I’m looking after Mr. Boo for a month for some friends.

Mr. Boo is a cat- a cool cat. I have anointed him king of cool. Oh yes, he has a certain savour faire…

Suave and sophisticated he’ll grace you with his presence but Mr. Boo is quite self effacing for a feline, nothing aloof in his supple bones.

Mr Boo naturally lives in a very cool house. His Bohemian ancestry dates back to Charleston & The Bloomsbury Group don’t you know. ‘Come on dahhling, pour me a pink gin’ he slurs with curling tail on the chaise lange.

I’m considering measuring him up for a smoking jacket and giving him some slim panatela’s for Christmas.

Naturally, hanging out with Captain Boo one succumbs to a looser style of living, exemplified by his colourful surroundings.

He’s unsure about my sun salutations in the garden first thing and is far more relaxed with a croissant and coffee. He’s yet to find his eastern promise and appears in no rush.

On sunny days ladybirds pepper my skin in this luscious garden and I watch him hopelessly chasing butterflies without beginning or end. We like to entertain ourselves.

We are both creatures of the night he and I. It is in the moonlight and stars that the garden comes alive. We slap on some Joni Mitchell or Frank Sinatra and cork something decent, a bit of boogie woogie suits Captain moonshine.

As the music fades you can’t hear a whisper, it’s that secret.





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