Feline friend.

Milly, also known as ‘Milly-kins’ or ‘squiggy’ is the black, white & ginger patched cat I received on my 13th Birthday from my parents. Before receiving Milly as a wonderful gift, I had previously owned other pets but my dream was to own a cat or a dog. Without fail, and this isn’t an exaggertion, I’d write ‘PLEASE CAN I HAVE A CAT OR DOG!’ in bold capital letters on the present idea lists that my family requested each Birthday and Christmas. It took a good, long awaited eight or nine years until my parents finally answered my prayers of presenting me with a fluff ball of cuteness. 

It was two days before my birthday. My parent’s and I just had a normal Saturday, shopping at our local shopping centre. Usually we would go directly home after shopping to eat a late lunch, but my Mum keep talking in code to my Dad to encourage him to take a detour to two towns away from where we resided. I thought ‘where the heck are we going?’ just wanting to go home, as I get hangry (anger when hungry). Once almost there my Mum asked if I would like to go with them to the pet shop. I love viewing the animals, but without the intent to buy one is frustrating. I want to own all the rabbits and miniature hamsters! My Mum gave up with talking indirectly as I wasn’t getting her hints. She said: ‘do you want to get a kitten? You want one, right?’ DID I WANT A KITTEN?! I HAD BEEN BEGGING FOR YEARS! I thought this was another of my parent’s sick jokes in revenge for the sarcastic whitty humour I often expressed towards them. I was pleasantly surprised to find out they truely wanted me to chose a kitten of my own. 

There were two ginger kittens, unrelated, with a slightly older grey tabby kitten. All were so perfect that it took a little time to decide on which on to home, after all it hadn’t settled in that I was finally going to get the companion that I had longed for. I was just about to ask my parents if it was okay to pay for the slightly pricer ginger female when Milly, then nicked named ‘Piglet’ because she was the runt of the litter with a big appetite, came into view from the corner of the cage where she was sleeping. She stretched out her front legs against the cage door, letting out a tiny, adorable ‘meow’. I knew she was the one for me. It became apparent that the ginger female cat which I first laid my eyes on was Milly’s sister and their mother had died not long after giving birth to the pair. They were hand-reared with the help of a dog: which may explain why she likes to play fetch.

Not before long she turned into my best friend. Dependant on me and couldn’t make me feel bad like some people did in secondary school. She was always there to play with or hug when I returned home from school, helping me though the first time that some immediate family members became serious ill. I didn’t need lots of friends, it didn’t matter if I had almost no one to socialise with during the school holidays. As long as I had my family, a good book and Milly around me, I was comfortable. 

Over the years Milly was a copying mechanism, it wasn’t until I began working with children that I found that I needed her less to feel occupied and needed. Still, she was a great source of comfort after a challenging, tiresome work day. 

I knew at least 7 months prior to leaving England that I was going to move abroad for several years. I know I won’t be returning to live in the UK permanently until Milly is in her last days and sadly I’ve come to accept that she might pass before I come home. As she is already almost 10 years old, I didn’t think it would be fair to disrupt her routine by moving her out the environment in which she has known almost all of her life. I made the choice to do what is best for her as she enters old age, by leaving her to continue to live in my parents home. I need her but I don’t want her to be stressed and confused, even if she was to get used to the change after some time. She will get the attention she needs and be happier by staying put. 

Apparently she has now begun to adjust to me not being around, it seems like it’s easier for cats to adapt than it is for dogs. She missed me for a while, wandering around my parent’s house feeling lost seeming looking for me: expecting me to be in my old bedroom. What was probably more so strange to her was that my brother now owns my past bedroom. It looks completely different and she doesn’t prefer to sleep in their anymore. 

I’m glad she doesn’t have to be rehomed and is comfortable in her familiar surroundings. I just won’t be able to replace her. 

4 thoughts on “Feline friend.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s