Rocket the Hedgehog

I have just been cleaning out and feeding our rescue hedgehog Rocket, who lives in a big cage in the hall. This is a horrible job as he makes the most awful mess and I find myself scooping up a heady combination of food, water, poo and soggy newspaper. Rocket is definitely a teenage boy. He eats masses, grunts in reply to any attempt at conversation or physical contact and spends many hours in his bedroom making dubious noises and an unspeakable mess. A good friend recently commented that this was all good training for when Bryn reaches adolescence. I pointed out that I very much hoped that Bryn, at least, would not crap on his bedroom floor. Who knows?!
Rocket is a fairly intelligent little man, and I am currently teaching him to do his business either on George Osborne or Michael Gove. All copies of The Telegraph gratefully received; these may be used for training purposes.