Poor little Michael is deaded...Millie ate him. He was only the size of a marble with legs and kept me entertained for ages as he ran around in the evenings, dashing under the settee and scuttling across the mats.
He'd have grown up of course and found a wife and they'd have had babies and I'd not have found it so endearing to watch dozens of the little creatures charging about my sitting room floor...
But he was awful sweet.