A feline CATASTROPHE

Having the owner at home is a drag for her Satchmo, Michele observes

- MICHELE A’COURT

On a pretty regular basis I will read about a fancy piece of research reported in what I still call “the newspaper” (by which I mean a reputable source on my phone) and I think, “Yeah, I could have told them that.”

Not in a smug way, more in an affirming way – like, if their scientific deductions tally with my lived experience, then they’re probably onto something. Well done. Recently, for example, The Guardian ran a story about how cats are brainier than we think, and let me tell you, this absolutely resonates with what I’m observing round my house with our cat Satchmo.

First, meet Satchmo, our nine-year-old black-and-white rescue cat, named after legendary jazz musician Louis Armstrong. Our Satchmo (the name is a derivation of “satchel mouth”, a reference to how Mr Armstrong’s cheeks looked when blowing the trumpet) doesn’t play any instruments, but he is a very cool cat with an unmistakeable jazz vibe.