Thread: The Jury

The Jury (1000 words)

I went to the feed bin to make up the horse’s meal. I opened the lid and there staring up at me were three pairs of eyes, three pairs of ears, three snouts and three tails No, they were not dinky little gerbils or dormice, they were better known as Rattus Rattus Minimus. They had been caught in ‘flagrante delecto’ stealing the horse’s tea. Undoubtedly they were guilty as charged but what to do? If these three little mice were left together for a week there would be 103 in very short time. But I myself did not fancy giving them a one way ticket to the life hereafter because mice have small but sharp teeth. I gave the matter some thought and came to the idea of a jury made up of one Bull Mastiff, one Rottweiler and a Cairn Terrier. Sentence would be passed by the guardians of the stable in democratic fashion. The three members of the jury were summonsed to sit around the dustbin which by now I had upended onto the concrete.


A Bull Mastiff is a formidable dog, over twice the size of any terrier However Libby was a character, and undoubtedly the supreme matriarch of the family‘s dogs. For such a big animal, she was very agile. Blunderbuss was a typical Rottweiler in build but a bit thick in the head. A superb guard dog, he did not suffer fools gladly but he was no Einstein. Samson was the real predator in the family. A Cairn terrier can be a feisty little Scot, bred for chasing foxes out of their lairs and Sam had already proved his hunting prowess on a number of occasions.

I made the dogs lay down calmly facing the dustbin. Libby already knew something was up and she was sniffing around the bin. Blunderbuss was a bit perplexed and was wondering why he had been asked to sit in a semi-circle. Sam knew something special was going on but he was not fussed. Being the smallest and the deadliest of the trio, he was the favourite to catch more than his fair share of any game.


I called out: “Are we ready?” and then: “one, two, three”. Quickly I lifted the dustbin lid to find the three furry devils sitting in the middle of a mound of horse feed. Libby instantly made a lunge and the first of the snout nosed little critters quickly wound up inside her mouth. The other two devils rushed off towards the garden wall, with Libby, (yes, the Bullie), in hot pursuit. Samson had come alive when he had realized what was going on but he was a bit slow off the mark. Blunderbuss had sat there, looking at the pile of horse nuts, wondering whether to snatch a mouthful of feed whilst the going was good. A bird in the hand and all that.

The second whiskered rodent took the wrong route and the next thing it knew, it was pinned down under the hairy claw of a Bullie. Sam, in the meantime, had raced off after the remaining escapee. Libby now faced a dilemma: she was still holding one furry mini-monster in her mouth and now she had a second under her paw, so she had to guard two doomed creatures. She lay down and once comfortable lifted her paw slightly to allow the crushed rodent to move, if it still could. It did move, so whop - down came the paw again. That poor little chap, the little monster which could spread rabies and all sorts of nasties, really had no chance. At the same time, the other ‘rodey’ was enjoying a warm if gooey bath in Libby‘s mouth. Bull mastiffs salivate profusely in anticipation of anything edible.

Meanwhile Sam had sneaked back. He had lost his quarry in the bushes but he knew not to interfere with Mother Libby. She was the Queen of all she surveyed. One did not get on the wrong side of her, that was for sure. Eventually the little soul under Libby’s paw stopped squirming and finally Libby lifted her paw to take a closer look at what she had caught. The long tailed furry thing lay there peacefully as if asleep. Libby sniffed it, then pushed it about with her nose but it did not move. Libby gave it a quick nudge to make sure. We realized that her quarry had caught the last bus. The crushing power of a Bullie’s paw is sufficient to squeeze any orange dry. It was now time to check her second captive which she gently spat out onto the concrete. The dollop did not move - even when Libby licked it, not that it needed licking for it was already moist. It had probably drowned, for a Bullie can dribble for a part in an Alien film. But to be fair, maybe Libby was thinking that she could lick the creature better, after all, she did have a motherly instinct.

So there lying peacefully at rest on the cold concrete were two little furry devils. Neither of them had gotten very far from the feed bin. However the third little furry devil had done a bunk and was by now making eyes at another of his kind behind some shed. It is said that one is never more than 10 feet from a rat (or a mouse). As for Blunderbuss, well, Rotties are not bred for hunting and he had already wandered off. He had done his jury service for the year. Samson had come back and had sniffed at the horse feed, just in case there was another little furry creature hiding therein, but he was too late. Libby meanwhile had sloped off for a snooze. She had proved the point that she was the queen of the hunt. No blood had been spilt and peace again reigned. Justice had been seen to be done.

Life could return to normal.

Beautifully written, but I would make one small change. Use simple past tense at the top. I went to the feed bin...I opened the lid... See if that dosen't make for a stronger opening.

Interesting. I particularly liked the implied perverse pleasure of witnessing such a trial. Bravo.