Sparrow Grass

Captain Midnight here demanding justice.

I confess that since my book was published (*) I’ve been resting on my well-deserved literary laurels. But unfortunate circumstance compels me to resume my chronicle of life (if such it can be called) with Himself. The unfortunate circumstance being that I stand accused of pilfering asparagus, a charge that I vehemently deny.

It is alleged that two days ago I snaffled a whole bunch of the stuff from the kitchen table and scarfed the lot while Himself was distracted, preparing my usual delicious supper of low-fat kibble. Putting aside, for the moment, the question of culpability, it has to be said that Himself only buys the best: plump, seasonal, hand-harvested, green spears from the Wye Valley; none of your feeble, wilting hothouse shoots; none of your airfreighted Peruvian interlopers; none of your albino European monstrosities. Frankly, that bundle of gorgeous, grassy, goodness was asking to be nicked.

But, members of the jury, that doesn’t prove that I nicked it.

The prosecution can offer nothing more than a single piece of unsubstantiated circumstantial evidence, viz, Exhibit A (below) a photograph of a sticky piece of asparagus wrapping recovered from my forepaw, but it proves only that I accidentally wandered through the crime scene.

Himself said that he had me bang to rights, but I put it to you that a squirrel, hedgehog, jackdaw, rat, mouse, or indeed – and more likely – a marauding moggie could well have snuck into the kitchen, committed the larceny, and scattered the remains of the wrapper to entrap me.

It occurs to me, as it has probably already occurred to you, that asparagus has a noticeably noxious effect on one’s pee. Himself said such an effect would be the ‘smoking gun’ that proved his case, but who is to say where in the bushes I have peed, what my pee usually smells like, and whether it has changed?

In the absence of any further evidence, you must surely acquit.

I rest my case.

(*) Ted Talks: How to Keep Your Human Happy