Just Because it's a Cute Story

When I started my barmaid/bartender journey, I was working at Hawkwood. It was advertised as a medieval fantasy faire. This festival no longer exists.  John was the pub manager, He was also my mentor. One of the aspects of Hawkwood was that they would keep the large pub, called the Greenman, open after dark. They'd have local bands come in and play so it was like an outdoor pub. We made ungodly amounts of money there, but we earned it by working our tail ends off. We would work at our regular pub, The Painted Badger, during the day then we'd shut her down, take a short break to eat dinner then head over to The Greenman. (Obviously this was pre-motherhood) We would be so incredibly busy that I'd end up with wads of money in my pouches that I just had to shove in there because we were so incredibly busy with such a high volume of customers.

I found that the easiest thing for me to do was to go home and just dump the pouches out on the floor. It was easier to separate the money that way. During this time I had a rescue-cat named Dickory (and, yes, he had a brother named Hickory and a brother named Doc) Dickory was this large walking puffball of grey fur with tabby stripes here and there - he was a good looking cat. He was a large cat. Did I mention he was large? OK - get the picture? He was also the sweetest cat you ever met and had the IQ of a door stop (and that might be an insult to the door stop!) One night Dickory walked over to the money pile and just laid across it. Then he took his paws and started pulling the money to him that his rather plump belly and fluffy tail did not cover. He looked like a dragon with his horde of treasure! I reached down to move him off the money pile and this sweet, huge, lap cat looked up and me with narrowed eyes and said "MEH!" I couldn't believe it. I reached down again once again he looked at me with narrowed eyes and said "MEH!" I remember sitting on the couch looking at that cat like I'd seen him for the first time. Dickory was never an alpha - in fact he cowered to the other cats I had at the time. Needless to say, I was surprised by his reaction. I went ahead and changed out of my work clothes into some comfy old sweats and got myself something to drink. By that time Dickory had finally moved off the pile of money. I got to work under the watchful eye of my big, fluffy, sweet, dumb cat. This became a nightly ritual whenever I was working. I'd have to let him sit on the pile of money for a few minutes then I could proceed with the nightly chores of separating and counting.

Dickory disappeared after I relocated to Midlothian. The cat that raised him, Freya, had died. I think he went off looking for her. We never saw him again. I'd like to think that he found a good home with a good family. I miss Dickory - all of us do. But the memory of the "dragon horde cat" will stay with me forever.

I love you, Dickory - where ever you are.