Tuesday 25 July 2017

Follow That Gull...cont


Molly Doyle curled her black tail and settled for a bumpy ride in the back of Ma’s Toyota Starlet, aka TS: The Skateboard. Everyone told Ma Doyle it was time to change that car. Every bump, ramp, chicane and pothole on the road really did rise to meet them and all the occupants, especially canine ones, were jolted and shook till their molars chattered. But she just replied that the only other model she fancied was a Citroen Diane, Granny- smith- apple -green colour with a sun roof, or a red pick up truck, and since the former were almost an extinct species and the latter beyond her means she’d have to stick with the Toyota.

At least today Ma hadn’t flattened the back seat and availed of the hatchback potential of the TS. For when she did Molly found herself squeezed between the spare wheel and Ma’s emergency kit bag containing:

Emergency triangle
Tyre removal paraphernalia
Flask of tea -cold
Bottle opener
Stale biscuits
Wellies for Sandymount Strand
Knitted Connemara socks to go inside them
Rain jacket and umbrella, neither of which she ever used as Ma always travelled dressed in multi-layers anyway.
Basket of bottles for the bottle bank- reeking of stale Shiraz
Bag of Ma’s undersized clothes for Oxfam
The Forty Foot kit which comprised of:
Beach towel
Flip flops
Swim cap and togs, circa 1950
Plastic bag to place clothes in if it rained
Rock to place on plastic bag if it galed
A net to retrieve expiring crabs/jellyfish or whatever creatures that happened to find themselves beached beneath the James Joyce Tower.

And if there really was an emergency, like a flat tyre or an empty petrol tank, Ma always called the AA and acted stupid.

And besides the issue of all the clutter that lived in the boot of TS, that hatchback floor rose at a 25 degree angle, which meant that Moll had to hang on for dear life with her Newfie claws.

Now Molly was part Newfie, part Bernese and part Red Setter
and was tired of being hailed as a black flat- coated Retriever, even if one of this breed had won the Croft’s show as overall winner in recent times.
Overall winner- what did that mean anyway?

Today, before coaxing her into the back seat of TS, Ma had muttered something about “Chasing birds” and “Poor dears!” and “Time to put a stop to it!” and dragged her Forty Foot kit to the fore. She’d also been chatting on her granny phone with  Sally, which always meant trouble.

 Moll decided to get some shut-eye, since Ma Doyle was clearly off on one of her missions with her darling grand daughter Sally Holmes, and anything might happen!  Moll for sure would be called upon to perform daring feats of bravery and agility and sheer lunacy.

And besides, everyone knew that Gussy was at it again, and there was nothing Moll liked better for dinner than gull; rare or bleu.

Copyright 2017 Cathy Leonard. All rights reserved