So you get the general idea that Mollie has a few choices when it comes to places to sleep? Yep. So I think you'll agree that sleeping on top of my Dairy Milk Oreo bar was bang out of order? Yes. I knew you'd agree. M swears cats don't get senile dementia, but I disagree. I may have mentioned ringing her scrawny little neck. A bit of an overreaction said M. Have you seen the state of my Oreo chocolate? This isn't just any old bar of chocolate you know! It was melted into a wafer thin version of its former self. Let's just say the cat had better stay out of my way from now on!
She is probably about 14 or 15 years old. She didn't come with an exact age. The paperwork just said between approx three to four and a half years old. That was about eleven years ago. Roughly. Either way I think she's going senile. We've started on a grand tour of places-to-sleep-that-will-irritate-the-heck-out-of-mum. A few days ago it was on top of a bookcase in the kitchen. This special spot meant she could leap from there to the top of the tall fridge just at the precise moment you entered the kitchen scaring the hell out of you. Next, she decided to sleep in the middle of the kitchen island. This follows years of never, and I mean never, allowing her to jump up on any of our kitchen work surfaces. She just brazenly decided to plonk herself in the middle of one. That night I covered every square inch of that worktop I with obstacles. Ha ha I thought. Sleep on top of my cake stand if you dare. Make yourself comfy on my set of saucepans why not? Never fear though, cats are always one step ahead. Where did she sleep that night? On the blinking oven hob of course!
And so it went on until the night of the Oreo bar. When I mention that I've had enough of scraping up black fur and mud from inappropriate sleeping places everyone says, 'but you'll miss her when she's gone!' Mmmh, debatable.
So what delights have I had today at the charity shop? Oh yes, the pushchair. In wheels a little old lady with a pushchair and I immediately realise it's going to be a donation. How nice I think. She probably has grandchildren that have outgrown it. 'Is this any good to you?' she says. Yes, thank you very much I say, looking it up and down and thinking to myself, this is a good quality pushchair with rain hood and foot muffler. Perfect. Off she trots, off I trot with the booty. 'Oh' she says. 'I used it for my dog. Until he died that is.' On closer nose inspection yep, it smelt like a stinking dog bed. Lovely. It's surprising what a good Hoover and a bottle of Febreze can do!
I love making friends with the decent regulars. By decent I mean the ones that aren't shoplifters. One such regular is in his eighties but as fit as a fiddle. He cycles by most days and if we have any clock radios he always buys them. I've no idea what he does with so many of them. Today he came by and bought a tape deck and whilst he was paying for that he noticed I had unpacked a couple of watches. I said they weren't working but might do with a new battery. He went home with his tape deck and a bit later he came back with a big knife and a handful of tiny little batteries. The knife was to pick the backs off. Anyway, two of the four were working and the other two we had to throw away. We know who to ask if we get any more watches in!