This is my lovely cat, Bracken, a tortoiseshell / tabby cross, and I chose her from the local cat and dog rescue centre. Or should I say, she chose me! The owner said she was a very shy cat, wary of strangers, possibly because of ill-treatment in her past. She was certainly hiding at the very back of her cage when I first saw her but just a few gentle words of encouragement were enough to persuade her to inch forward. From then on it was love at first sight! She gladly climbed up into my arms and started purring loudly, rubbing her face into my hands. The bond was there!
She was wonderful company. Forget sophisticated, shop-bought toy mice and jingly balls - this feline could have hours of endless fun chasing screwed-up pieces of paper or the end of my pen as I tried to write letters or fill in crossword puzzles! She was a constant source of amusement and entertainment. I have never known such a friendly cat or such a chatterbox! She would always respond with a cheery "miaow" when spoken to and offered the warmest welcome home. She gave me so much pleasure that I am honoured to be able to dedicate this memorial to her.
I have always been a cat-lover and was inspired to pen these few lines after casual observation ...
Tale of a cat
The hour is late, his owners have not returned, all is dark and quiet, doors and windows are closed, and the cat is hungry. He sits at the window, listening for movement, but nothing stirs. The hour is late and he is hungry. He lifts his paw and begins to wash himself idly, hoping for time to pass quickly, and yet still nothing moves. A far-away bark, ears prick up, the silence is broken, and the cat urges forward, nose to the window. A dark figure emerges from the shadows, lead in one hand, and walking-stick in the other. The silence is broken, but only for a second as the two silhouettes pass into the darkness again. The silent house creaks, the cat swivels round, leaps from the table to the chair to the floor, and sits intently watching the door, head on one side. Still nothing stirs.
The clock strikes, eyes search, and the cat leaps at the swinging pendulum. The hour is late and the cat is still hungry. Headlights flash, a screech of brakes, laughter and voices, and the cat is happy. He runs to the door, back paws waddling, whiskers forward, tail in the air. His owners have returned. The door opens, footsteps, and the cat purrs and pounds, winding and rubbing against his owner's legs. The kitchen door opens, the cat prances through and paws at the pantry door. The clock strikes, the hour is late, and the cat is not hungry.
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