I have a pink begonia on my kitchen windowsill. It’s starting to fade now but it has been beautiful all autumn. Lots of people have admired it, and when they do I tell them its story.
Back at the end of the summer, as I was waving my husband off to work, I spotted a badly injured cat dragging itself along on the opposite side of the road.
Well I couldn’t just leave it could I? But I did recognise it. This was a cat my children often saw, lying in the sunshine outside a row of houses in the lane opposite, who they would stop to pet.
So off I went knocking on doors.
Now it seems that everyone around here owns a black and white cat. (myself included). The people from the first door I knocked on went sprinting down the road in a panic – it wasn’t their beloved Skunky but they thought they knew which house it came from.
So I found his owner. He was called ‘Little’ (probably because he wasn’t) and we rushed back to where he lay being comforted by my kids. I fetched my cat basket and a blanket and we carefully lifted him in. And off she took him to the vets.
Later that afternoon her sons called round to return my basket. Inside she had put this lovely begonia to say thanks. Sadly Little had been put down. But every time I look at those lovely pink flowers I think of him.
And now Skunky has gone missing. His owners are putting up posters all round the village. I really hope he comes home soon.
Mimsy is curled up on my knee as I type. Today she will be getting extra big cuddles.