It has rained overnight, but Anders looks dry. But he is still there. Calling.
When he came close to me a few days ago, low on his haunches, I thought, you're not a boy. You're a girl. And so much smaller than I'd thought. Now, I don't know. That head. The ears a little torn at the tops. I don't know.
He's eaten the food. Good cat.
I go for a run. Return. He rises to attention when he sees me. Starts calling. I go out. Cluck to him. Squat and wait. He comes. Close and closer.
Suddenly, he's rubbing against me in an ecstasy of proximity. I wait, move, start stroking the silk-soft fur. He's there. Between my hands. Warmth and purrs and desperate, just desperate to be close. i know this is it. A barrier crossed. For me and him. As I feel that fast-beating heart I know I can't leave him out here. My own heart scurries in response. I feel the cat in my soul and I pick him, hold him to me, our body heat combining and the rush of affection intoxicating.
his fur is a little matted so I go inside to get my brushes. I know he'll wait, and he does.
He loves the brushing, the combing, even when it pulls the tangled downy fluff behind his ears. I feel such love. And I know what I have to do.
I leave him and prepare the cat carrier. Then I pick him up again and place him inside. He does not object. We go to the car and he's padding the soft cushions as he'd padded my coat when I held him in my arms.
The veterinary nurse scans him and he has a microchip. A much loved cat, she says, not a stray. Yes, I think, much loved by me. Brushed by me.
Lisa, my receptionist friend calls the owner. Yes, they had a cat. Went missing eight weeks ago. Daisy. Not Anders. Daisy. Yes, they'll collect her.
The staff are beaming. A happy ending.
I burst into tears. Beg to say goodbye. Oh Daisy, oh Daisy.
The owner calls me. Thank you, she says. You've cared for her. Thank you. She's 14 and had never gone missing before. But, she says, she's just crouching behind the sofa mewing. We have three other cats, you see. If she doesn't settle in, will you have her?
I say, no - I have two cats and a dog.
I say, oh God, if it doesn't work, call me. Please call me.
Oh Daisy. I want her to be happy. I want her to be loved. I want her sweet affectionate heart to resonate with the heart of someone who loves her. I want this for all of them, the creatures we buy and sell, take and leave. I want them to feel safe. To be safe. To know they are safe.
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