We went to Otley today with bear. There were a few detours to charity shops (open on a Sunday!) and a bookshop (spent a fortune!) but really we wanted to show him the pet shop with the killer cat.
It was years ago when we last called in, but there was a pet shop that had a pet cat. The cat roamed free in the shop and slept on the dried food. There were signs everywhere saying, 'do not touch the cat, we are not joking, we are not going to be liable'. I remember it as a sort of saggy ginger and white monster. DH and I were cat owners. We knew that if a cat didn't want a fuss, they had ways of showing it and we were not going to even try. We picked up some treats for our cats and went to pay.
The cat was lounging disdainfully at the till. The customer before us tried to stroke the cat. The cat drew blood. We didn't even consider it.
Thinking back it may have even been before we moved to here in 1994, so I expect the cat has long since gone to the great hearthrug in the sky where the mice are slow and there is cream in every dish. We picked up some treats for my brother's dogs anyway, and went to pay.
As we were waiting a wild pigeon flew in, had a few pecks in the open sack labelled 'wild bird peanuts' and flew out again. It happened a few times while we were waiting and the staff seemed resigned to the avian shoplifter. It must be that sort of shop.
Bear fell asleep in the car on the way home, and DH is currently trying to coax him to nap - not easy with a lively seven year old but bear is exhausted. He is also desperate for a pet. I am refusing to allow him pet rats. I don't know how much longer I can hold out for.
No comments:
Post a Comment