Surprisingly, it was my sleeping and my silent presence that slowly began to unlock Vati. There was a magic moment when I felt him relax against me. He snuggled into my fur with a little sigh, as if he’d waited through a long hard time for the comfort of my brother love. Half asleep, I did a mini purr-meow to encourage him, and I felt his paws reach out and slowly wrap themselves around me.
The magic of the forest seemed there as we slept deeply. The tiny beings of light had somehow stayed with me, and blessed me. Now they clustered over both of us, and the warm radiance of my aura flooded into Vati’s pale thin rim of light, energising and restoring him. I didn’t have to do anything. Only love. And love brings light in all its myriad forms.
Loving Vati back to life was the easiest, most beautiful and nurturing experience. After the long hard journey, it was a sacred gift of contentment, and I knew that, no matter what the humans did, they couldn’t take that away from us. We were twin souls, Timba and Vati, named after the White Lions who had come to save the world.
I woke briefly and saw Vati nestled into me, his face turned upwards in a smile, and I asked for time. Time for the healing to be complete, before the humans came back and tore our lives apart. I longed for Angie and Leroy. Here, with Graham and Lisa, I wasn’t sure what would happen.
Lisa had called me a smelly old cat! Maybe she was only seeing my matted fur, not ME. It hurt. A lot. But I tried not to think about it. I focused on remembering Vati. He’d been such a bright spirit, such fun to play with, and full of mysterious knowledge. He was a hypersensitive cat, a gift of pure gold to the human race . . . so what had happened to him? I still didn’t know.
I was glad it was Graham, and not Lisa, who came in at the end of the afternoon, stamping the snow from his shoes and leaving them on the mat. He padded into the lounge, and recognised me immediately.
‘Timba!’ He stared down at me, and I gave him a cat smile and a purr-meow. I didn’t want to disturb Vati.
‘I don’t believe it!’ Graham said incredulously. ‘How did you get here, Timba? Surely . . . surely you didn’t find your way from South Wales!’
I did one of my yes-meows, and because Graham knew me so well, he understood. He sat down on the floor and looked at me with respect and compassion. Very welcome, after the way Lisa had treated me! I wanted to touch noses with Graham, but I felt committed to keeping still for Vati’s sake. I appreciated Graham bringing his face close to me so that we could touch noses. I felt emotional, so did he, judging by the tears in his eyes. He stroked my fur tenderly, his fingers touching the burrs and tangles. ‘You ARE in a sorry state, Timba,’ he said. ‘And you came through all that snow! Poor fellow. And how did you get across the river? Oh Timba! All that way. What a brave, clever cat.’
Graham was talking to me so kindly, I wanted to cry. I kept doing my yes-meows in response. He looked at Vati who was still curled like a seashell, his chin upwards, looking blissful as he snuggled into my thick fur. ‘Vati needed you,’ Graham said, ‘and you knew, didn’t you, Timba? Poor little Vati. I feel so, so guilty . . . I wish . . .’
He was going to tell me what had happened. I tensed, hearing Lisa coming down the stairs. She opened the door cautiously, peering through. ‘Have you got rid of it?’ she demanded.
Graham looked sheepish, but he kept stroking me.
‘Lisa, this is Timba,’ he said. ‘He’s found his way here, alone, from South Wales for goodness’ sake! Two hundred miles.’
‘I don’t care, Graham. He’s DISGUSTING. I want him out of our house.’
Graham kept his hand on me protectively. ‘I am not going to chuck Timba out in the snow,’ he said steadily. ‘He can’t help being a bit scruffy after a journey like that.’
‘A bit scruffy!’ Lisa looked at me angrily. ‘He stinks to high heaven, and he’s got fleas, and he’s made the sofa such a mess, Graham, and what about Heidi?’
‘What about her? She’s OK, isn’t she? Is she in bed?’
‘She’s asleep, thank God. Otherwise she’d be all over that filthy cat. Graham, it’s a health hazard, and I want it out.’
‘You’re overreacting, darling. I repeat . . . I am not going to chuck him out. He’s staying right here until Angie can collect him.’
‘Have you phoned her?’
‘No . . . I’ve only been here for five minutes. I’ll phone Angie in the fullness of time.’
‘The fullness of time! And meanwhile our home . . . your daughter’s home . . . is being messed up and . . . oh my God . . . is that a piece of chicken on the floor?’
‘Where?’
‘You’re nearly sitting on it.’
Graham turned and saw Vati’s piece of chicken where he had dropped it. He picked it up and put it on the sofa.
‘Don’t put it on the sofa! It’s made enough mess on the carpet. We’ll have germs everywhere. Do you want Heidi to get salmonella?’
