[Scream]

As we were sitting in the garden finishing dinner, Mrs. Ottawacker decided it would be time to do a little weeding. Nothing wrong with that, I say - more power to her. She made her way to the shed.

Scream.

"Mouse - mouse - mouse. On the bike."

Ottawacker Jr. and I shared knowing glances. Mrs. Ottawacker - as gentle and loving of all nature's creatures as she is - cannot stand the sight of mice. So we went to help. A mouse on a bike, I mean... maybe she banged her head?

Sure enough, there is was. A mouse on the bike. What's more, it had absolutely no desire to get off it either. I moved the bike outside so it could make an escape into the bushes (our fence fell victim to the storm recently, so there is a free run to the gorge) - but it stayed, doing its best to pedal as fast as it could. ***Spoiler: it wasn't very fast.

So I propped the bike up against a tree and left it alone. Mrs. Ottawacker, now camped inside the house looking out of the window, informed me of its presence or departure. It hung around for five minutes or so, checked its Fitbit, and then sauntered off into the undergrowth.