My grandmother was always a cat lover, so growing up we were always surrounded by cats. Since then, I’ve always had an affinity for them and always knew how to handle them. I knew the spots they like rubbed, how to rub them and how to befriend them. Both of our neighbours have cats and I would always pet them when I saw them outside. One of the cats, Alfie, was always much friendlier than the other (whose name I don’t know).
After Nanny passed away, every time I saw a cat it took on another meaning. It was a reminder of one of the things that Nanny loved and brought back memories of Tommy sitting on my lap and nanny showing me how to stroke him.
I began to see Alfie more often. He allowed me to pet him more often and became attached to me. One day, he cautiously entered our house. Sniffing around, he quickly realised that this was foreign territory and ran out. The next time he came in, he ventured halfway up the stairs before making a swift exit. After a few trips, he became comfortable at home.
During his now-frequent-visits, my family got to know him. He became attached to them and allowed them to pet him. He meows outside the door at 5Am, aware that my dad comes downstairs at that time. Someone’s available to open the door for him so that he can run in and have his breakfast. I use the word “breakfast” very loosely, as it implies that Alfie only has 3 meals a day. This fat feline has multiple meals a day. He’s back outside our house at 9Am, for breakfast round 2, a stroking session from either Bhai or myself, some water (from only one tap, as he’s a rather fussy cat), some grooming time and then a nice long nap on my bed, with a soft, luxurious duck feather duvet to sleep on. He’s certainly high maintenance. He goes out for some fresh air and then waits outside at 5PM, when my parents return, to open the door for him.
He’s become part of our family, to the point that it feels weird when I see him next door with his real owners. He started coming into our house at the same time that Nanny passed away, which may just be coincidental, but as Krista once said, we’re all meaning-making machines, so we might as well make up meaning that serves us. Perhaps it is a coincidence, or perhaps he’s a reminder that Nanny is always around. But mainly, he’s a soft bundle of memories of my beloved grandmother. And he has a bit of a soft spot for me, just like she did.
