I had never had, or even known, a cat in my long life. The day she arrived, in the hot summer of 2018, I was about to turn 65. That day would change my life. That day, my partner said,
“There’s a cat watching us by the shed!”
There she was, a brown creature with black stripes. I didn’t know the word ‘tabby’ back then. I opened the back door and off she scurried, over the fence and away. The next day, she was back, this time fast asleep, on the shed roof, under the blazing sun. As I watched her, she began to slide down, slowly, to the roof’s edge. As she neared her fall, I cried out, “Hey!”
In mid-air, she twisted and landed, as soft as a snowfall, on all four feet. She stared at me for a moment and then casually padded to the fence and leapt over. The next day found her sitting on the patio, looking into the kitchen. She moved her head, this way and that, as if checking for danger. It was such a charming movement that it touched my heart. I slowly opened the door, and she walked, cautiously, in. I gave her a saucer of water and a tinned sardine, after which she sauntered into the hallway and galloped upstairs. She came down, leapt on the sofa, and fell asleep. Toward evening, she left, returning after dark.
This happened every day. She would appear at the back door. I would feed her, and she would gallop upstairs and sleep, on a canvas shoe-box, under the bed, leaving after breakfast. Sometimes, when it grew dark, she wouldn’t return, and I would wait up until very late—and suddenly, she would appear. I couldn’t understand what was happening to me, why I was so worried that she wouldn’t return.
Sometimes, I would watch her and marvel at her silent elegance and grace. Everything about her started to delight me; the way she walked, the way her ears stuck up, and how she would lick her paw and wash her face – and watch me with her beautiful, green eyes. One afternoon, I watched, in amazement, as she climbed a ladder, onto the shed-roof and came down again, headfirst, without missing a step.
I found myself buying her toys, most of which she ignored completely. She loved the feather and bow, and she would chase it up and down the stairs and leap over garden chairs to catch it. As that summer wore on, I found myself beginning to love her, completely.
Then came that week’s holiday in Prague. I was worried sick about leaving her. What would she do when I wasn’t there? I took a large, cardboard box, waterproofed it with black bin liners. I cut a door in it, put a blanket inside, and left it on the patio. I returned home late and rushed to the box, just as she slipped out and leapt up at me.
As the summer wore on, toward autumn, we grew closer. She would lie on my lap until my legs went numb, and I didn’t mind.
I began to panic at the prospect of a week’s work in the Falkland Islands. I decided to put her in a ‘cat-hotel.’ I took her to the vet to get her chipped. To my horror, she already was! The owner contacted me, demanding her return. I offered him £1,000 for her. He refused, and I understood why. She left me that day, and I admit I cried.
A month later, my partner brought Mia, another beautiful tabby, into my life. I love her just as much, but will never forget Darling, the cat who changed my life. Thanks to her, I don’t love cats…I adore them all!
