We hadn't long moved to Somerset and didn't know many of our neighbours when the unsettling appearance of a dead Guinea Pig occurred on the drive. It seemed our tomcat had taken advantage of someone's pet. We were mortified - not the way to make an impression on your neighbours! Having no idea who had children who might own said Guinea Pig, we kept quiet.
We might have got away with it if Tigger hadn't turned up with another GP a few days later...then another a few days after that.
The taxi driver was bringing Oliver back from college. He parked over by the gate, and came to the door - most unusual. His expression was tragic as he aplogised to me and explained that he had just run over my Guinea Pig. I answered, 'Not another one!' which confused him somewhat. As I rolled my eyes I saw another by the grass, and another by the car. This situation was out of hand. So we embarked on some discreet enquiries and ascertained that the Pigs belonged to our neighbour across the road, the one with the Ferrari flag at the gate, and that as he was most fond of his animals it might be wise to say nothing.
But the GP body count continued to rise, and when we invited all the neighbours for getting-to-know-you drinks, we were in a dilemma. Was it time to fess up? Cautioned once more about the gentleman's love of his animals we were silent.
Until Oliver came into the room. Now, Oli isn't great at remembering faces - an Asperger's aversion to looking at them doesn't help. So when he meets new people I try to give him a verbal hook. Oli is standing in the middle of the room and I am introducing J 'who owns the garage', and N 'Ferrari flag man'. "Oh, Guinea Pig man?" Oliver announces clearly over the top of my head. N looks up with interest.
Have you ever had one of those moments where you are deluded enough to think you can still rescue a situation? Hmm. I stood in front of my son (to block his view - why?) and said, "No, Ferrari flag man."
Oliver ennunciated loudly, "You mean Guinea Pig man."
"No. Ferrari flag." I was pleading.
He gave me that Aspie look of absolute certainty and said, "Well I think we owe him the truth, don't you?"
Because Aspies can't lie.
So their mothers aren't allowed to either.
And that's our real life...is any wonder I write stories?