Boony.. the post which was going to be something else.

This blog started out as one called Nests. The preamble to the blog mentioned Boony. In introducing you, dear reader, to Boony, it became apparent that he deserved his own post. And so, here it is.

[The main thing that prompted this line of thinking was my brother's cat, Boony.] Those of you who have met Boony, I can already see the knowing nods, but no. It's not what you think. For those who don't know Boony, continue reading for a short introduction. Boony is a mammoth beast (who could also be described as an extaordinarily large and heavy cat). He is white and fawn in colour, so slow-moving his gait could be named an amble, and so moody, you would think he had something that is not particularly feminist of you, and you should be ashamed of yourself for thinking it. At least I am ashamed of myself for thinking it. For which I'm sure NitaJane would be proud. However, I digress.

Boony has been known to walk into a room and hiss at the nearest animate object. There is no rhyme nor reason to it. He seems to enjoy hissing at me. He has taught my little ladyboi kittycat, Angus to hiss. He enjoys lying in the sun. He leaves fur on everything. He has been known to growl at passers-by when he is eating. He eats his food. Then he eats Cassie's. Then anything that Angus has left. Then table-scraps. But the funny thing is, he can tell the time. Insomuch as, at approximately 3 pm every day, Boony can be found sitting in the driveway in a sunny patch. Coincidence, you may think. Not so. 

Boony lives down the road from a school. ALL of the school kids who walk home past his house know him. They call him over. They pat him. They talk to him. He is nice to them.   He lays himself at their feet, begging for a tummy rub. He wraps himself around their ankles, leaving a trail of white fur. Then he promptly comes inside and starts yowling for his dinner. On the odd occasion that he forgets, or is running late, you can hear the kids saying to their bewildered parents, "Oh, that's Boony's house." or "Boony lives there, Mummy!"

So remarkable is Boony's neighbourhood notoriety, that Andrew, a nice friendly bloke who lives down the street (not two or three houses down the street, no no, about 4 - 5 BLOCKs down the street) often sees Boony at his place. Or in the street behind his place. (Incidentally, Boony is nice to Andrew as well.)

Boony is known for walking into a room, waiting till his presence has been acknowledged and promptly collapsing onto the floor, remaining in the landing position for hours on end, until someone happens upon a creaky floorboard in kitchen, at which point he leaps up, thuds loudly into the next room and cries until he is given some food.

One last thing that Boony is famous for, is making nests. He will find somewhere to sit, inside or out, and make himself a nest. He will nuzzle into some towels creating and indentation to sit in. He sits on newspapers and somehow manages to nestle into them. And he sits in the garden, regardless of what new planting has occured and creates a nest for himself.

It was here that I found him this afternoon, in a sunny spot under the huge oak tree in the back yard, snuggled in the dirt, using the rough bark as a pillow.. which got me thinking about nests... But that is now a whole nother blog post.

In the meantime, for your viewing pleasure (and so as to form an accurate image in your mind), I present, Boony.