She awoke to someone playing with her toes again.
"Fred!"
She pulled her feet inside the hungry duvet and rolled over. The perky purring feline scampered up her body to bonk heads, intent on getting the first meal of the day on time. She peeled opened her eyes to see a voracious tiger staring at her over its bristling whiskers.
"Go away!" she said, "It's Sunday morning. Can't I get at least one lie-in?"
"Brrraoww!!" answered Fred, bonking heads again. The day's sunlight battered at the curtains.
Coffee and toast beckoned, but on reaching the gaping fridge she remembered her forgetfulness to go shopping the day before, so neither arrived. The cat cupboard was completed denuded. Under her dressing gown Fred wrapped himself around her ankles.
"Nothing for it – have to go to the potraviny."
The nearby little potraviny was new; newly reopened, that is. Only 100 metres or so from her front door, it was always in the wrong direction from work, friends, the tram. Besides, she was a shopping snob and would pay Kč1000 for organic reindeer milk and have it wrapped in gold leaf if she could.
The door was stiff: a little bell rang as it burst. She'd not been in before and approvingly surveyed the well-stocked shelves flexing their metal muscles under the strain. Not bad, she said to herself, but the prices would be twice normal – all potraviny torture the desperate locals. She grabbed three cats and a trendy marge from a fridge.
The door tinkled again and another Sunday shopper stepped across the chequerboard floor – all on black.
"Good day!" shouted the newby, picking up a bag of cheesy pretzels and a massive Kofola. "My breakfast, Ježek." Smiling, he dribbled coins from his hand onto the counter, turned and as his hand grabbed the door handle noticed her, so said the polite, "Good day!" and disappeared.
It occurred to her she hadn't seen the shop assistant he had just bought his salty-sugary fix from. She peered around a big box of Daz and saw something scurry across the counter. "WHAT was THAT?" she said out loud, her voice filling the small store. She stepped forward in time to see a prickly hedgehog wander back across the counter towards the bread section, its little black nose sniffling on the saucer containing the money.
"MY GOD!" she shouted, covering her mouth. The little beast stopped, turning to face the unseemly noise: its beady eyes twinkling black stars. "Hello, you..." she kindly said, astonished, and extended a tentative digit towards the bristly back. The hedgehog made a low squeak, making her withdraw to a fist.
Another customer barged in, picked up a tiny jar of instant coffee and approached the un-busy counter. He appeared to be waiting behind her, so she moved to one side, allowing him to go first. He nodded in thanks. She was just about to mention the astonishing discovery of a shop-bound erinaceous mammal to him when without flinching he calmly said, "Morning, Ježek!", put the required change onto the saucer, said a quick goodbye and left.
The hedgehog squeaked and rumbled again, scattering the apples in the basket beside the till. She watched, unable to close her mouth with astonishment. Several more customers floated in and out, each displaying the same complete lack of surprise about the scurrying creature in the potraviny.
Finally, unable to contain herself any longer, she stopped an old man about to leave with his reduced-price cauliflower. "Excuse me, but didn't you notice – this shop is run by a hedgehog."
"I know – service is dreadful since the badger left."
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