As promised, here lies the first of many instalments updating the world of the adventures and exploits of our dearest pet old lady, Miss Molly.
For those of you not in the know (or those who’d enjoy a refresher course), Molly is a superb old lady who lives in the next village along from us. Born and bred in Keele, she has lived there (and in houses each within a 3 mile radius of each other) for all of her 92 years. Thanks to a chance set of circumstances including but not limited to; a pair of starving students, a regular pub goer and the promise of ready money, we were introduced to her as potential dog walkers. Just to set the scene for you – this was four years ago and we’ve seen her pretty much every day since.
Living alone as she does (Molly has had the greatest misfortune of being able to find a husband but not keep him. Such are the issues of not marrying until you’re 60 and then trying to cram 3 little old men into the marital home in quick succession) Molly’s only companion is Benji; a ginger collie dog with the physical capabilities of a leper but the mental personality of a hyperactive child. As deaf as Molly herself and on a diet that consists mostly of stupidly expensive dog pouches mixed in with leftovers and whiskey, he is a ridiculous specimen of canine-hood. With no record of how old he was or where he came from, Molly picked him up from a local kennels and named him in honour of her previous doggie companion – a chocolate lab called Benji who’s cremated ashes reside in a box somewhere in the spare room.
Please enjoy this incredibly rare picture of the lesser spotted Benji not losing his sh*t because there’s someone looking at him.
To sum him up succinctly though – he is complete mental, mucky to a fault and horribly aggressive when the mood takes him and as such his personality matches Molly to a tee; he is her soul mate in every way. As old as she is though (and as ageless as he is) she cannot walk him, much to her chagrin, and this means that Benji requires a chaperone to take him on a daily jaunt down the lane, come rain, shine or torrential hailstorm. This role includes such highlights as making sure to NEVER take him off his lead (being deaf and mental, he is prone to run off in any direction and not be seen for days at a time), stopping him from savaging any furry passers by (many a time we have received bemused looks as we’ve hoisted him into our arms and carried him resolutely like a growling yelping carpet down the road) and trying to scoop up distressingly liquid poops (that’s the whiskey diet for you – shout out to Ross for never backing down when faced with the truly noxious creations that come from that dog’s butt). We are the latest in a long line of locals/students to take up the mantle and we have done so with much aplomb.
However, as much we mutter under our breathes about the pair of them or share sidelong glances with each other before getting out of the car in a manner similar to a condemned man walking to the gallows, it can’t be denied they’ve provided plenty of fuel for the literary fire. As trying as they can sometimes be, they’ve both got hearts of gold hidden beneath their wrinkly, pickled exteriors.
I’ll shall leave you now with that pleasant introduction (and somewhat terrifying mental image), but worry not! This disastrous duo will play recurring roles throughout the blog – a Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead for the modern ages if you will. Expect more news around early December time…the Christmas Fair approaches.