Sun stroke

I had a lovely quiet day yesterday. Until the strange woman appeared.

It was a sunny day. Before grumpy Madame went out she left me by the window. Warm fur and a view of the lettuces. A bit of light thinking. A nap or two.

And then she appeared.

I was expecting Madame and this woman did look like her. Except.

This woman who looked a bit like Madame was smiling. She seemed to be quite happy and cheery. Madame isn't generally happy or cheery. And she doesn't smile much. It took me a while to remember that an upside down frowny face was a smile.

I was frightened. She might look friendly but she could be a Cruella De Vil trawling the city for lonely little bears to turn into her very own Castelbajac coat.

I don't want to be a chair.

Or a rug.

"Bear, darling, there's hardly enough of you for a decent oven glove." She picked me up and examined me carefully. "I suppose I could scoop out your insides and turn you into one of those golf club covers."

She was wearing Madame's new Wondermark elephant t-shirt. She had Madame's cruel laugh. But she had her pockets full of sea shell and sand in her hair.

A sea monster. Yes. A sea monster - maybe one of those selkies had found its way into the city and possessed Madame.

She said she had a present for me. I told her I was ok for sea shells.

She said it was a Biscuit album and was I feeling alright. Maybe she shouldn't have left me lying in the sun. But she had had a brilliant day and the bloke in Avalanche Records in Cockburn Street told her that Biscuit might playing a gig in Edinburgh later in the summer. So. Yay!

Cockburn Street. That's in Edinburgh. Had Madame gone to Edinburgh and got happy without warning me? And where did the sand and the sea shells come from?

Unfortunately she was right. I had been lying in the sun too long.