There's a mouse in the house

She doesn't know that I know that there's a mouse that spends its day running back and forth from the house to the fence. He (I think it's a he, I really don't know because I can't see underneath him, but he seems like a he) scurries under the outdoor table, sniffs at my empty food gong, runs round in circles then takes off back to the fence. He twitches his nose which make his whiskers twitch. He is a cute little fellow. I like him because he is inquisitive, like me.

I am sure she is wondering why I don't attack and destroy, as you might also be wondering. No way.

I am a ratter not a mouser. It's in my genes to attack and destroy rats. But not mice.

West Highland Terriers, of which I am one, were specifically bred and trained by the farmers in Scotland to find rats in barns and the undergrowth of the forests around their farms.

It's not a particularly glamorous heritage but it is what it is. We are very good at catching rats because of our compact small size, agility and tenacity. And we are very smart, we learn quickly.

We were bred with a white coat so the farmers could clearly see us and didn't mistake us for rabbits or foxes and didn't shoot us. Clever thinking by whoever thought of that. It might have saved one of my ancestors. I might not be here today if it wasn't for that white coat.

A good ratter not only attacks and destroys but delivers the dead rat at the feet of its owner. We are not stupid. We expect praise and adoration for our efforts.

So they started calling us ratters. Not now so much. Now we are West Highland White Terriers.

I've delivered two dead rats to my owner. One time I left the rat on the floor between the kitchen and her office so she wouldn't miss it. The other time I brought it to her when she was sitting at the outdoor table with the lady with the purple hair and funny accent who grew up on a farm and has seen lots of rats. She picked up the rat by the tip of the tail and took it to the far corner of the garden and buried it.

But she didn't bury it very deep and I knew it was there and brought it back to my owner.

I would never do that with my little mouse friend. He can scurry without a care.