Freddie wept. Around him, in that damp, darkness, his terrible sorrow echoed at the loss of his partner, children, grandparents, aunties and many cousins.

Freddie, only days earlier, having left his domain in search of larger, warmer premises for his ever extending family, had returned to find furry bodies twisted in their final hours of agony.

Stunned, he squeaked in disbelief and horror at the sight of those pathetic corpses lying amongst the remains of blue, poisoned pellets.

After Freddie’s tears dried, he spent the rest of his days gnawing at wood; a demented mouse crazed with grief and fury.

Then a week later, Freddie let out a long, anguished screech that reverberated around the cellar’s dank walls, and from above the sound of running footsteps reached him.

Suddenly the cellar door flew open. Feet came pounding down the steps, and as those feet pounded, the staircase collapsed sending splinters of gnawed wood flying like shrapnel in all directions.

Above the noise of destruction, a man’s terrified scream filled the dark space, resounding off crates, two old TV’s and a defunct refrigerator as he lay paralysed, unable to stop Freddie chewing at his fleshy face.