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Slide
#30: Sometimes there's never a good reason. |
| Banjo's owner provided
the following poem, an ode to the greatest recorded mouser, a 24-year-old (at her death) cat who haunted the corners of the Glenturret distillery. Smokey the Cat by Robin Laing Smokey the cat came from nowhere; Just whisped in under some door; Sniffed quietly around And knew that she'd found The best place to stay in Bowmore. She'd arrived at Bowmore distillery Where the finest malt whisky is made. There was no welcome mat For Smokey the cat But she liked the place - so she stayed. They say cats have more than one life With re-incarnation and that. Whether it's true All that cat déja vu, Smokey's a born again cat. There's something about her that takes you Back to the Lords of the Isles When the cats of Finlaggan Would go scallywaggin' For miles and miles and miles. It's the way she melts into the shadows Or suddenly creeps up on folk She'll always find you Slinking behind you The cat who was named after smoke. She sits on the sill of the maltings On days when the weather is nice And while one eye sleeps The other one keeps A lookout for small birds and mice. Small birds and mice eat the barley So Smokey confronts them foursquare But she pulls in her claws And quietly ignores The Angels who come for their share. Felines don't care for whisky Everyone understands that But that peaty odour Beneath the pagoda Owes something to Smokey the cat. On Islay people made whisky Long before it was chic. The cat from Bowmore Is nothing more Than the ghost of the island's peat-reek. Meaning of unusual words: "The Angels who come for their share" refers to when the whisky is maturing, a small percentage evaporates - that's the "Angel's share" |
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The Infinite Cat Project
Presented by Mike Stanfill, Private Hand
Illustration, Flash Animation, Web Design
www.privatehand.com