My liquorice toffee (for when I’m low, gotta love diabetes) so they’d get left as no bugger likes them. Except me.
A plethora of bags for life.
Dog hair.
The dog’s restraining fastening.
More dog hair (doodles don’t shed? HAHAHAHAHA).
The dash cam that’d take lovely photos of the dude nicking the car.
Tiny leaves from the bloody false Acacia at my Mum’s, that seem to multiply like bloody tribbles in autumn. And doing her care twice a day, there’s ample opportunity for them to hitch a ride on our shoes/clothes/paws.
A soupçon of dog hair.
The dog’s car blanket - strangely not too hairy, as he always hoofs it off when he gets in the car.
First aid kit.
My ‘Not all disabilities are visible’ sticker (bought to rub it into oaf & oafwife neighbours who told me I don’t have a disability and that all the parking is theirs, Police soon put them straight & they have a community resolution thing against them lol).
Spare walking stick.
Dog hair.
After having the car broken into in February, we keep all to the bare minimum.
Except the dog hair. There’s loads of that.