Freddie got off to a bad start in life. He was the only survivor of a litter born outdoors. A kind woman took him in, but her cat and dog wouldn’t accept him, and he ended up at a rescue centre, which is where we found him. Perhaps that is why he is so companionable now that he has settled in with us. He usually spends the day in my study and is very interested in what I am doing.
I’ve been thinking of Beatrix Potter and The Tailor of Gloucester, one of my favourites of her stories, in which the tailor is ill and in despair because he cannot finish an embroidered waistcoat for the mayor’s wedding on Christmas Day. The mice, to whom he has been kind, finish it in the night and he comes down to find it all done except for one buttonhole. There is a tiny note saying ‘No more twist.’
If only Freddie could do something similar and untangle my plot problems while I am asleep or write that tricky and demanding last scene for me. Which leads me to another thought: if a cat could write a crime novel, what kind of crime novel would it be? I know there is a whole sub-genre of mysteries featuring cats (which I haven’t read), but that is not quite the same thing.