Jaws - part one, two, three and a bit.

...here, we're here...

His cat was called Jaws.

He named it so when he first saw it.

The cat had been abandoned in the Forest and though it had become partly wild it had made it’s way to his house, and hidden until it was used to the man’s presence.

Then he jumped at him each time he passed, grabbing his leg between its tiny teeth.

Hence, Jaws.

By then Jaws was covered in flees, so the man was too.

Jaws was ginger; the fleas were ginger too.

The man took Jaws in, cared for it and cleaned away the fleas.

Those on Jaws.

Those on the man.

Jaws turned out to be female, and she must have been pregnant when she was abandoned.

There was a mini-jaws hiding too.

The man didn’t know this at first.

When he did, he cleaned mini-jaws too.

The man lived in the forest.

A two-kilometre track lead to his door but the woodmen had been clearing and the track was littered with debris – trunks and branches.

It looked like the littering was deliberate.

An attempt to impede or frustrate the man.

The track was deeply scarred by the running of the machines and the man found it difficult to descend the track with his van.

The van was blue.

The man shouldn’t have been driving this van – it had been a long time since any official papers had been assigned.

A long time since the yearly controls had ceased.

But the brakes still worked.

Just.

The man felt guilty driving the van.

He felt righteous caring for Jaws.

Though he didn’t think about it.

He just considered it from a distance, as he lay awake in the pre-dawn dark.

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