Gilroy Mere

In a dark Bay Fronted Victorian Conversion, nestled above a bustling street, there lived a cat named BitMap. She was no ordinary cat—she was perpetually sleepy, no matter the time of day. She’d spend her mornings lounging on the windowsill, afternoons curled up in a ball, and evenings lazily stretching across the couch. Her sleepy nature was legendary.

But Bitmap had a peculiar love: jazz music. The soft hum of a saxophone, the tap of a snare drum, the smooth pluck of a double bass—all of it sent her into a dreamier, even deeper state of bliss.

One autumn evening, as the golden light of the setting sun bathed the room, her humans, were struck by an idea. “We’ve got to do something to wake Bitmap up,” T said with a laugh, watching the cat roll onto her back with a soft purr.

“If jazz makes her sleep, maybe we need to create some jazz with a twist. Let’s make some music just for her.”

They added some distant industrial feel, building layers into a fresh, hunted tune. The room filled with music, bouncing off the walls with fresh energy.