Before midnight, at twelve, she has an operation. Simple, scheduled. An hour of anaesthetic, uncomplicated steps, and discharge the same day. She doesnt press him to come, knowing hes swamped. After all, the new branch in Manchester is opening.
Everything will be fine, she says, planting a kiss on his cheek, tossing a few packets of cat food for the basement felines into his bag, and slipping out the door.
He straightens his tie, gives himself a meticulous onceover in the mirror, grabs the project folder from the desk, and drives to the office. As chief executive of Whitaker Industries, a company he has steered into market leadership over the past few years, he must give his all. He does, every spare minute, over and over, soothing himself with the thought that its for them, for her, even for the cats living beneath the stairwell.
He doesnt dislike cats; its just her hobby, which to him seems pointless, a frivolous pastime without any real weight. He tolerates it as one does a partners quirks. So when she tries to bring home stray, flearidden toms, he refuses outrightno point, no benefit. Hed rather compromise with a sleek Oriental cat, something with a veneer of status, something that can be shown off. Basement cats? What use are they? He cant see it, and shes grown weary of explaining.
***
Operation simple scheduled nothing special I should have gone with her!!! How many times does he chant that in a week? A thousand? Ten thousand? He races, abandoning everything, to the hospital clutching the white coat, trembling as the surgeons eyes flicker shredding the hateful project that kept him apart from her, kneeling by her bedside, forehead pressed to her hand, begging her not to abandon him. To open her eyes. To say even a single word.
She remains silent. Neither of them knows that a routine operation, an hours anaesthetic, can turn into a coma
Were doing everything we can, the surgeon assures him.
Youre doing nothing! he snaps, helpless, paying for her transfer to a private ward in pounds.
Theres a chance; we must wait, the nurse tries to calm him.
Where is that chance?! he shouts down the corridor when, a week later, she still hasnt awakened.
He tries everything: consultations with top specialists, soothing music, long conversations. He floods her room with flowers. He barely shows up at work, just to be near her in every free moment. He begs, promises, even blackmails, kissing her in moments of frantic hope while recalling the absurd fairy tale of the sleeping beauty, sinking deeper into despair with each passing day. A beastly fury rises, tearing everything in its path.
A tipped chair, a shattered vase. In a fit of rage he hurls his bag, scattering the colourful packets of cat food across the floor. The cats never get fed. The very cats he once dismissed with feigned indifference.
Blasted fool! Heaven knows what a fool he is! he mutters.
If only he could turn back time, erase it all with a wave of his hand. He would crawl on his knees, fetch those cats, bring them home, love themjust to to
The adrenaline that had kept his blood boiling drains away in an instant. Looking at the mess hes created, his shaking hands pick up the scattered food packets, already counting the minutes before he must stand at the door of the cellar again.
***
This is called felinotherapy, though there are no documented cases like ours, the doctor says seriously, watching him lug his patients sixth carrier into the ward.
So well be the first, James whispers, releasing the animals from their cages.
Theyre her cats. Her! Id give the world to tell her that, just to
Ill inform the staff, the doctor replies.
Thank you I should have done this sooner You understand? I
Never lose hope. We all learn from our mistakes, remember that.
I wont forget Ill never forget again.
***
At twelve, she has the operation. Simple. Scheduled. An hour of anaesthetic, uncomplicated steps, discharge the same day. She doesnt insist he be there. Yet she cant stop the bright smile that spreads across her face as he, after loosening his loosened tie, curses and fits the sixth harness onto the resistant, fleeing cats.
Her cats. The very basement, fleacovered felines whose weight had pulled her back a year ago, leaving her gasping, unaware of what was happening.
Seven pairs of eyes drilling into her. Six relieved sighs at the edge of hearing and one triumphant, joyfilled cry she will never forget.
Perhaps thats why, now, as she prepares to relive the ordeal, she feels no fear. Seeing her exhausted husband, his shirt tangled with stray tufts of fur, looking at her with a reproachful gaze, she smiles even wider.
Then she laughs outright at the onlookers turning their heads. A man in an expensive suit, surrounded by six mixedbreed yet impeccably groomed cats, each tugging a thin leash in a different direction, echoing Meow?! down the streeta sight not for the fainthearted.
The operation. Simple. Scheduled. An hour of anaesthetic, uncomplicated steps, discharge the same day. And if you dont stop gnawing everything in sight, next time youll stay home! a solemn gentleman declares from the hospital courtyard, cradling a slightly gnawed yet still beautiful bouquet of roses on his lap, cats prowling around him.
He glances at his watch, smooths the six colourful leads, checks that the harnesses are still snug, then looks toward the window of the ward where his wife is waking from surgery. Soon theyll be allowed to see her. Hell finally be able to complain about the six tailwhipping loafers who refuse to listen to him without her.
And to tell her how much he loves her. He will love her forever, even if she disappears for days in a cat sanctuary his firm funded months ago.
A fool, of course Yet every time he remembers the day she opened her eyes, he convinces himselfwhile shes near, nothing else matters more than her delightful foolishness. So he will keep chasing those impulsive, absurd whims that make her unbelievably happy.
Always, while its still not too late.
