at my Yard Sale: Figaro, the neighbor's white cat.
Poor Figgy has been in one too many dust-ups in the hood. One of his ears now hangs an inch lower than the undamaged one and keeps getting infected. His coat is dirty and he looks skinny and unwell so I didn't have the heart to chase him off the premises Saturday amidst the preparations.
Making himself at home on a pile of linens near the doll furniture, he slept through the first crush of shoppers for a good twenty minutes. Then he awoke and did the cat-weave through the Christmas lamps and glassware and dog-eared paperbacks down the length of three long banquet tables placed end to end, jam-packed with stuff. He made it without touching or rattling a single item, including two large nativity sets and a Christmas village complete with little people.
There he came to rest for awhile for a good paw-cleaning session and another brief snooze. The Christmas ornaments didn't even tempt him, so soon with that aloof cat's grace, he was gone, my Mystery Shopper. He didn't even drop a quarter on a Jamaican straw handbag, green Christmas votive, or doggie Valentine tin. His loss, another bargain shopper's gain.
Next sale I'd better remember to lay in the catnip.