Trixie found a baby mouse,
Scared it half to death and watched it quiver,
Hunched over its fear.
Bored, she stretched and let me take it,
Put it on the sill in the quiet sun.
No sport in babies, she said,
Let it grow.
Then we’ll see.
Finbar found a toad,
He’s good at that.
He never sees the pheasants or the hares,
Or any largish prey.
He hunts toads.
At night, they lumber from the ditch
Climb the banks and hunker down
Among the brambles.
Finbar spots them,
Overcomes his fear and pounces,
Perhaps because he is on a lead
And knows we’ll hold him back
So he’ll not take any harm.
Still, he finds toads for us,
Even if we choose to leave them be.
Ninnie hunts cobwebs
And dog biscuit.
She finds lots of both.
Life is good, she says,
When there’s a barn and an attic,
And the dog biscuit tub
doesn’t close properly.
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