Feisty and Fon married and bought an inner city cottage. It was warm and humble, with hand-made bricks, a kitchen fireplace and 13 types of vermin. Though these were not evident until some time after the auction, Feisty calmly resolved to combat them by humane, environmentally-responsible means. As it turned out, this was not always possible.

When a plate-sized huntsman spider in the bedroom ignored his well-reasoned arguments, Feisty persuaded Fon to take the only remaining course of action. She smashed it with one of her Doc Marten’s ten-ups, on the understanding that he would handle all similar transgressions by reptiles and tigers. The next day, on their walk, Fon tested Feisty’s resolve by shouting ‘Snake!’ and leaping into his arms. He immediately rushed towards the indicated area.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ shrieked Fon.

‘I’m gonna club it to death.’

‘What with?’

‘Your Reeboks.’

She struggled to her feet in disgust. ‘That’s not what I had in mind.’

Despite her best efforts, Graham the Jack Russell terrier failed to impact the mouse population. She lay snuffling for hours in the pot cupboard (and once accidentally overnight) as a robust clan devoured box after box of poison. Feisty bought a mousetrap and experimented with cheese, salami and corn chips. Only when he tried pre-softened Kit Kat fragments did he meet with success. The victims stared bright-eyed up at him in a highly unsettling manner, strengthening his resolve to encourage Skat the cat to take a more active policing role. Though she toyed mewing for hours with the tiny corpses hurled on the roof, she steadfastly refused to source her own.

To be continued...