One of our daily chores is to walk to the boulangerie in the village. Only a 5 minute walk. A few weeks ago we decided to walk there together. Instead of it taking 5 minutes we got stuck in traffic, booing cow traffic to be precise. One of the farmers near the village was taking his cattle to a nearby field.  Two dogs accompanied the farmer and made sure that none of the herd stayed behind or got away. It took the cows about 20 minutes to get to the centre of the village before turning left an letting us pass. That was of course not a big issue. In the city where we  live we don't often get in traffic jams with cows. 

No, not the fashion house but our two cats that travel with us to montcavrel a couple of times per month.
They are turning in to great mole catchers, not killers. The procedure is as follows; one of the cats, usually Dolce [the female] will catch a mole and play with it extensively. Her brother Gabana will sit and watch in aw, ready to run. After a while she gets fed up with it and she will then decide that it's a nice present for any human creature around.
It is then up to that individual to decide what to do with the poor and usually exhausted mole. It seems mostly best to put a end to it's missery.

The good