A is for Al
That’s Al Stewart, by the way, who recorded The Year Of The Cat in the year of the cat, though it didn’t actually reach the shops until the year of the dragon. If he’d been in China, he’d have called it The Year of the Rabbit, but he was in Vietnam, where rabbits are cats. At least in the zodiac, they are. Much more sensible – who’d want to be a rabbit? Do you know they only spend 10% of their lives asleep? They’re scared if they close their eyes, something will eat them. A cat, for example.
But I ought to introduce myself. Smith, Lord High Clawncellor of Taunton, Cat For All Seasons, voracious reader and blogger (well, actually just a guest blogger for the A-Z blogging challenge – haven’t got my own blog yet). Revered by my owners, Sam & Sam (Samuel and Samantha) Smith. Of course, when I say ‘owners’, that’s inaccurate. I don’t belong to them, I just let them feed me and every so often I lie on the rug when they’re watching television. They like to hear me purr.
So what will I be blogging about? Well, along with Curtis, I was co-editor of Cat Tales, the anthology drawn from last year’s Book a Break short story competition. I say ‘co-editor’, but in fact I did most of the work – he just read the final version, nodded his approval and then took all the credit. And now when it comes to promote it, he’s nowhere to be seen. Too much like hard work, he says, and besides, he’s got his own stuff to do. So it’s all down to me now. ‘Smith, the blog’s yours,’ he said. ‘Feel free.’ Huh! As if I’ve ever been anything else but free.
I must admit, though, I’m beginning to see what he means. I’ll be at the computer all month when I should be roaming the streets. And that has me a little worried, to be honest. You have to make your presence felt if you want to terrorise Taunton, which in these treacherous times is a Lord High Clawncellor’s only chance of remaining in office. One has to stamp one’s authority, otherwise it’s sheer pandemonium. As we all know, when the cat’s away, the mice will play, but it’s not the mice I’m worried about, it’s other cats. My enemies are legion, foremost among them Tiberius and Octavius from Greenbrook Crescent. They fancy themselves, they do. Think they’re the Kray twins of Taunton. What dastardly tricks will they be up to when they see I’m not there any more?
Anyway, too late now. Besides, it’s all in a worthy cause. The proceeds from Cat Tales go to, Cats Protection and the Against Malaria Foundation. The revenue from sales so far stands at $79, which isn’t negligeable because every penny counts. But it could be much more. Over the next month I’ll be highlighting each of the stories in the anthology with the aim of doubling that amount. So don’t hesitate to follow me this month, spread the word and help us reach that target. I wouldn’t presume to ask for a whole year, but what do you say we make this the Month of the Cat? You’re with me? Thank you!