Mollie was a rescue cat. When Mum walked into the shelter she was the only kitten who padded up to her, and immediately began purring when she was picked up. It was the last time she ever did that, demonstrating her lifelong expertise in human psychology that led her to be loved by all while remaining aloof, regal and sphinx-like to the end. She would never drink from her water bowl, only a fine china mug on the kitchen windowsill would do. Occupy the chair she wanted and she would simply sit and stare at you until her sense of entitlement inevitably overcame your resolve, then you would leave and she would hop up into the still-warm spot.
Every morning she'd miaow at Dad (only once, he knew his place) to join her for a walk up the garden. She never lowered herself to catching birds, preferring to growl at them from the warmth of the sitting room, but did once bring in a mouse that ran off. After she'd sat staring at the filing cabinet for a month my parents found that the rodent escapee had taken up residence there and been slowly shredding bank statements into a nest. It was released humanely, much to Mollie's disgust.
So goodbye Mol. No doubt you are sitting on a fluffy cloud blanket somewhere, charming the angels into feeding you treats and entertaining you with your favourite grey shoelace. You'll be missed!
Mollie demonstrates her best sphinx impression.
Thank you for killing this patch of grass specifically that I might stay dry. Now stop taking photos.
I don't think she'd have enjoyed a weekend in Tahoe.
