Harry

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Our current suburb is tres posh. Not our end of it obviously but closer to the shops there are some seriously la-dee-dah houses. I even saw a minor celebrity at the grocery store. Posh I tell ya. And as nice as that is for house values it means the shopping centre is boring. No cheap and nasty shops to rummage in. The tiny library is rubbish and the only clothes shop is for ‘older ladies’. But the shopping area does have one redeeming feature – Harry.

I turned around one day in the library and there was a cat licking itself. It strolled down the aisles and nobody, including the librarians, batted an eyelid. I was intrigued, I adore the fact that cats go where cats please. Since then I have encountered Harry hanging around the seats outside the library, walking past the vets, outside the post office, watched hiding behind a lamp post while he stalked a bird with his little bum wriggling with excitement, he often pops up. He lets you give him rubs and is a great way to pass the time when you’re waiting for the post office to open.

When it does open he runs in ahead of anyone, leaps onto the counter and trots out the back for a drink of water. And apparently his friendliness doesn’t end there. One night he followed a couple home from the pub. They must have had a cat door because they woke up later to find him curled on their bed! It worries me that he lives near the busy shopping area but of course my fears are silly because naturally Harry knows to cross the road at the pedestrian crossing. Would you expect anything less from a cat who makes the post office lady give him a drink each morning?

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