Five years ago, my elderly neighbor, Vera, buried her husband, Henry, who was a war veteran, and found herself all alone. They had no children, and she would often reminisce about her dear Henry.
They married just before the war began, and then Henry went off to fight, while Vera, faithfully, waited for him. Henry returned alive, though he was missing his left hand. He cherished his wife deeply and promised to always protect her from misfortune. But he couldn’t keep that promise, leaving her behind when he passed away.
On the anniversary of Henry’s death, a large black cat turned up at Vera’s doorstep. It seemed to appear from nowhere one stormy night, crying mournfully. The blizzard was fierce, and the wind howled outside, yet somehow Vera heard the cat’s cries. She stepped out, saw the unfamiliar cat, and, feeling sorry for the poor creature, let him into her home, offering a saucer of milk.
The cat, however, with a proud and independent air, ignored the food and inspected the house. After making a thorough exploration, he chose a spot on Vera’s cushion, purred, and fell asleep.
Vera couldn’t bring herself to chase the cat away and lay down next to it. In the morning, she got a closer look at the cat. He was well-groomed and plump, nothing like a stray. Completely black with large green eyes that took up half his face, he had a very confident demeanor. And one important detail caught her attention: the cat’s left paw had no toes, as though they’d been removed.
“Just like my Henry,” the old woman cried softly.
The cat then gently leaped onto her lap and started to purr.
“You need a name, little cat… How about Jasper?” she asked, stroking the animal and scratching behind his ear.
The cat twitched and looked at Vera in such a way that she was taken aback, almost shocked.
HIS EYES WERE HUMAN! NOT “LIKE HUMAN,” BUT TRULY “HUMAN”!
“Got it. You don’t like ‘Jasper’. Then how about ‘Tim’? It’s a nice name!” Vera blurted.
The cat meowed in discontent, jumped off her lap, growled, and began to claw at the sofa’s upholstery.
“Alright, alright. I won’t give you a name just yet. You’ll just be the Cat. Please, leave the sofa alone,” she politely asked. Mumbling something unintelligible, the Cat obliged and retreated to the sitting room.
And so they lived together: Vera and the Cat.
I would often visit Vera, and she shared the most unbelievable stories about her Cat. For one, the Cat seemed to heal her. After Henry’s death, Vera suffered a heart attack, and her heart often troubled her. Yet, whenever she lay down, the Cat would climb onto her chest, purring and promptly falling asleep.
The pain would vanish as if it had never been there!
One day, a particularly strange event occurred. Vera lay down, and the Cat settled next to her, purring sweetly before drifting off to sleep. There was a knock at the door. Vera got up to answer it, the Cat following close behind.
It was Vic, a local drunk and troublemaker. He stuck his foot in the door, swearing crudely, demanding money for a drink from Vera. She tried to refuse, but the brute grew more insistent and rude by the minute, even insulting Vera and defiling the memory of her late husband.
Suddenly, the Cat growled fiercely and leaped at the offender. Vic shoved the Cat away, but it lunged again, almost sinking its teeth into his throat. Swearing, Vic retreated and left.
The Cat, looking at Vera with its HUMAN eyes, raised its tail triumphantly and retreated to the room, having fulfilled its duty.
One day, Vera planned to visit the local council about getting some firewood and asked me to go with her. We were supposed to take the bus to the nearest town. I agreed and, taking a day off work, arrived at her place early in the morning.
Vera was sitting on her bed in her house dress, looking confused and even bewildered.
“Vera, why aren’t you ready? We might catch a ride if we hurry,” I suggested.
“I’ve changed my mind. I’m not going,” she quietly told me.
“Why not?”
“I’m not sure how to say this… Don’t laugh… But the Cat doesn’t want me to go.”
“What?! I took the day off work, and you’re listening to your cat! Get ready!” I demanded, frustrated.
“Listen to me, dear. I prepared everything last night, went to bed, and had a dream where the Cat spoke to me, like you are now… It looked at me and said:
‘Stay home, Vera. You mustn’t go tomorrow.’
I found myself speechless! It wasn’t just that the Cat spoke, but it called me Vera! Only my late Henry called me that! And the Cat’s VOICE WAS EXACTLY LIKE HENRY’S!
Then the Cat started to sing Henry’s favorite song, the one he sang when he left for the war.
I gathered the courage to ask:
“Henry, is that you?!”
“WHO ELSE COULD IT BE?! I see how hard it is for you alone, so I came back…”
“So, Vera, don’t worry and tomorrow just stay home. You won’t gain anything by going. The firewood will arrive in a week, anyway. Tell Lucy not to go through with the surgery—it’ll be too much for her…”
And with that, I woke up.”
I was speechless. I couldn’t just dismiss this! I stared for the longest time, gasping like a fish out of water.
Then it hit me:
“Vera, are you feeling alright? Should I call a doctor? Maybe your blood pressure spiked.”
“Never felt better, dear! I talked to my darling Henry!” Vera said, smiling through tears. I checked her pressure, and surprisingly, it was perfectly normal!
From that day, Vera called her cat Henry. Oddly enough, he immediately responded to the name!
Soon, Vera’s (or the Cat’s?) predictions came to pass with uncanny accuracy. The bus we were supposed to take to town almost flipped over that very day. It was icy, the bus skidded, and the driver lost control. Thankfully, no one died, but many were hurt. Coincidence? Maybe. A week later, Vera received her firewood, just as foretold.
Vera asked me to call Lucy, Henry’s niece, to warn her against a scheduled operation. Lucy didn’t listen and tragically passed away on the operating table…
ANOTHER COINCIDENCE?! I don’t think so.
And so they stayed together: Vera and her Cat, Henry. He continued to nurse and protect her, staying by her side until the end.
Vera lived to 94, passing away last year. She remained active until the last moment, always concerned about her Henry. She made me promise to look after him if anything happened to her. She passed away quietly, peacefully, in her sleep.
I remember how the Cat mourned for Vera. By then, he was old, his once sleek black coat now grey.
All three days while Vera’s body lay in her home, the Cat stayed by her side. I REMEMBER SEEING TEARS FALL FROM HIS EYES!
People scolded, chased, even kicked him… Yet he somehow ended up back next to the casket, sitting and crying!
Henry followed the funeral procession to the grave and stayed there when she was buried. I tried to catch him to take him home, but he ran off…
The Cat remained at the cemetery, at Vera and Henry’s grave. He refused to come home with me, and I visited him daily, bringing food.
I worried about how he’d survive the winter out there and tried to bring him home by force. Once, I managed to get him to my house, but he escaped the same day—I found him back at the cemetery.
That winter was harsh, yet Henry lived through it. He passed away in early spring. Coming to feed him as usual, I found him nestled on Vera’s grave, curled up beside the cross as if guarding her peace…
I don’t know if Henry was just an ordinary cat or if he truly embodied the soul of Vera’s dearly departed Henry.
These days, there’s a lot of talk about reincarnation, the idea that in the next life, someone could return as anything, even a cat.
I’m not sure if such a thing is possible. But for some reason, I like to believe that in the guise of the Cat lived the spirit of Henry. He came back to his beloved Vera to protect and save her…
And he stayed with her until the very end, just as he promised.
