It was a late winter morning, the sort that seems to take forever to brighten. Out in the courtyard, I could make out the scraping of spades as the council workers cleared away slushy snow.
People hurried out of the front door of our block, letting it bang shut behind them as they dashed off to work.
My cat, Percy, was perched on the sixth-floor windowsill, observing all of this with wise, unblinking eyes.
Percy hadnt always been a cat, so I reckon. In what mustve been another life, hed probably been an accountant, never caring about anything apart from money.
But now, old Percy had truly learned what matters most. Theres nothing more valuable, he seemed to say, than a kind glance, some heartfelt warmth, and a safe roof above your head. The rest will fall into place, one way or another.
Turning away from the window, Percy looked over at my mums old sofa, where dear old Mrs Mabel, his rescuer, was fast asleep.
He padded quietly over and settled himself at her head, pressing his soft, warm fur gently against her thinning hair on the edge of her pillow.
You see, every morning poor Mrs Mabel would wake with a headache, and Percy always tried to do what little he could now.
Percy, you really are my little doctor, she murmured, eyes opening as she felt his comforting weight. Youve cured it again! Clever lad, thank you. However do you manage it?
Percy gave a casual little flick of his paw, as if to say, Oh, thats nothingtheres plenty more where that came from!
Just then, from the hallway, came a low, grumbling sound. That would be the dog, Barkley, getting jealous again.
Barkley had been Mrs Mabels loyal companion for years, her constant protector. At the slightest hint of a strangers footsteps, he would set up a proper racket, just so everyone knew Mrs Mabel was safe under his guard.
He always fancied himself the true master of the house.
I sometimes wonder what Barkley might have been in a past lifea foreman, perhaps, or maybe a bobby. Hes incredibly loud and takes his responsibilities seriously. Still, let him get on with it, I say. Perhaps we do feel safer with him about.
Oh, you two, whatever would I do without you? Mrs Mabel sighed, heaving herself up from the sofa with a little groan. Let me get you some breakfast and then well nip outside for a walk.
And if my pension comes in this week, she promised, well treat ourselves to a nice roast chicken.
At the mere mention of chicken, both animals were overjoyed.
Percy kneaded the sofa with his paws, purring so hard the whole cushion vibrated, and gently head-butted Mrs Mabels bony, arthritic hand.
Cheeky old thing, arent you? she chuckled, overjoyed that he understood. Barkley barked once, as if to say hed caught every word too, then pressed his big, wet nose against her knee.
Ah, these little soulshow much warmer a home they make, and how much less lonely the heart feels, she thought, smiling quietly.
And when Im gone, she mused, what will become of them? People say so many things, but who can really tell?
If theres another turn of the wheel, Id want to come back as a cat, she decided find some good folk to live with. I wouldnt mind being a dog, but I doubt Id manage all that barkingIm too gentle for that. Still, whos to say? As a cat, though, Id do well: affectionate and soft, as long as I end up with kind people.
Good heavens, she laughed, catching herself, what strange thoughts old age brings!
She never noticed Percys knowing little smile as he cast a triumphant look at Barkley.
See? Shed rather be a cat than a dog.
Funny thingPercy seemed to be reading minds now, which wasnt a bad perk for a cat.
So there you have it. Life has a funny way of showing you whats valuable. Under this roof, its not pound notes or promotions, but the faithful companions curled up beside you, and the simple, quiet comfort they bring. What Ive learnt is this: real warmth makes all the difference in the world.
