I get up early and gaze out of the front window to see what's going on in the world. I'd usually expect to see our local fox doing its rounds, but I've not seen it for a week or so now. Perhaps the mange has got it. Or any of the other unpleasant things that can happen to foxes, thus ensuring that their lives are possibly nasty and brutish, but almost always short.
Yuki and Pookie were peering intently at me, so I took a picture of them. Note: A canary in a cage puts all heaven in a rage. But rats are OK.
There's been lots of moths flitting around the flat lately. Small dusty grey looking things, I captured one in a jam jar last night and had as good a look as possible, and concluded that my fears had been realised and it is a clothes moth. So I squirted fly spray into the jar and quickly put the lid on. A nasty way to murder a moth; it is somehow better to splat them with a rolled-up newspaper. I'd been hoping to pin it out after it had died, to get a good picture of it with my camera. But it got mired in a little puddle of fly spray and by the time I'd got it onto a piece of paper it was in a sorry old state.
Katie's first thought was for her stuffed toys, particularly Llygoden, whose (possibly organic Welsh) woollen complexion would be a tasty treat for any passing moth. So she put them in a bag with a gallon of lavender oil, to keep them safe. "A few drops would do", I said, but it was too late by then.
The stuffed toys at least will sleep soundly.
I must find a friendly garden where I can pick some herbs for strewing.