Five years ago, my neighbor Vera buried her husband, a World War II veteran, and was left all alone. They had no children. The elderly woman often reminisced about her dear Michael.
They married just before the war broke out. Then Michael went off to fight, and loyal Vera waited for him. Michael came back alive, but missing his left hand. He loved his wife dearly and cherished her greatly. He swore to always protect her, but sadly could not keep that promise when he passed away, leaving her alone.
On the anniversary of her husband’s death, a large black cat appeared at her doorstep. It showed up in the middle of a snowy night, meowing pitifully. Despite the raging storm outside, Vera somehow heard the cat’s cries. When she opened the door, she found the unfamiliar cat. Feeling sorry for the poor creature, she let it into her home and even set out a saucer of milk for it.
However, refusing the milk, the cat strutted through the rooms with a proud, independent demeanor. After inspecting the house, it settled onto Vera’s pillow, began to purr, and fell asleep.
For some reason, Vera did not shoo the cat away and settled next to it. In the morning, she got a better look at the cat. It was well-groomed and plump, unlike any stray she’d seen. Completely black with striking green eyes, it had an air of confidence. There was something striking about it too: it was missing the fingers on its left paw, as if they’d been torn off.
“Just like my Michael!” Vera tearily exclaimed. The cat softly leapt into her lap, purring warmly.
“Well, we need to give you a name, don’t we? How about ‘Tom’?” she suggested, gently stroking its fur and scratching behind its ear.
The cat flinched, giving Vera such an intense look that she was taken aback.
ITS EYES WERE HUMAN! NOT “LIKE HUMAN EYES,” BUT ACTUALLY “HUMAN”!
“I see. You don’t like ‘Tom.’ How about ‘Toby’? It’s a nice name!” Vera hastily added.
With a dissatisfied meow, the cat jumped off her lap, growled, and began scratching at the sofa intently.
“Alright, alright. I won’t give you a name just yet. You’ll just be ‘Cat.’ But please, leave the sofa alone,” Vera kindly requested.
The cat mumbled something indistinctly, complied with her request, and pompously left for the bedroom. And so, Vera and the Cat lived together from that day on.
I visited Vera quite often, and she told me amazing tales about the Cat! For one, the Cat seemed to heal her. After Michael’s passing, Vera suffered a heart attack and her heart frequently troubled her. But whenever she lay down, the Cat was there in an instant, climbing onto her chest, purring until she fell asleep. The pain would disappear as if by magic.
One remarkable incident occurred when Vera lay down to rest. The Cat snuggled next to her, purring sweetly. There was a knock at the door. Rising, Vera went to answer it, with the Cat following her. It was Victor, the local drunk and troublemaker. He demanded money for his fix, crudely swearing. Vera tried to refuse, but he insisted and grew more aggressive by the minute, even going so far as to insult Vera and desecrate the memory of her late husband.
Suddenly, the Cat growled ferociously and leaped at him. Though Victor pushed it away, the Cat returned, nearly sinking its teeth into his throat. Swearing, Victor backed down and left. The Cat then looked at Vera with its HUMAN eyes, raised its tail high, and retired to the other room, content with its accomplishment.
Once, Vera planned to visit the council about some logs and asked me to join her. We would take the bus to the town center. I agreed, took a day off work, and arrived at her house early the next morning. Vera was sitting on her bed, dressed in her nightclothes, looking confused and a bit upset.
“Vera, why aren’t you ready? We might be able to catch a lift,” I insisted.
“I won’t be going, sorry,” she quietly responded.
“Why not?”
“I don’t know how to say it… Don’t laugh, but the Cat told me not to go.”
“What?! I took time off work, and now this? Get ready!” I retorted angrily.
“Listen, I had everything prepared last night and went to sleep. I dreamt the Cat spoke to me, just like you are. It said,
‘Stay home, Vera. You shouldn’t travel tomorrow.’
I couldn’t speak! It’s not just that it talked, but it called me ‘Vera’! Only my dear Michael ever called me that. AND THE CAT’S VOICE WAS EXACTLY LIKE MICHAEL’S!
And then the Cat sang a song Michael loved:
‘Over the wild English plains,
Where the gold hides in hills…
Remember, love, I used to sing it when leaving for the front?’
I found the strength to ask:
‘Michael, is that really you?’
‘WHO ELSE BUT ME? I SEE HOW HARD IT IS FOR YOU ALONE, SO I CAME BACK.’
So, love, stay home tomorrow. There won’t be any good news. The logs will be delivered in a week anyway. Tell Lucy to cancel her surgery; she won’t survive it…”
Then I awoke.”
To say I was shocked would be an understatement. I stood there for a while, gasping like a fish.
Then it struck me:
“Vera, are you feeling alright? Perhaps I should call an ambulance. Your blood pressure might have spiked.”
“I’ve never felt better! I just spoke with my dearest Michael!” she replied, tears shining in her eyes.
Still, I checked her blood pressure. Astonishingly, it was normal!
From that day on, Vera started calling the Cat Michael. Strangely enough, it responded immediately to that name!
Soon after, Vera’s predictions (or the Cat’s?) started coming true. The bus we planned to take almost tipped over that day. Due to icy roads, the driver lost control. Thankfully, no one died, although there were many injuries. Just a coincidence? Maybe. Exactly a week later, Vera’s logs arrived.
My neighbor asked me to call Lucy, Michael’s niece, to cancel her scheduled surgery. Lucy, however, didn’t listen and tragically passed away during the operation.
ANOTHER COINCIDENCE? I doubt it.
Vera lived out her days with her Cat Michael, who continued to heal and protect her. He stayed by her side until the very end…
Vera lived to 94 and passed away last year. She remained active up until the end, always worried about Michael. She made me promise to care for him if she should pass. She went peacefully, quietly, in her sleep…
I remember her cat’s mourning. Aged, with his once luscious black coat now streaked with gray. For three days while Vera’s casket lay in the house, Michael didn’t stray far from it. I SAW THE TEARS STREAMING FROM HIS EYES!
People scolded and shooed him, yet he repeatedly returned to sit and weep beside the casket!
Michael accompanied Vera to her grave. When she was buried, he stayed behind. I tried to catch him, hoping to bring him home, but he ran off…
Michael remained at the cemetery on Vera and Michael’s grave. Each day, I would visit him and bring him food. I worried about how he would fare through the winter and tried in vain to take him in by force. Finally, I succeeded one day, but he escaped, only to be found back at the grave the next day.
The winter was harsh, but he endured.
He died in early spring. When I went to feed him, I found him on the grave, curled up near Vera’s cross, as though watching over her in eternal rest…
I don’t know if Michael was just a regular cat or truly held the soul of the late Michael…
There’s much talk of reincarnation, suggesting someone could return as anyone, even a cat.
I’m unsure if that’s possible. But I’d like to believe in this case, that the soul of dear Michael inhabited the cat. He returned to his beloved Vera to protect and save her…
And stayed with her until the end, just as he had promised.
