Molly and the Cat Cafe

The wind seemed to cut through me as I plodded up the hill. Cars raced past, their headlights glistening on the wet asphalt, their drivers no doubt rushing to get home for the evening. When I saw a road sign that read ‘Welcome to Stourton-on-the-Hill, historic market town’, I felt a strange mixture of relief and nervousness. I knew nothing about this town, but had set my heart on it as the place where I would find a home and an owner. Now that I had finally arrived, the enormity of my challenge began to hit me.

The light was fading and it had started to drizzle again. Normally I would have taken this as my cue to stop, to find a nook in the side of a wall or a hollow tree trunk and curl up for the night. My paws were numb with cold, my fur was soaked through, and I was beginning to feel chilled to my bones. But I felt an urge to push on, to make it into town before nightfall.

At the outer edge of the town, I hopped up onto the pavement, feeling suddenly exposed and vulnerable as I passed between shops and parked cars. I paused outside a takeaway restaurant – the smell of spicy meat that wafted out of an air vent made me painfully aware of my hunger. Stepping forward to peer through the restaurant window, I jumped when I saw a wild-looking cat inside, staring at me with a look of panic in its eyes. Startled, I stepped away from the window, my heart racing with shock. Slowly, I crept forwards, approaching the glass for another look. This time, it took only a moment to confirm my worst suspicion: that the wild cat in the restaurant was, in fact, my own reflection looking back at me.

I stared at myself in the glass in disbelief. Where once I had had soft flesh, there was now lean muscle. I could see the knobbles of my spine protruding through my fur, which was dull and matted in places. But it was my face that most surprised me – my chin looked pointed and my eye sockets were hollow. I recoiled in horror, thinking that I looked just like a stray. My heart sank as I realized that was exactly what I had become.

At that moment a man came out of the restaurant clutching a paper bag full of food containers. I closed my eyes momentarily to savour the delicious aromas of lamb and chicken. The man pulled his jacket up over his head to shield himself from the rain, then broke into a run. His feet splashed through a puddle as he ran past me, soaking me with dirty water. I shook what I could off me, knowing that I needed a thorough wash. I also knew I would have to find somewhere to shelter before I could afford myself that luxury.

I heard church bells in the distance. They reminded me of the clock on Margery’s fireplace: six chimes meant my dinner hour, and she was never late, placing my china dish in front of me with a ‘There you go, lovie’. I would eat happily, knowing that once dinner was finished we would settle down for a cuddle on the sofa. She would stroke my back and talk to me as she watched television, and I would purr in reply. That was how it had been with Margery – a routine that had evolved between us, an innate understanding of what the other wanted and needed.

Was it possible that I would ever have that sort of relationship with another person? And, if such a person were out there somewhere, in Stourton-on-the-Hill, how was I to go about finding them?

9

The sky had darkened ominously and heavy droplets of rain pounded my back, but I knew I had to keep walking. My first priority was to eat, and then to find shelter for the night. I lowered my head and followed the sound of the church bells, hoping they would lead me to the centre of town. As I plodded along the pavement a man ran out of a shop in front of me, shaking his umbrella open and spraying me with rainwater. Startled, I darted into a doorway and shook the loose water from my fur. When I peered out, I saw shoppers rushing along the street, their faces hidden by hoods and umbrellas.

I ducked back into the doorway, allowing myself a brief respite from the rain. Rivulets of water gushed along the kerbside gutter a few feet away from me, the drains overflowing in the downpour. The rain bounced relentlessly off the rooftops and dripped from shop awnings onto the pavement. It sounded hard and unforgiving, not like the soft pattering noise of rain falling on fields or hedgerows. My fur was soaked through and my paws were numb with cold, although I knew I had no choice but to carry on, in spite of my discomfort.