SHORT STORY DIG
I had to dig a back garden grave for a pet goldfish, Jaws-Jaws Binks, on account of him being dead.
I had considered flushing Jaws-Jaws down the lavatory in a ceremonial burial at pee, but he was obviously too large for the S-Bend, and I didn’t have the heart to cut him into smaller pieces. I settled on internment.
I wanted the grave to be deep, though not the six foot hole a human might need. I guessed about six or eight inches would suffice. I found a suitable spot between raised bush and hydrangeas, and dug a hole with a simple hand trowel. In shifting the first clump of soil I saw how worm infested the soil was. I wondered if worms liked Sushi.
Two further clumps down, and my trowel gashed open the entrails of another corpse, and assumed it was a dead dog, but the mud encrusted collar round the neck bone bore a name, that of Fluffy, my childhood cat. My Mum had told me that Fluffy had probably run away after he failed to come home after a week. She had even helped post ‘have you seen our cat? Posters round the neighbourhood promising this might encourage the community to find my runaway cat and bring him safely home. I’d wondered for years what adventures he might be having without me.
Now I knew the truth and felt betrayed. My mum had to know Fluffy was buried in the garden. It’s possible she had run him over in her car. His back was clearly broken – the spine crushed. Very little fur or flesh remained on the skeletal carcass. I expect my parents lied to me to protect me from the truth about death a little longer. I wonder of I’ll ever forgive them.
I put Jaws-Jaws on top of Fluffy. They’d never met in life though I know Fluffy would have eaten the fish had he gained half a chance. Now the worms could feast on both, at least if Fluffy retained any nutritional value. I washed my hands and went to get some food – I settled on fish and chips.
Fin.
Arthur Chappell.
Liked it
