Five years ago, something quite extraordinary happened. My neighbor, Old Mrs. Vera, had just buried her husband, a World War II veteran, and was left all alone as they had no children. She often reminisced about her dear Michael.
They married just before the war broke out. Afterward, Michael went off to fight, while faithful Vera, waited patiently for his return. Michael came back alive, but missing his left hand. He adored his wife and held her in high regard, promising to always protect her from harm. Yet, he couldn’t keep this vow, as he soon passed away, leaving her all alone.
On the anniversary of her husband’s death, a large black cat came to her. It appeared at night, seemingly out of nowhere, and started meowing plaintively at her door. A snowstorm was raging, with the wind howling fiercely outside, yet somehow, Mrs. Vera heard the cat’s cries. She stepped outside and saw an unfamiliar cat. Feeling sorry for the poor creature, the elderly woman brought it inside and even set out a saucer of milk.
However, the proud, independent visitor refused the meal, strolling confidently through the rooms. After thoroughly inspecting the house, the cat chose a spot on her pillow, purred contentedly, and fell asleep right away.
For some reason, Mrs. Vera didn’t send the cat away, and instead, she lay down beside it.
The next morning, she took a closer look at the cat. Well-groomed and plump, it didn’t resemble a stray at all! It was as black as coal, with large green eyes and a rather self-assured demeanor. There was another important detail: the cat’s left front paw lacked claws, as if someone had torn them off.
“Just like my Michael’s hand!” the old woman cried.
The cat, meanwhile, softly jumped into her lap and began to purr.
“Kitty, I should give you a name… How about Tommy?” she asked gently, stroking and scratching behind its ear.
The cat shuddered and gave Mrs. Vera such a look that she became confused and even a little frightened.
ITS EYES WERE HUMAN! NOT “LIKE HUMAN EYES,” BUT ACTUALLY “HUMAN”!
“Understood. You don’t like ‘Tommy.’ Maybe ‘Timothy’ will do? It’s a nice name!” she blurted out hastily.
Dissatisfied, the cat meowed, jumped off her lap, hissed, and started clawing at the sofa’s upholstery with great focus.
“Alright, alright. I won’t give you a name for now. You’ll just be Cat. But please leave the sofa alone,” the old woman politely requested.
Mumbling something incoherent in response, the Cat obliged her request and sauntered off into another room.
That’s how they began living together: Mrs. Vera and the Cat.
I visited the old woman quite often, and she would share remarkable tales of her Cat with me!
First off, the Cat would heal her. After her husband’s death, Mrs. Vera had a heart attack, and her heart would often trouble her. But as soon as she lay down, the Cat would jump onto her chest with its warm, soft body, purring itself to sleep. The pain would leave, as if it had never been there!
Once, though, a peculiar incident occurred! Mrs. Vera lay down. The Cat nestled beside her, purring sweetly, and they both dozed off. A knock came at the door. Rising, she went to answer it, with the Cat following her. It was Victor, a local drunkard and troublemaker. He rudely demanded money from Mrs. Vera for alcohol. The old woman tried to refuse, but he grew more insistent and bold by the minute. It got to the point where he insulted her and defiled her late husband’s memory.
Suddenly, the Cat hissed and lunged at the aggressor. Victor shoved it away, but the Cat sprang back with ferocity, nearly sinking its teeth into his throat. Swearing, Victor retreated and left.
The Cat then glanced meaningfully at its owner with its HUMAN eyes, tail raised high, and with a sense of duty fulfilled, withdrew to another room.
One day, Mrs. Vera planned to go to the council about some firewood and asked if I could accompany her. The trip required a bus ride to the town. I agreed and, taking some time off work, came by early to pick her up.
The old lady, looking puzzled and a bit annoyed, was sitting on her bed still in her nightgown.
“Mrs. Vera, why aren’t you ready? Let’s get going, maybe we can catch a ride,” I instructed.
“I’m not going, Irene. Sorry,” she quietly confessed.
“Why not?” I asked.
“I don’t know how to say this… Promise you won’t laugh… The Cat told me not to go.”
“What?! I took time off work, and you’re concerned about the cat? Please, get ready!” I insisted, exasperated.
“Listen, Irene. I prepared everything last night. Went to bed and dreamt that my Cat was talking to me. Just as you do now. He looked at me and said:
‘Stay home, Vera. You mustn’t go tomorrow.’
I was speechless! It wasn’t even that the Cat spoke! He called me Vera! Do you understand? Only my late Michael called me that! AND THE CAT’S VOICE SOUNDED EXACTLY LIKE MICHAEL’S!
As the Cat began to hum a tune—Michael’s favorite:
‘Through the wild English countryside,
Where treasures lie hidden…’
‘Remember, Vera, I sang it when I left for the front?’
Summoning my courage, I asked:
“Michael, is that you?!”
“WHO ELSE?! I SEE HOW HARD IT IS FOR YOU TO BE ALONE, SO I CAME BACK…”
So please, Vera, stay home tomorrow. You’ll gain nothing from that trip. The firewood will arrive in a week regardless. Tell Louise to cancel her operation or she won’t make it through…”
Then I woke up…”
To say I was shocked is an understatement! I sat silently, gasping for air, like a fish too long out of water.
Suddenly, an idea struck me:
“Mrs. Vera, are you feeling well? Should I call for an ambulance? Your blood pressure likely spiked.”
“Never better, Irene! I spoke with my dear Michael!” she replied, smiling through tears.
I still checked her blood pressure. Surprisingly, it was normal!
From that moment, Mrs. Vera started calling her Cat Michael. Oddly enough, the Cat instantly responded to it!
Soon, Mrs. Vera’s predictions (or the Cat’s?) began to materialize. The bus we intended to take almost overturned on that exact day. The roads were icy; the bus skidded, and the driver lost control. Thankfully, there were no fatalities, though many were injured. Coincidence? Maybe. And exactly a week later, Mrs. Vera received her firewood delivery.
She asked me to call Louise, Michael’s niece, and urged her to cancel a scheduled surgery. But Louise didn’t listen and tragically passed away on the operating table…
ANOTHER COINCIDENCE?! I don’t believe so.
So they continued living together: Mrs. Vera and her Cat Michael. He still cared for and protected her until the very end. Mrs. Vera lived to the age of 94. She passed away last year, leaving peacefully in her sleep.
I remember how her cat mourned her. Though aged, and with his once luxurious black coat now graying, Michael wouldn’t leave her side during the three days her casket lay in the house. I SAW WITH MY OWN EYES, TEARS STREAMING FROM HIS EYES!
The Cat was scolded, shooed, even kicked… But somehow, he always found his way back to the casket. Sitting silently, he mourned.
Michael stayed by the graveside until she was finally buried, refusing to leave.
I tried to take him home with me, but he ran away…
The Cat remained at the cemetery, by the grave of Mrs. Vera and her husband. Despite my visits to care for and feed him, he wouldn’t come home with me.
I was deeply concerned about how the Cat would fare through winter, trying to bring him home by force. One day, I succeeded, but he escaped the same day, and I found him back at the cemetery.
The winter was harsh, but somehow, the Cat survived it. He passed away in early spring. Visiting to feed Michael as usual, I found him curled up on Mrs. Vera’s grave, as if watching over her rest…
I don’t know whether Michael was an ordinary cat, or if the soul of Old Michael resided within him…
Nowadays, much is said about reincarnation—that people might return as anything, even a cat, in another life.
I cannot say for certain, but I like to believe that Old Michael’s soul lived on within the Cat’s form. He returned to his beloved Vera to guard and save her…
And he stayed true to his word, staying by her side until the very end.
