Give a warm welcome to Boo, a black and white cat who loves to groom herself and is not ashamed to show it, as you can see in the photo. Boo is here today to spill the beans on Angel Leigh McCoy, a horror writer and game designer (how cool is that!). Angel can also be found at Wily Writers, so be sure to check her work. Boo also talks about PAWS, the government's super secret cat agency. I, of course, knew about this agency, being with the CIA and all...
Bobbi Boo was born in the summer of 2007. The truth of what she did and where she went during those first few months is a matter of national security and need-to-know only. In January 2008, she took a new assignment as bodyguard to Angel Leigh McCoy, speculative fiction writer and Wily Writers head editor. At that point, her life became a matter of public record—one of the drawbacks of cohabitating with a writer.
Boo lives in Seattle, WA, USA, where she has distinguished herself with unprecedented acts of bravery and tenderness. She is currently working on becoming a world-renowned yoga master and extra-dimensional cabinet explorer.
What’s with your name? Did Angel choose it? What has that done to your self esteem and what does that say about her?
First, Amigo, let me say what a delight it is to be here. I read your blog every day. Now, to answer your question, the people at PAWS (the government’s super secret cat agency) named me Bobbi because I have no tail. Is that tragic, or what? They thought they were being clever. Then, when Angel came along, she expanded my name to Bobbi Boo, and she calls me her Boo. I like that better. It fits me because I’m spooky.
Angel and I play Peek-a-Boo, and she sings me the Scooby-Boo song. When she comes home, she shouts, “Hey, Boo-Boo!” And I reply, “Hey, Yogi.”
Sorry to hear about your tail. One of my guests this September is a blind cat. So, tell me the truth, is Angel as disciplined as she said she was in her last interview?
We have two types of day here in the Boo-Angel household. On the first type of day, it’s like this: sleep, computer, bacon factory, computer, sleep. Basically, between the time she spends sitting in my chair at the computer, Angel leaves and goes to work. I never actually see any bacon, but she goes so she can bring some home—or so she says. She writes for them, and they give her bacon. It’s pretty cool, when you think about it. I bet you like bacon, don’t you, Amigo? Heck. Who doesn’t like bacon?!
During the second type of day, she doesn’t leave my chair except to visit either her litter box or her food box.
What are you talking about? I LOVE bacon, the greasier the better. But to go back to Angel, what do you do to annoy her? Give my readers some tricks.
I have a plethora of strategies for breaking her train of thought and ultimately annoying her. I’m just that good. Take notes.
Sometimes, I sit on the back of her chair so she has to be very careful not to knock me off. (That one may be a little tough for you, since you’re not a cat, but give it a try anyway.) Other times, I walk on her keyboard. She hates that, but it gets her attention.
Stretching up her leg or arm makes her stop what she’s doing and look at me, every time. The claws don’t have to come out for it to work, but it’s fun to snag her clothes and pull on her. She never ignores that.
When all else fails—and this is the best—I take a single claw, and I stick it into her big toe. She’s all mine then. All mine.
Ha, ha. Very evil. Good work, Boo. Does Angel ask your advice when she’s stuck? Does she even listen?
To be honest, I don’t know. She talks all the time. I tune her out. On and on, blah blah blah. She’s worse than the squirrels, always chittering. Frankly, it’s a good thing she has me, or people would think she was crazy.
I know what you mean. My mom is a chatterbox... What advice would you give to those pets that have to live with irrational, insufferable, egotistical authors?
Get a hobby or five. Squirrel- and bird-watching are great fun. I also highly recommend meditation (a.k.a. sleeping) and Zen sand gardening. Of course, there’s always yoga. I bet you’ve got downward-facing dog licked, huh. When all else fails, work on your Cuteness Factor™. It’ll get you everywhere. Na-mew-ste!
Woof! Woof! Thanks, Boo.