The spirit of Conker lives on

So then, since Conker left us last November, Mojo has evolved into… well, a black & cookies coloured version of her. 

First of all she learned how to miaow – she'd never made more than a pathetic squeak as Conker was 'Queen Cat' and had the loud indignant squalling miaow, mostly in direct reference to her endless desire to be fed. But once Conker was no more – Mojo found her voice. And boy does she now know how to use it, particularly when she's been locked out of the front door and gets scared of the cars… yowly yowly yowl. Weird.

Then Mojo started to play the 'tickle my tummy on the bathroom floor' game: Always a good one, as you're sat on the toilet and Conker used to come in, flip on her back and demand to be stroked. Always juuuuuust that magical bit too far away from you, so you almost fall off the loo in trying to meet her feline demands. Mojo never even came in the bathroom in those days – and now the black shadow has become omnipresent. So much so that I can't even get a minute to play Tetris of a morning without an indignant & impatient furry head knocking it out of my hands before she up-ends on the underfloor heating and demands a morning tummy tickle…Very Conkeresque..

And now to this week – not just once, but twice, we have been treated to the joys of a giant mouse on the kitchen floor. Or an ex-mouse, as it were. Presumably having been delivered by Mojo, whose murdering conquests to date have ben limited to taking my makeup brush (yes, I do have one) from my chest of drawers, dragging it down two flights of stairs and depositing it on the front door mat or in her food bowl (and no, I don't use it any more), as daily evidence of her natural born killer streak. Not exactly Ted Bundy on four paws.

But now, where Conker used to present us with dead and de-feathered pigeons, Mojo has finally, aged 2 years and 6 months, started to bring us defunct love gifts. Both left in exactly the same spot in the kitchen, in a Groundhog Mouse kind of way, leaving me wondering whether H had dug the first gross mouse out of the bin and put it back in the kitchen as surely Mojo couldn't have nailed two of the suckers in 48 hours… but it looks like she has.

The spirit of Conker lives on. Long live Mojo the Murderer x