O homeowner joys!
We've had the blowfly thing, too, back in an apt in NJ - the weird part of it was that we could not find a dead anything! No stink, no corpse, just a zillion flies.
We still call our youngest cats The Kittens as well, even though they will be four years old this August. They will probably be The Kittens until they die, unless we acquire new youngish felines before that day who will then assume the Kittens title, and the current Kittens will finally become Cats.
What brilliant, clever kittens!
To thoughtfully alert you to the problem.
For this one story, I'm glad you didn't post any pictures! 
We always called our cats The Girls, which resulted in some odd looks when people overheard us saying we hadn't gone home to feed them or that they'd been lying to us again - about not being fed, of course.
Thanks for today's post: it is lovely to be reminded of Durrell's books, and to gather a new saying about tea. And I agree with you about the importance of seeing dead squirrels.
Luckily it wasn't a bery big beef. How thoughtful, to arrange that treat for the kittens & the child.
Tay for the love of jaysus? That's a phrase that would come in handy.
thank god for 'tay' I say in those situations. I've been sitting here going eww and uck, so I'm glad there weren't pictures too
I'm drinking coffee right now, but if someone made me "tay for the love of jaysus" I would drink the whole pot. Lovely phrase (especially in a delicious Irish accent).
I don't think I'd eat a decomposing squirrel, though, even if you called it beef.
Ewww!! I believe experiences like this, digging the small beef out from between the chimney and the wall, with a coat hanger, on a Saturday afternoon, is the very reason my ancestors decided that man should rule over nature, as if that will ever happen! Or maybe it's living in harmony with nature to dig ut the decomposing squirrel and close the hotel.
What a story!
We had an exchange student from Japan one summer. Once, while out hiking, she spotted a squirrel, which was apparently something new to her. She didn't know the word, so called our attention to "the, umm, umm, small animal!" That has become a very handy phrase in our family...
When my son was born at 5 1/2 lb. I called him my sma sma ting. Also from Durrell, whose books I loved very much when I read them as a kid.
When said son (now six feet tall) and I were in Ireland, I loved that I could order a "cuppa" and they would whip out a cup of tea with cream and sugar, the way I like it. Must be genetic.
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