She Was Never Lonely. A Simple Tale
It was a late winter morning, and dawn crept sluggishly over the rooftops. Outside, the clatter of shovels echoed through the courtyard as the council workers cleared the snow with methodical rhythm.
The main door would bang shut time and again, letting out a flow of neighbours hurrying to their jobs in the pale light.
On the sixth floor, perched in the window, sat Whiskers the cat, observing all with an air of dignified curiosity.
In another life, Whiskers had lived as a banker, his world entirely consumed by thoughts of pounds, shillings, and pence. Profit and accounts were all that ever crossed his mind.
But now, in his velvet-coated form, Whiskers had come to appreciate that life held greater treasures.
He understood now that there was nothing more valuable than a kind look, a gentle warmth, and a sturdy roof overhead. Everything else, as they say, would follow.
Turning from the window, Whiskers gazed at the old sofa, where dear Granny Edith, his saviour, slept peacefully.
Slipping down from the window ledge, Whiskers nestled himself at the top of her pillow, pressing his soft, warm fur close to her crown.
He knew, as he did every morning, that Granny Edith woke with a headache. He did what little he could to help.
Oh, Whiskers, youre a real doctor, arent you? murmured Granny Edith as she woke and stroked his back, feeling the weight of him ease her pain. There you go again, working your magic. Well done, my clever lad. How do you do it?
Whiskers gave his paw a lazy flick, as if to say it was nothing for him, that he could do far more if needed.
Then, a low rumble came from the hallway it was the jealous grumble of Barker, the dog.
Barker had been Granny Ediths loyal companion for many years, always on guard at the sound of unfamiliar footsteps, his bark booming through the hall to remind everyone that Granny Edith was under his careful watch.
For this, he surely considered himself master of the house.
What was he before, I wonder? A foreman, or a bobby perhaps? mused Whiskers, eyeing Barker with amusement. Hes noisy enough, anyway! Still, he probably does make it a safer place.
My darlings, what would I do without you?” Granny Edith sighed, hauling herself off the sofa with a bit of a groan. Lets get you some breakfast, and then well have a walk outside.
And if my pension comes through this week, well have ourselves a roast chicken.
The word chicken brought instant cheer.
Whiskers began to knead the old sofas edge with eager paws, purring so loudly he nudged Granny Ediths thin, arthritic hand with his broad furry head.
Oh, you big softie you really do know what Im saying, you cheeky thing, chuckled Granny Edith. Barker barked once, as if to say he understood too, then nuzzled his wet nose into her knees.
Bless them, these dear souls. They make home warmer, and my heart a little less lonely, Granny Edith thought, smiling.
When Im gone, what will come next, I wonder? Some say one thing, some another, but who can truly tell? Me, Id like to come back as a cat, to find kind-hearted people to care for me. I couldnt be a dog, barkings not in me Ive always been the quiet sort. But a cat, yes, I think Id make a decent one. Gentle, soft, and if Im lucky, taken in by good folks.
She caught herself and chuckled. Good heavens, what an odd thing to be thinking! Thats what age does to you.
She didnt notice Whiskers whiskered grin, nor the look he gave Barker, full of feline pride.
So, she would choose to be a cat, not a dog.
Besides, Whiskers had learned to read thoughts nowadays quite a handy new talent.
Ah, how the years do change a soul.
