Well today has been highly interesting! Today, William took part in a *popstar* photo-shoot.

It started last week.... I had gone to the Croydon CPL cattery to do my weekly micro-chipping of the cats who are going to be adopted and Eleanor, the CPL coordinator asked if any of my cats were laid-back and easy going. Well, William is so laid-back he's horizontal and so of course, the answer was yes. Eleanor then told me that they needed a *photogenic* cat to be photographed with some popstar or other to launch *Cats Protection Week* which starts next Monday.

Fast forward to this morning....... We (as in Sir William and I) arrived at the cattery at about 8:45AM. (bear in mind here that I still have no idea of the name of the alleged *star* who is due to have her photo taken with my cat) and Sir William is let out of his box into the cat proofed garden to get his bearings and just settle. So he does....he walks all over, establishes where everything is, plays with the fish in the pond and then stretches out on the steps leading up into the cattery so he is in everyone's way, and they can't go by without giving him head scritches. After all.....that's what *stars* do.

At 11:45AM, and plenty of light rain & drizzle,14567 scritches and damp smelly cat-fur later, William is still stretched out on *his* step, and (2 hours late) the *TV-popstar* appears, in a limo, wearing some sort of trendy blue expensive bin-bag for a skirt, and a *skimpy* (i.e. if the wind blew, it would come off) top. Emma, the CPL publicist tells *madam star* that she has to wear a bright yellow and blue T-shirt with the CPL logo, and the *star* throws a wobbly and refuses point blank. At which point, enter Sir William, stage left.

He takes one look at said *co-star*, looks at me to ask *what the hell is that he is expected to have his photo taken with*, meows very pointedly, flounces out, and struts up to *his* step where he proceeds to wash his backside. The photographers (2 really nice guys) fall about laughing, and the *TV-Star* gets annoyed, as Emma the publicist, has, by now made the *star* put on said nasty yellow T-shirt on the basis of *we're paying, you do it...*.

By 12:30PM it is still raining, and the *star* wants to leave because she *hates* the rain, *it just ruins your hair dahling...* so the photographers decide *to hell with it* to try and get their photo shots. William's coat by this time is fairly *damp*. And smelly. It is smelly in the way that only cat fur can smell when it has been rained on, and it has just started to dry-out, but not quite, and who cares, wet cat is a nice smell anyway, way. Oh.... and he's shedding. He's shedding in the way that only a ginger and white furry *ac-TOR* can shed when someone who hates cats is trying to keep their clothes clean.

So Sir William, *Miss TV-star*, the photographers and myself walk over to the decking where the photo-shoot is going to take place. Sir William turns on the feline charm.... you know the stuff, *yes, take the left side, it's my best, and you want me to grin at the camera, OK, yes, I will look lost and abandoned, but just for you dahling, oh, and do you want me to look fluffy and cute, sure, no-problemo..* and although asked to hold Sir William up to her face, *Miss TV-star* tries very hard not to actually hold William, because his wet fur STINKS. His fur really, REALLY STINKS. To make matters worse, not only is William 12lb, and heavy, but Sir William is loving EVERY moment of the attention and is rubbing all over *Miss TV Star* for the benefit of his adoring photographers and his soggy, smelly, shedding fur is sticking to her VERY expensive Gucci bin-bag skirt in the way only cat-fur can. The rain is *damaging* her carefully coifed *just got out of bed* hair do, and to add to the indignity, she has to wear a VILE yellow and blue T-shirt with cats all over it.

Now, *Miss TV Star* is obviously not holding Sir William-fatboy-Miles to his exact specification. So after him really moaning hard, he nips her, jumps down off the bench and marches down the garden to the bowl of kibble I had put to one side for him in case he got *peckish*. He had had enough. *Miss TV-Star* was NOT impressed. After-all, she was a *TV-star* and *EVERYbody* likes her..... No so, Sir William. He thought she was a silly bovine, who hated cats and he let her know it.

Cats are good judges of character.

Just to put an end on the story... William and I have also brought home the new foster cat from the cattery... she is a 6-week-old tortie and white feral kitten called Thursday who was found in a drain...

Copyright © Helen Miles
September 9, 2000