You should have had our old black tom, before he died of old age.
He'd catch anything. He used to eat the mice that he caught, but didn't
like the heads. So we'd be forever finding mouse heads around the
house.
We've heard of the Mafia and horse heads, so we reckoned he must of
been a member of some kind of Cat Mafia and was leaving little
warnings of what would happen if we didn't toe the line.
He once, I kid you not, dragged in a huge, live, screaming crow!
It was 3 times the size of him! He just sat there, looking pleased
with himself, as if he was saying, "There we are human slaves, how
do you like my little present to you", whilst SWAMBO ran around covering
her head in case the crow got tangled up in her hair as it squawked and
flapped around the house.
Took us ages to get the bloody thing out again!
Your mice would have packed their suitcases at the first sight of him.