The little drummer girl

I've long been convinced that most of my pets seem to like the same loud rock'n'roll that I do. When I lived in Reading one of my mice used to come out and shake her booty when I played the "Born On The Bayou" off John Fogerty's live album and I swear Zoë the gerbil had a thing for AC/DC, especially the live version of "Back In Black".

Curtis of course, being a shameless showoff, seems to have taken this one step further. She lives in the downstairs room which contain the eight guitars, three amps and drumkit that my housemate and I own between us. She quite happily sits and listens whenever I thrash my way through a bunch of Creedence Clearwater Revival songs or whatever takes my fancy at the time, or when I put something suitably loud and raucous on the stereo. One of her favourite places to sit and relax is under one of the drums, the floor tom-tom. Recently she's developed an amusing habit of playing the floor tom by flicking her ears against the bottom head. So whenever you're downstairs, you know if something's caught her attention because there's a brief drum roll from the back room. Always knew the girl had talent.