MOLLS' TALES

 

Molls engaged in Sun Yoga

Some enduring memories of our late friend:

In her last couple of years, one of Molls' personas was that of Madame L'inspectrice. Often, when I was sitting on the pot taking care of business, Madame would politely scratch at the door. Upon opening the sliding door, there, patiently waiting, in my mind's eye dressed in a railway cap and carrying a clipboard was L'inspectrice. She would come in and check out the corners and cheek rub the small wooden shelving unit. She was unfazed by the sound of the exhaust fan or any odor (gee Dad, did you eat a bad mouse for supper last night?) for she was doing her job as it was her duty to ensure that my bathroom met rigorous standards. After a few scritches and chin rubs, Madame would exit leaving her report.

Molls was mischievous. She would lie hidden in the tall lilies that grew at the base of her buddy Mr. Locust. C would be in the area bent over weeding, when a paw would quickly snake out and tap her ankle. This of course, gave C a start which was the whole point. If a cat could chuckle in delight, she would have.

Last Summer when C began doing deck yoga in the early evening, Molls would usually join her. One day, C heard a loud hiss and looked behind herself to see Molls squared off against one of the raccoon Katzenjammer kids who evidently had a crush of C. Not so fast, buddy boy! Why don't you just leave! He reluctantly withdrew.