Another fine mess

“Wot about it den Maddy?”
“What about what Nonna?”
“Dis ting?”
“Which thing?”
“Dah tiger?”
“What tiger?”
“Dah tiger in dah garden.” I can’t help myself as I dash to the window.
“There’s no tiger in the garden.”
“No.”
“No what?”
“Not our garden.”
“Which garden?”
“Dah one over dere, on dah other side of the fence.” I pull a face, despite myself. If she thinks I’m stupid enough to go and look over the fence she’s got another thing coming.
“Don’t look like dat! It’s dah truth.”
“A tiger…….in the garden over the fence…..”
“No…….not a real tiger.”
“A imaginary tiger?”
“No….a toy tiger. Did you throw it over the fence?”
“I can assure you that I have not thrown a tiger, real or toy over my own fence into my neighbour’s garden.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes! Quite. Quite sure!”
“You don believe me do you?”
“I’ll come and look later, I have to get this pie in the oven or we’ll all starve.”
“Shall I go and get it den?”
“Get what?”
“Dah tiger.”
“Why?”
“Because you said you were going to mend it for her.”
“I know, but I haven’t had time to mend it. It’s still upstairs……waiting.”
“No it’s not. It’s over dah fence in the garden.”
“It can’t be.”
“It must be…….dere can’t be two tigers can dere?” I blink. She has a point. It’s highly unlikely that there would be two four foot plush tigers in a five mile radius of this house. “I wonder who threw it over the fence?”
“Don’t worry. I get it for you…….you cook…..I fetch.” I follow her unsteady steps with my eyes. I almost expect her to climb over the fence, but thankfully she sets off to walk around the block to the other side. I decide to interrogate the boys on their return. The tiger has already been waiting over 18 months in it’s decapitated form, I shall not permit any further indignities upon the poor benighted tiger.

As I mash the potatoes Nonna plants the filthy beast on the counter, just as the owner of the tiger appears, “Mom, why didya buy another broken tiger, can’t ya just fix the old one?”
“What do you mean?” I pary, peeler poised. Nonna beams at her grand-daughter, “I got it back for you,” and noted her puzzled face. She looks at me, at Nonna, at the tiger, “it’s not my tiger. My tiger’s still upstairs, with his head.”
“Wot she say?”
“She says it’s not hers.” We women look at one another dumbfounded.
“Go get it for me,” Nonna demands. She returns in seconds, the tiger under one arm his head under the other, “see!”
“Well dere’s a funny ting. Two tigers……two heads.” She dumps her tiger next to the imposter and leaves with a sigh of someone surrounded by fools. Nonna pats the tigers deep in thought. Her hands run over the matted fur as her finger’s search out the labels on the same side seam, “ah! Not from India, nor Siberia, ……. Dat explains it den.”
“Explains what?”
“Why both their heads came off, in da same way.”
“Why?”
“It used to be Taiwan of course.”
“Are the Taiwanese renowned for tigers?”
“I don’t know.”
“?”
“Same manufacturer Maddy. Probably from the same factory, perhaps by dah same person. Made in China? Get me a needle and thread please.”
“Don’t you think…….we ought to put it back…….you know.....in case someone’s lost it?”
“Finders keepers!”

Another fine mess

http://sandwichedgenes.blogspot.com/2009/02/another-fine-mess.html