Speedy came already named from the Isle of Wight RSPCA. She was the runt; she looked like a white-and-brown goose. She tucked her beak into the crook of my arm as we drove home.


The first time she caught a squirrel in the park, decapitated it, swallowed the thick middle, crunched the legs, all that was left was the tail and head, like a key ring.

The hive of baby rabbits she dug up – she consumed the lot, blind squeaking babies, as simply as I ate peanuts.

The worst, her cannibal heart, she killed a fox cub, snapped its neck and ploughed into its belly like watermelon.

Speedy wanted to swallow the world.