the beast of girton

I couldn't get Humbug to come in tonight so I went down the garden to see if he'd got stuck in a tree or been cornered by one of the farm cats. I found him crouched over a freshly killed pheasant.

He let me bring it, and him, in and was apparently happy to trade it for a pouch of Whiskas. Sunday lunch at the monkey house will be pheasant casserole.