so, but each time we get new boys they seem smaller and livelier than the last lot. DaddyRat and myself will marvel at how tiny and how perfect the babies are, and each time we say "these must be the smallest yet!" whilst being aware that this can't realistically be the case because if it were we'd be nurturing baby rats the size of microbes by now.

The new six are EXTREMELY lively - I've just been refereeing a bout of fisticuffs between Splinter and Gibbs II, then between Splinter and Shovel (Spade - poor little boy was destined never to be known by his given name) and then between Splinter and Horatio III. Spot the common denominator? Splinter is a bundle of laughs without a shy bone in his body. We should have realised what he was like when he arrived and unpacked his "Rocky" dressing gown.

Speaking of Not Shy... there was an unsavoury incident two nights ago involving Simon and DaddyRat. DaddyRat had been eating some really potent-smelling Pringles with some disgustingly red dip and had stunk out the living room with it - and remember that the living room plays house to three cages of rats so MummyRat's tolerance of smells in the living room is pretty high - to the extent that the rat population were sending texts and emails asking for goodness' sake PLEASE open a window Before We All Die From the Noxious Odours. Simon started doing his usual trick of running his metal cup along the bars of his cell to alert the warders' attention to the fact that he was Ready To Come Out NOW. DaddyRat rushed to open the door for Sir Simon, allowing him to effect his egress. All fine, one would think. However, when DaddyRat and Sir Simon sat down there was a determined progress on the part of Sir Simon towards DaddyRat's mouth, followed by insistent and exceptionally strong little pink fingers prising open said mouth. Next thing was Sir Simon vanishing up to his shoulders into DaddyRat's mouth, picking out the bits of dead Pringle from between DaddyRat's teeth - as MummyRat said at the time, she didn't know what was the most disgusting - Sir Simon for wanting to actually DO that or for DaddyRat to LET him. Whichever, the net result was one MummyRat lying on the floor in the shape of a disgusted swastika pleading for them to Stop That NOW and Sir Simon having a free second-hand meal. Rat Towers' inhabitants didn't seem to see a problem.... They suggested that the next time DaddyRat feels the need for a scale and polish then he should Let One Of Them Do It because it would be Cheaper. Especially if he'd been eating something particularly savoury, since rats love a savoury snack... they don't seem to mind if it is a pre-chewed snack....