Jaye Marie and Anita Dawes

No, not a mouse, but the rare and famous bald-tailed squirrel… and thereby hangs another tale…

“What was that?”  My son stuck his head through the kitchen door as I squealed, taking in the scene. The open door of the washing machine… the blue work-out pants dangling from my hand… the dead mouse at my feet… His eyes widened, with a flicker of unease, entirely out of proportion to the presence of the small corpse, and a hint of suspicion, as if he did not want to hear the answer to his question. “Where did that come from?”

“Out of your track-suit bottoms…”

“You’re joking…”

“God’s honest truth…” Our eyes met in mute comprehension as we both replayed the events of the previous morning. I was taking his morning coffee through to the bedroom,  and, seeing his work out-trousers in the hallway, I shouted through to ask…