"Dear Bobby"

"Dear Bobby,

I love you. I always look forward to when my husband leaves for work, and you sneak into bed with me. Sometimes, you will wake me up, but usually, you just lie there next to me waiting for my eyes to open."

Bobby. You are a cat. But you are the cat of all cats. Unliked some others whose names I will not mention.... you like being a cat. You are my original Obi Kenobi... But you don't like your name and insist I call you "Bobby" or "Bob". You are my predator. You can catch anything- including a rabbit almost twice your size. I remember the time you brought a baby possum into our home. I had just awakened and sleepily headed to use the bathroom when, peering from inside the toilet, was a little possum begging to be released. You cheeky bastard, Bobby. That poor possum. I scolded you and you just turned the other whisker, as if to say "look lady... I am a cat, that's how I do...."

The other cats beg for forgiveness when their transgressions have left me pulling out my hair and scrubbing victims' blood from my carpet. You, Bobby, could care less. As I scrub away you happily jaunt by and might even try to bite my fingers as I wash away the evidence of something you found to be quite an extraordinary feat. You annoy me, Bobby. But I also kinda' love you.

You make us laugh when you taunt the neighbors' dogs. You walk straight up to the fence that divides you, and dig a little, or scratch the fence as if to say "I am here, doggie... come and get me". And they try.... and they bark, and you just sit there gloating in front of that fence... so proud of being a clever cat.

You aren't as sweet as the other 3. When you are ready to be pet, when you are ready for a snack, when you are ready to stop being petted you snap and bite at our fingers or toes as if to say "HEY YOU!!!" But you aren't always a little arsehole. Sometimes, just sometimes, you have sweet moments.

You don't like us to know that you want to be petted so you do "that thing" that you always do. You pretend to just happen to be walking by us. Your tail might hit me in the shin. I will look down and you will stretch. Always the stretch. The stretch that says "I just happen to be near you.... oooopppp.... here I go, stretching into your hand...." That long, beautiful Yoga stretch. If we ignore you, just for laughs, you get a bit mad. That's not good.

Remember when we first stated calling you Bobby? (Bob?) You always sorted hated being called Obi and we were sitting around the t.v. one night watching a movie. I don't remember what movie it was but there was a character named Bobby in the film. You sat on the dry bar staring at the t.v. with us, and someone yelled "BOBBY!" in the film. You stood up, ears pointed back... and looked around? "What? Where? Who?? Me???" Lloyd and I looked at one another with Dr. Evil eyebrows like "What the Hell?" And it carried on in that film, everytime you heard "your" name "Bobby", you perked up. And so... that is how we came to know you as Bobby, Bob, Bobcat, Bobby Boots and... my favorite... "Bob Big Boy"

Bob Big Boy.... You like to creep into bed with me after Lloyd has gone off to work. This is the only time you pretend to be human... maybe because you don't think anyone is watching. You lie your head right on the soft pillow, stretch out, paw over your face, and creep under the covers just a little. For this short while until we wake up together... you are sweet. You are not a murdering little bastard. You don't tease dogs, and you don't bite fingers...... but... I wouldn't have you any other way.