Becoming a butler had appealed to me for some time. After all, I had the name, Jeeves, a white bib in the front of my all-in-one black suit, and I lived in a posh English castle. More than anything else the chance to carry a walking cane and wear a bowler hat, when I went to town, convinced me to ask my boss, Lord Melberry, if I could take over from James. His butler of sixty years, James, had just died and Lord Melberry himself was eighty-nine. He needed a much younger cool cat, like me, to take care of him, and it wouldn’t cost him much. Money was important to Lord Melberry, not because he was skint, but because he was a mean old geezer. I was the logical choice, as I already lived in the castle. Maybe I needed a bigger basket, but I could make do for a while. I ate his leftovers, so I was well fed, and my wardrobe was adequate. All I wanted was a walking cane and a bowler hat for my visits to town to shop for his special needs.
I thought it might be a good idea to get a second opinion, so before making a move on his Lordship, I agreed to meet my friend Ginger Tom in the vegetable garden, after breakfast. It took me a while to find him. After breakfast, he slept on the straw in the strawberry patch, but that day he wasn’t there. It was a big garden, so I worked my way up and down the rows, meowing out to Tom as I walked. By the time I found him, fast asleep under a very large rhubarb leaf, I was peeved and tired from walking in the hot morning sun. I gave him a nudge to wake him up, and… phew!! I recoiled. Tom smelt so ripe it made me choke. He’d been eating the stinky fish cook kept giving us. There’s no way any self-respecting butler would dream of eating that smelly stuff. When I’m the Butler I’ll be very careful to keep myself smart and smelling sweet. Tom will never be a butler.
“So what do you think, Tom? Is it a good idea?”
“Yeow, Jeeves. Brilliant. You’re the perfect colour too.”
“So, shall I ask Lord Melberry?”
“Yeow. Don’t be a pussy. Do it today.”
In the evening after dinner he relaxed in his wing-back chair, with a big fat cigar and a glass of brandy, in the corner of the lounge. I knocked on his door and asked the question. I half expected him to dismiss me without discussing it. But to my surprise he asked me to sit in the chair opposite him so we could talk. I knew he was serious because I normally sat on his lap. It was easy, especially when he knew it would only cost him a walking cane and a bowler hat. James’ old hat was much too big for me, and anyway it was a trilby, and I didn’t like trilbies. I wanted a bowler.
The next morning, I took the bus to town and went to the gent’s outfitters where I bought a very smart walking cane with a bone handle. Then I went to the milliners and had a fitting for my new bowler hat. They said it would take a week to make because of the extra small size and invisible hearing pinholes. My ears had to be inside because they were on top of my head, and the standard bowler wasn’t designed for cats. After they kitted me out, I shopped for the old man’s special needs. Shaving cream, after shave lotion, toothpaste, soap, talcum powder, Brylcreem (they still made the disgusting slimy stuff), and other bibs and bobs.
Since that eventful day, I have enjoyed every moment of butlering for Lord Melberry, especially the greetings I receive from everyone when I go to town. I have never looked back, but now his Lordship is ninety-nine, I am thirteen, half blind and need more care than he does. Ginger Tom snuffed it, two years ago, so at least the place smells better.
Well, that’s it. My leg is hurting, and I have to serve dinner now. Where on earth is my bloody cane?