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Carrying a tray down the stairs, I’m glad I didn’t spot the feline gift of love, carefully laid out for the approval of the hoomans.

A bodyless mouse head, still fresh with a glinting eye.

I’m lucky I stepped over it, (not squishingly on top of it, squelching underfoot as cups, plates, cutlery et al flew in the air in my despair) and made it to the kitchen before the screaming started.

“MUM! MUM!! THERES A MOUSE HEAD AT THE BOTTOM OF THE STAIRS!!” Because nobody else in the world is able to clean up cat-carnage, only Mum…

And there is a very proud cat, grinning at me from the dining room, licking her chops.

©️ Juliette Turrell