My bloody menagerie

Meg's pretty good on the PC for a five year old. Mind, I sniffed a rat when she woke me up this morning.

"Dad! Dad! You've got to get up! I've got something to show you on the computer!"

"Mmnph, right, mmmn, I'll be right with you."

So I shamble down the stairs, being careful not to trip as my eyes were still gunged with sleep crud.

"Daddy, come on!"

By the time I'd got downstairs, she was sat at the PC in the dining room looking at images of Devon Rex house cats. It appeared she'd fired up the PC, Firefox and Google, and made an image search for this particular breed of cat.

I smelled the rat.

"Can we have one? It won't make you sneeze and be allergic, 'cos they don't have the wrong kind of fur."

"Is that right Meg?" I asked, "How do you know that?"

"Mummy told me."

Ah ha! I'd outed the mole. Rooted out the source of this newest obsession.

And so it was left to me to be the nasty parent. The bad cop.

"Meg, we've got too many animals as it is, we've got Mcleod for a start, wouldn't he chase a cat all day?"

"No Daddy, he loves animals. He kisses Cocoa doesn't he?"


"Yes," I had to admit, "but Caramel tells him off when he gets too close surely?"


"Yes Dad, I know, but he wouldn't frighten a kitten would he?" She asked me with the belligerence only a 5 year old can pull off properly.

"I'm afraid he would Meg, just look at how he frightens Percy."


"And let's not forget how he chases Benny around in his hamster ball eh?"


At this point the tears started. "But mum said that we could get a cat one day. I WANT A KITTEN!" muahhhahaha...

"Meg, it's early in the morning. Tell your mother we can get a wormery. That's my final offer."

Miche, funnily enough, had secreted herself away in the shower.