Your Paul Anka, who wrote the song ‘My Way’ for Frank Sinatra was never off your TV screens last month. Every time I visited my dish, I saw his mush!


If ever a song captured ‘rugged individualism’, it’s this. And, of course, it could have been my theme tune not so long ago.

However, if you sit down and think about it, feline and human lives aren’t like that at all.

‘My Way’ assumes we are in almost complete control of our lives, and that other beings are mere bit part players. Think about every American film and British clone. ‘One man can make a difference.’

What makes it interesting is that ‘rugged individualism’ has some truth in it. You see, when I think of my old sparring partner, Max, and my siblings here, they will all agree, one cat makes a difference!

Indeed I would go further. One dish makes a difference!

As s/he surveys this piece, and all that goes on, the Great Cat will no doubt be wondering how s/he fits in to all this.

To paraphrase one of your sayings, ‘If you want to make the Great Cat laugh, tell him your plans.’

The trouble is, doing things ‘My Way’ creates seas of plastic bags, mountains of waste, obesity epidemics, hospital bugs, needless poverty, pointless wars and global depression.

Or does doing things ‘Your Way’ only apply if you have fame and fortune?

My world of spiritual [filled] cat dishes, a house with keepers, and [sadly now only two] other cats, the internet, cute Jimmy pictures, and comfortable settees [sofas to those in southern England] depends on hundreds, if not thousands of cats, birds, mice, fish, rabbits and humans past, present and future.

The Great Cat believes we can emerge from this insanity and chaos ourselves. His/her money is on the inhabitants of this planet, guided by a few more enlightened beings.

Doing things ‘My Way’ would mean giving up cat food, and going back to declaring war on the local wildlife. I practice every night trying to persuade the Great Cat for one of you to invent a cat tin we can open. We’re half way there, I can easily claw open a bag of my favourite biscuits, but am not sure how my keepers would react….

Yes, Anka and his three co-writers had something I think. Here’s the last [amended] verse:

For what is a cat, what has he got?
If not himself, then he has naught
To eat the things he truly needs and not the dish of one who kneels
The record shows I ate the crows and did it my way!

Enjoy your next incarnation, my little Poppy. You lit up this house with your presence.

Jimmy, November 2007

© Jack Stewart MSc

A Morning Kiss

A morning kiss, a discreet touch of his nose landing somewhere on the middle of my face.
Because his long white whiskers tickled, I began every day laughing.

Janet F Faure