I groggily flop my right arm out from under my sleeping bag, floundering for something small to throw.
The rats, black and white, sisters, a shared custody between myself and a friend, decide that 4 A.M is the perfect time to try to escape from their cage. Teeth on metal, night after night, you think they would learn by now.
My hand hits the cool cover of a book and I throw, the book banging off the bars, silence from the rats as the cage twangs.
I fall back asleep, resolute that I must find a better means of keeping them quiet in our thin-walled Abbey home.