Sunday 13 November.

Day breaks bright, the longer shadows of earlier spring receding with the advance of the season.

Out in the garden the guinea pigs are already chewing grass, little crepuscular creatures that they are. They chew mechanically and have something of a distracted look in their eyes. If they were human, they might be wondering what to do with their day. They look very fat, even rabbit-like; but while the caviomorph or lagomorph debate might never end, children have made the distinction for centuries, based on the simple belief that if it walks like a duck and talks like a duck it is a duck, if you'll forgive the cross-species metaphorical allusion.

Later, Violet will be placed back into the triangle cage from the two-storey mansion; Mullet will make advances on her. Blind in one eye and with long unkept black-and-tan fur, he looks like a rough-coated pirate chasing a maiden around the deck of a wooden ship. However, Vegemite steps in and defends her honour, a knight without a horse. 

No wonder guinea pigs are popular pets; they accurately act out traditional roles of medieval honour, courtesy and courtly behaviour. A Shakepeare play in every cage.