The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2765 by Angharad Copyright© 2015 Angharad

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This is a work of fiction any mention of real people, places or institutions is purely coincidental and does not imply that they are as suggested in the story.
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I got the younger lot to bed and tried to stop Danielle boasting to her elder sisters about how she’d zapped the pig who wanted to stamp on the hedgehog. It seemed to me that it was probably the blue energy emanating from me that produced the shock and he fell over.

Trying to caution a teenager is a bit like trying to herd cats and just to prove the point Bramble appeared and determined she would do anything but what I wanted her to. I simply wanted to continue with my correspondence and go to bed, she wanted to sit on my lap with her tail up my nose. Three times I knocked her off my lap and she immediately jumped back up. Finally, I grabbed her opened the study door and threw her out but she was back in before I could close the door again and I agreed she could stay—a sort of unconditional surrender on my part. A word of advice—don’t argue with cats, you can’t possibly win.

After my comprehensive defeat and my acknowledgement by allowing her to sit on my lap again, she curled up, purred for a few minutes and went to sleep. Apparently cats are like teenagers—in more ways than one—and need about thirty six hours sleep a day.

Was this name for real, I had an email from a Nicholas Stoate. He’d listed details of roadkill mammals over a two mile stretch of road in Surrey. Five badgers, two foxes, eight bunnies, one roe deer and a partridge in a pear tree. I wrote and thanked him, he’d included an attachment google map to show me exactly where he meant so I accepted his records. He did offer photographs which I declined—looking at pictures of dead animals doesn’t do anything for me. At least there were no hedgehogs in his list. Still can’t get over his name and hope he didn’t read Wind in the Willows, as the stoats and weasels were the villains it could have given him a complex for life, especially as a child.

Bramble must have been dreaming because she jabbed her claws into my leg and my subsequent squeal—I’d almost forgotten she was there—made us both jump. She came off worse, jumping up and smacking her head on the underside of my desk, whereupon she jumped down to the floor shaking her head. I did hold up some fingers to her and asked her to tell me how many she could see—well they do it for concussion at rugby matches, so if rugby players can do it why not a superior life form? She declined to play along and scratched at the door to leave my study. I rose to let her out and send Danni to bed, it was a school day tomorrow, only to find she’d already gone, sent there by her dad. He was in a foul mood, Scotland he reckoned had been robbed of an historic victory over Australia by some incompetent refereeing. The Aussies scraped in by a single point.

I chose to make us a cup of tea rather than listen to his diatribe about poor refereeing except he followed on behind me and I had to listen to his tirade whether I wanted to or not. It was at this point the police car drew up in the drive. I wondered what was going on; as far as I knew everyone was home and safe.

Simon answered the door and a moment or two later appeared in the kitchen with Andy Bond. We exchanged pleasantries and then sat down with a cuppa. “Sorry, Cathy, but we’ve had a complaint.”

“Oh, about what?”

“Some bloke reckons he was assaulted by a witch on the way home from work.”

“So why are you coming to me?”

“Apparently she was driving a white Jaguar estate...”

“I’m sure there’s more than one of those in Portsmouth.”

“He described a blue flash.”

“Detached retina—apparently you see flashes.”

“It knocked him off his feet.”

“Ah. Is this a formal discussion or an informal one?”

“Why?”

“If I was to say I’d stopped to rescue a young hedgehog from the road and was putting it on the grass verge when he pulled alongside my car and began abusing me, calling me abusive names and telling me I was obstructing the highway.”

“Right, so he was actually abusing you?”

“Verbally, yes. I called him a masturbator using the vernacular term and the next minute he’s pulled up in front of me and jumping out to stamp on the hedgehog. I shouted no, as he raised his foot and the next moment there was a blue flash and he fell over. I didn’t actually do or say anything else. Obviously the blue energy took a protective stance for the hedgehog and me.”

“He was going to stamp on the hedgehog?” asked Andy for clarification.

“That’s what he said he was going to do.”

“Right, I shall tell him he’d be advised to drop his charges or we’ll charge him with abusive behaviour, threatening behaviour and intent to do cruelty to a wild animal. I shall also suggest he be charged with making false accusations against you.”

“What if he goes to the papers—the tabloids would love it?”

“Sorry, can’t do anything about that. Can’t your blue stuff protect itself against him, make him forget or whatever?”

“Pity it can’t make him a human being instead of the cocky ape he appeared to be,” I said, hoping I wasn’t precipitating anything further from my little helper.

Andy finished his tea and biscuit and left. I got a text an hour later to learn the matter had been resolved and charges had been dropped. I just hoped he was too dumb to think about talking to the tabloids. I could just see the headlines, ‘Harriet Potter zaps Portsmouth man. Argument with witch causes man to fly through the air and into bushes.’

I tried to go into myself and asked myself as a young woman if it was okay to continue. It appeared it was. I then asked if I should do anything to retaliate, it appeared the light had done that on my behalf—and caused more trouble. It seemed to suggest it would resolve itself. I decided to wait and see what happened next.