Meet Mr. Bond

It occurs to me that I posted the picture of Mr. Bond on the left without ever introducing him or the book he's in. The Adventures of Madison Fox is the smaller novel that I wrote last year. To read a synopsis of it and to find out information about the key characters, please visit my website at rebeccachastain.com.

I fell in love with the Mr. Bond character for several reason. The first was that I was already in love with the model from which I took his characteristics: my cat Mack Fu. Mr. Bond (and Mack Fu) is an overweight, food-obsessed, curious, lovable cat. Yes, that describes about half the population of housecats in America. I know. Mr. Bond has what other cats out there don't, though: a bond (no pun intended) with Madison Fox, and she with him.

In the course of the story, Mr. Bond's life is threatened (though I can't say more without giving away spoilers). It was a tough scene for me to write. I got all misty-eyed at the thought of my beloved Mack Fu going through the same experience as Mr. Bond. Even when I was long beyond the scene and was merely rereading the book, I had to pause to bury my face in Mack Fu's furry belly for comfort. He (Mr. Bond) became a much larger character in the book than I ever anticipated, which was a delightful surprise. I hope you all will enjoy him as much as I do when you get to meet him. Until then, here's an excerpt of one of his scenes:

Beyoncé woke me at seven o'clock the next morning. Groggily, I peered at the CD alarm clock. My hand hovered over the snooze button as my sleepy brain tried to remember why I needed to get up. Oh, yeah. Work, I thought. It was Saturday. Saturday was my early day at Sundage Cars. "Another day, another . . . Aww, shit." I flopped onto my back. Beyoncé was way too cheerful about how crazy love had her looking. "You wouldn't be so cheerful if your craziness got you fired," I muttered.

A loud purr announced Mr. Bond a moment before the weight of a small pony compressed my chest and lungs. Mr. Bond settled in, his nose inches from my chin. I swear he smiled.

"Are you taking pleasure in my misery?" I asked the lummox. He purred louder and half-stood on one of my boobs. Wincing in pain, I quickly got an arm on the outside of the covers and moved his foot, then was obligated to pet him. His eyes closed in contentment, his purr grew louder, and his claws began a gentle kneading that made me incredibly thankful for the covers between us. Feeling blindly with my other hand, I managed to turn off the too-cheerful music. After a few minutes, I rested my hand lightly on Mr. Bond's back and started to drift back to sleep.

The beast head-butted my chin. I cracked an eyelid to look at him.

"Is this your way of telling me to get up and find a way to make some money, or are you just hungry?" Mr. Bond's kneading claws inched toward my face. "Okay, okay. I'm up. Move, you big oaf." Mr. Bond launched from my stomach, forcing all the air from my lungs. I laid flat until I could catch my breath.

"You're lucky that wasn't my bladder."

He came with me to the bathroom, twining around my legs while I was on the toilet, then trying to stick his face under the faucet when I washed my hands. I allowed myself to be herded to the food bowl. It wasn't empty, but I could see the bottom of the bowl. Sighing, I filled it, and Mr. Bond happily wagged his tail.

"You should have been a dog," I told him, fondly patting his head.