Cheeky (Mum’s Devon Rex) has been watching TV a lot – she tried to catch Mary Poppin’s singing robin by leaping up on the TV table and grabbing at it. Maybe she didn’t like it warbling “a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down.”
She stared unblinkingly at a nature series Mum had on, continuing to gaze intently when we left the birds, fish, rodents and kangaroos and turned to landscape shots, falling eucalyptus gums and rippling floods. I said to Mum she would love to move to Australia. New Zealand interested her too, but given the choice, she would go to Australia and outstare the crocodiles.
On Sunday we saw the second part of Stephen Fry in America… Cheeky watched it too. She watched the horses. She watched him talking to someone and drinking bourbon. She drank in the details as he drove around in his black taxi.
Mum threw last week’s copy of the Radio Times on the floor, ready to go in the bin. It had a photo of Stephen Fry on the cover. Cheeky went over and scuffed it energetically with her feet, then sat on it. That couldn’t be allowed, so I chased her off, but she came back and did the same thing again.
You can tell how she got her name.