Taking down a cow is hardly the natural behaviour of the domestic cat, although his wild cousins would have no hesitation. A domestic cat spends his days watching small and fragile animals with keen interest while attempting to work out how to catch and eat them.

I am very happy for Toby to keep the mouse population down. But I am not keen on him eating his catch. The idea of diseases being rife in the house mouse population is ever present, and especially reinforced when the specimen he’s fiercely guarding from me is bedraggled and mangled with insides on the wrong side.

Today’s mouse, however – which I just removed from him and placed into the rubbish, much to his disgust – was a fresh kill. Plump and unsullied, it looked quite tasty in a through-the-eyes-of-a-cat sort of way. But I took it away from him anyway, and offered him some dried food. The withering look I received in return said it all.

So why not market mouse in a bag? Tender morsels of mousling in gravy. Suitably presented so that us human’s don’t get grossed out, but appealing by smell and taste to our furry friends.

Further thinking through this idea does throw up some stumbling blocks – as to the source of so much mouse meat. If it’s wild, then it’s still disease ridden, and if it’s bred specifically to eat then it’s far to close to snowflake, my childhood friend. After all, one cow can feed a houseful of cats for a month, and clothe them in DMs and leather jackets. One mouse doesn’t offer multiple uses, other than as an h’ordeuvre…