My name’s Jimmy and I look a bit fierce. I’m getting on a bit and I actually felt sorry for that rabbit last week, so yes, I may be getting soft. 

I’m told we have another life when we dream; we can do anything we want, not restricted by our bodies. 

JimmySince I jumped ship, I’ve had my daily foray into the wood, and I can’t seem to give it up. My new keepers feed me decent food, but - and I know they can’t get their heads around this - I like a change from Felix and Whiskas.

My feet are permanently orange from the sandy soil in the badger sett, and I can’t run as fast as Max or Poppy.

There are a few poseurs around here, that Harry especially. Max is too cute for his own good. He lives next door but one but comes here for more food. I don’t know how they cope. They acquired Poppy when they moved in, so they’ve got six cats on the ‘payroll.’

But I’m still top cat. Harry won’t back off but he won’t fight me either. Max backs off, but he still gets his cat biscuits. Ch’Bee doesn’t seem bothered, but I wouldn’t claw a female. Milo keeps out of my way, and as for Poppy, well staring doesn’t cut it with her.

I’m feeling very confused.

I got roughed up last week and struggled to hide it. My face was cut and scratched, so Max didn’t seem to take me as seriously. Life’s not such a struggle these days, unless I make it one.

When I realised I had to fend for myself, I got my retaliation in first. I dreamed about missing out on eating, and I suppose that’s how I acted. I’m told we have another life when we dream; we can do anything we want, not restricted by our bodies.

Part of me wants to get on with all the other ‘lads’, despite my last keeper trying to be very macho. When I’m asleep the universe is becoming a friendlier place - when I’m awake it’s claws at dawn! I must say that time between waking up from dreaming and heading for the food dish is a bit weird. 

The more they look after me, the less I feel the urge to boss everyone about.

What’s it all about?

Anyway, Jimmy the philosopher doesn’t suit me, so it’s back to top ‘catting’ tomorrow. Stalking, hissing, staring, gutsing, getting sympathy by letting myself get soaked, a bit of manipulation with the odd bit of purring and leg rubbing is the norm.

I’m going to have to sort out my image problem and these dreams. See you next month.


© Jack Stewart MSc


The Very Best Toy for Cats

"Of all the [cat] toys available, none is better designed than the owner himself. A large multipurpose plaything, its parts can be made to move in almost any direction. It comes completely assembled, and it makes a noise when you jump on it."

Stephen Baker