For many years Raffles had an intense relationship with an eerily realistic mouse toy. The relationship consisted of carrying it around in his mouth yelling at it at the top of his lungs for several minutes and then delivering it to us with great pride, often at 4am. Having a mouthful of mouse lent his cries a muffled quality, like: MROOOOF MROOOOF. Inscruatble though this behavior was it was clearly a source of joy for him, so it was sad when we accidentally left the old mouse at Keith’s dad’s house where we all spent Xmas. I bought a replacement mouse but it wasn’t quite the same make and model, and Raffles ignored it …
until today!
