Full Interview with Steve (Boo's owner)

Before I started the process of opening my own cat cafe, I was lucky enough to have been in a job at one since it opened so got to see first-hand the type of journey I would ultimately end up on embarking on, with all the hard work and heart ache it would entail.

 

When asked by customers if you have a favourite cat you reply ‘of course not’. Admittedly I had developed a bond with a three-legged cat there called Tripod and through time and familiarity I eventually encouraged her into becoming a lap cat. She was a three-legged tabby with the tail and managed as well as the others; only difference being when she ran around corners, her back end slid out. We called it ‘tripod drift’. With my developed bond ‘Tripod’ wasn't a sufficiently affectionate moniker, I therefore took to calling her ‘little Roo’.

 

After two years of working at that cat cafe, I began the process of opening my own in Lincoln.  I’d been to the shelter the cat cafe was affiliated with and was on good terms with the people there for them to support my break away venture.

 

Soon after deciding to give Coffee Cats a go I visited the animal sanctuary with my former boss and mentor. The rescue cats there shared a communal space and upon entering the room a couple of the younger cats automatically made their way over for some fuss, as is usual. 

In a small cat bed in the middle of the room I saw a scraggly pair of ears and then face pop up to see what was going on. Almost as soon as eye contact was made, this three-legged little scraggle puss made her way out of the bed and hopped on over to see us. Before I had chance to bend down and fuss her she was already attempting to climb my leg.  I assisted her on her assent and she settled a few inches away from my face and repeatedly went nose to nose (in the cat world this is considered a kiss). She was skinny, with a fair bit of matted fur, without the tail and a strong aroma.

 

This was love at first site as they say, and she then became the first ‘Coffee Cats’ cat. The logistics of forming the cafe continued to develop I agonised at not being with her already. When speaking to the sanctuary owner on the way out, she informed me her name was ‘Little Boo’.  She’d been hit by a car and was close to being euthanised due to the extent of her injuries. With pleading from the person who’d found her they fixed her up but sadly she wasn't chipped and wasn't claimed.

 

The first of the original three ‘Coffee Cats’ Little Boo was quite independent but seemed to have an insatiable appetite for affection. Originally I thought this to be an animal shelter instinct – to attach to the new human ‘to get me out of here!’. Also she had a lot of matted fur, so I initially thought perhaps she is so itchy she needs a good scratch. Three legged cats without the tail aren't as fluid in their movements as their four-legged kind and with only three but without the tail, she could run, climb and jump (well hop), but it was all a bit laboured. Taking care of full body grooming and maintaining nail length were both issues she also needed help with.

 

She seemed to have a genuine desire to be with me and would only accept being on my shoulder (as you may hold a baby for burping).  Pouches on hoodies and slings were tried but she wanted to be against you. A lot for warmth as she was an older cat (the vets appraisal of her age varied from 8-12) and also she was just the right distance to go nose to nose with you, something she wanted to do as much as being up high. Whichever shoulder she’d always have the missing limb side pressed against you preferring to be held with a cupped hand under her hind-quarters.

 

Little Boo was more about cuddles than play, although she couldn't seem to resist a play with a pipe cleaner (but it had to come in quite close for her to bother). She was an insatiable eater and this was sometimes the only way to detach her from my shoulder. Once she was up, she would grip on for dear life if you tried to detach her prematurely (two layers worn was a necessity for holding Boo).

 

Her bond to me was quite strong.  If she heard my voice at all her little head would pop up from whatever cat bed she was curled up in and she’d make her way over to climb up my leg (jeans were also a necessity around Boo). She leapt off the cat walkways a couple of times, aiming for my unsuspecting shoulder, Beyond all that I thought she was capable of one morning she ran (hopped) towards me up onto a chair and dived up onto my shoulder just for fuss.

Cats like to pick on someone their own size, so the elderly and disabled generally are given space. She had familiarity with a couple of cats. I caught Ratatoskr (also one of the original three) grooming her on a cat bed and Matilda who generally grumbles at any cat coming into her domain gave Boo a pass.

 

It’s hard to sum up Little Boo, as the cats personalities appear to be as distinctive as their human servants. She had a lot affection towards me. If I was on site she’d like to be attached or nearby to sleep. This is a profound way in which I miss her physically as well as emotionally. I’ve lost a furry appendage I was accustomed to and a support human of. She could be fierce if she was accosted and she would certainly stand her ground.  If she wasn't ready for me to detach her from my shoulder she may well hiss at me. She did struggle but was determined for what she wanted.

 

Boo’s legacy will remain as a core identity of Coffee Cats. In the cafe her name is historically assigned to Boudicca (little Boudicca).  This seems fitting for her strength and determination,

 

Her illness came on quick, she had problems with her kidneys and wasn't putting on any weight. One morning she couldn't stand, eat or drink and shaked uncontrollably. Being with her, I could tell she took comfort in my presence. With the vet’s appraisal, it seemed the kindest thing to do, having her put to sleep before she deteriorated any more. The vet allowed her to be on my shoulder for the administering of the injection and she drifted away in my arms and even had the strength to give me one nose to nose kiss before the end.

 

Losing her is one of the hardest decisions and events of my adult life. She had a massive impact on me. My feelings even now are still pulled heavily between guilt for my inexperience and any potential negligence that led to her sudden decline and pride for the life I gave her after the shelter. She clearly had better and worse episodes throughout her life and I am happy to have given her a loving home and a comfortable new life.