Jack Russel

Jack knew his family weren’t the norm, he knew spelt pancakes, hemp soap and recyclable socks weren’t up everyone’s street. He knew when his mum turned up to pick him up from football practice in her paint splattered shoes, yellow coat and hennered hair that some of the other boys laughed but it was only because they didn’t understand, and because their mums all dressed boring. Jack loved coming home to the cosy house he felt most at ease at, even if it didn’t look like any of his friend’s houses, and he chomped through the various veg combos with vigour because he knew it pleased his mum. Sometimes him and his friend Fergus, whose mum was an herbalist, compared notes on the previous night’s tea and ended up in hysterics. I want to send you out into the world with as much information as possible Jack, his mum often said, its character building. His brother tended to keep quiet most of the time, Jack’s mum said he was an absorber, but Jack was inclined to think he wasn’t listening.

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