‘You’ve gone barking mad. Positively, absolutely, barking mad.’
Morey stood on the small table in my study, glaring at the snail pup on the other side of the glass. This was the first he’d seen of the new addition to the household. After the last of the snail sharks had been rounded up, he’d stayed behind to confer with the other gryphons, and made his own way back to the vicarage. So, I’d been alone when I dropped into a pet shop to buy a terrarium.
‘Oh, really?’ I asked. ‘The pup looks quite happy.’
The snail zoomed across the compost, through the plastic tunnel, and then out again. He returned to look up at Morey, and waved tentacles in my direction. ‘Fy mam.’
‘No, she’s not,’ Morey said crossly. ‘Nid dy fam. Mae dy fam wedi—’
‘He’s staying with us,’ I cut in. I had the feeling that the gryphon was about to remind the pup that his mother was dead, and I was trying to avoid that guilt.
‘And what are you going to feed him?’ Morey flew to the top of the tank to bring our eyes level. ‘They don’t eat carrion. Do you want me to catch blue tits for him?’
‘I bought live crickets from the pet store.’ I pointed at the container resting next to the terrarium. ‘He seems to have liked them so far.’
‘So you’re going to let this cardotyn live with us for how long?’
‘I don’t know. And his name is Clyde.’
I nodded. ‘I wanted to continue the Sherlock Holmes theme. Moriarty, meet Clyde. Clyde, meet Moriarty.’
The gryphon growled. ‘Watson, maybe. Or Hudson. Where does Clyde come from?’
I turned to point at the DVD shelf, which also enabled me to hide my smile. Never mind the reasons I’d brought the snail home, annoying Morey was proving to be an unexpected bonus. ‘Third shelf down. Elementary. It’s a modern take on Sherlock
‘I can see that.’ Morey’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the contents. ‘Clyde is a tortoise.’
‘And this Clyde is a snail. But they both have shells.’
Despite my best efforts, a trickle of laughter had undercut my last sentence. There was a moment of silence. Then Morey asked, ‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’
Priest by day, writer at odd times of the day and night, Chrys Cymri lives with a small green parrot called Tilly because the upkeep for a dragon is beyond her current budget. Plus she's responsible for making good any flame damage to church property. She loves 'Doctor Who', landscape photography, single malt whisky, and her job, in no particular order. When she's not looking after a small parish church in the Midlands (England) she likes to go on far flung adventures to places like Peru, New Zealand, and North Korea. You can read about her travels here. You can find Chrys on Amazon, Facebook, Twitter and Goodreads. Listen to her reading from her books on YouTube and sign up to her newsletter and receive a free eBook on her website.