Murder in the garden.

I'd never had Chubba down as a killer..he's too soft and floppy for one, but this morning the Finn and Bart came running in from the garden screaming.

"Muummmmm"  Well, that's the usual cry, but this was wasn't the cry of "Mum, I've hurt myself" or "Mum, he's being nasty to me" or "I'm telling Mum" or "Mum, I'm just crying for the sake of it", this was a blood curdling scream of "Mum...I've seen something really bad and I don't want this stuck in my memory forever and tonight I'm going to have nightmares" type of scream.  The one where you know that whilst you want to run away yourself, as you're Mum, you have to deal with it.... head on.

"What?" What?" What?" I shouted - I tend to shout when I'm freaking.

They weren't actually saying anything as the rushed into the kitchen but grabbing at my clothes, and burying their heads in my legs. Miriam was sitting at the kitchen table engrossed in her iPhone (how the feck does she afford it on the wages I pay her..I haven't even got one!) and hadn't even twitched. Peewee was running circles around us all, slipping and sliding as fast as his fat body would carry him.

"Muuuummm...he's killing it, he's killing it!!" the boys wailed.

"Oh shit" I thought as I glanced through the kitchen window. I could see Chubba peering at something under a bush and Mimi  prodding at something under the bush with a stick.

"What are you doing?" I called from the kitchen.  I don't like dead bodies at the best of times and the thought of having to have  funeral for something larger than a fly sends shivers down my spine.  I mean, it's going to be me that has to pick it up, isn't it?

"Chubba killed a mouse" came the reply. "He wasn't trying to eat it...he just wanted it to play...but we can't find it now".

Chubba with a victim

"Leave it alone!" I screamed in the  hope that the mouse would slope away and that they'd forget about it so that I didn't have to make a decision.

I really didn't fancy giving it some mouth to mouth if it was alive, but then again the thought of putting it out of it's misery put me in a bit of a quandary. Could you murder a mouse?  I gag at the thought of stepping on a snail. I capture spiders and put them outside. Even though the slugs eat my cabbages, and make me rage, I can't be the one to do anything about them; and I really didn't fancy scraping up the remains of what ever it was under the bush either...I'm far too squeamish!

The boys were standing in the kitchen doorway.  Too afraid to venture any further than the door jamb.

"It's OK.  I have it!" shouted Mimi.  And holding the stick aloft she carefully walked down to meet us.  Finn ran screaming into the lounge and hid under the cushions; Bart loitered behind me, trying to look uninterested while trying to brush aside his earlier hysteria.

"Is it alive? " I shouted

As she and the stick drew nearer, I could see the body of a mouse resting on the stick. With each step she took, I could see the remains of a very dead mouse...a mouse that had been dead a very long time.

"I think so mummy.  It just winked at me!"

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