Graham refused to get ruffled. He waggled the piece of chicken and winked at me. ‘Who raided the fridge then?’ he teased. ‘Tut tut! You know what, Lisa? This cat can actually open the fridge. He’s brought Vati a meal. Isn’t that sweet?’
‘Stop being so infuriating.’ Lisa’s aura was hanging in shreds. She stamped her foot and yelled at Graham. ‘OK . . . either you sort these cats or I’m packing my bag, taking Heidi to stay with my mum. Right now.’ She turned and went out, slamming the door and making Vati jump. I purred into his ear and gave him a lick on the top of his head, and he settled back into sleep.
Graham sighed and rolled his eyes.
‘I’d better ring Angie,’ he said. ‘She’ll be ecstatic.’
In the deep of the night I found out what was wrong with Vati, and it was worse than anything I could have imagined.
As always, I awoke at midnight. I heard Graham’s mother’s clock chiming all of its chimes. I disentangled myself from Vati and climbed up to my favourite windowsill. The snowstorm was over, and a yellow moon shone on the silent snow. Each twig and branch of the apple tree was encrusted with glitter.
It occurred to me that, in the morning, I wouldn’t have to be on a journey. I was free to eat and play! First, I raided the fridge again and found the rest of the chicken. I took the best, most succulent chunk to Vati. This time he looked at me, and he did eat a little bit. Once he’d done that, he ate more, then he sat up and stared at me. I stared back and saw that he wanted me to notice the pain in his mystic eyes.
‘So what happened?’ I asked.
Silently Vati held out his front paw to me. It looked strange, and there was a sense of heat and pain. I sniffed it, then Vati silently held out the other one. It was the same.
‘What happened?’ I asked again.
I waited, and Vati began to cry and cry, the way a very distressed cat cries, in little squeaks and growls. His pain was beyond words, and it wasn’t physical pain, from an accident or illness. Vati had been assaulted. His beautiful paws, such a tender part of this sensitive little cat, had been deliberately damaged.
My dreams of playing in the snow with Vati disappeared under a black cloud. I let him cry, and sat close, licking and comforting him as best I could. When he had cried enough, he did manage to tell me the appalling truth.
‘They took my claws away,’ he said, and flexed his toes so that I could understand. His magnificent claws had gone. Just gone! And to Vati it felt as if his whole life had been ruined. He was no longer joyful and free to play and climb. He couldn’t defend himself. And he felt violated.
No wonder I had sensed that Vati was willing himself to die.
‘Why?’ I asked, devastated.
‘Heidi pulled my tail, really hard,’ he said. ‘It hurt all along my spine, and she wouldn’t stop it, so I scratched her. Then Lisa got the broom and chased me outside, and the next day when I was eating my breakfast, she grabbed me and put me in the cat cage. She took me to the vet and told him she wanted me de-clawed. Rick refused to do it, so she drove me to another vet and he did it . . . put me to sleep, and when
I woke up my front paws were burning with pain. I couldn’t walk, and I couldn’t balance. I couldn’t believe what they’d done to me.’
‘That’s terrible,’ I said, and felt his pain intensely in my own paws, and in my heart.
‘And it’s for ever,’ Vati said.
I felt powerless and angry. Was this what the Spirit Lion had felt? Shocked beyond words at the cruelty imposed by humans. I seriously considered taking Vati off into the wild. We would travel on the golden road and live in the forest, in secret, away from humans, for the rest of our lives. I pledged never to leave my brother again.
The instant I thought about him, the Spirit Lion appeared. Vati’s eyes grew luminous and round and his aura brightened around his sleek fur. We were lying side by side, and the lion cupped us both in velvet paws. A lion purrs differently to a cat, only on the out-breath, but the purr is loud, like a drum roll. We snuggled together in the bliss of his light. I sensed that Vati had not purred since losing his claws, but he did now, and hearing his economical little purr blending with my loud one was calming and uplifting.
‘You are not powerless, Timba,’ breathed the Spirit Lion, ‘because you can love, and it’s never too late for love.’ He looked at Vati tenderly. ‘You two cats have a destiny. You must stay together now, but not in the wild. Vati needs care. He can’t get his claws back, but he can learn to live again with your encouragement, Timba . . . something you’re so good at.’
I glowed with joy. To be praised at such a time was brilliant.
‘Both you cats can teach and inspire,’ added the Spirit Lion, and he showed me Leroy who was far away in South Wales, awake and at the window watching that same yellow moon on the snow. ‘Humans cannot teach Leroy. He has encrypted knowledge and courage to follow his dreams. He needs love in abundance, for he has chosen a lonely path. Every day of his life he faces bullying and hostility from those who seek to disempower him, yet he keeps a cheerful heart.’
‘So what can we teach him?’ I asked.
‘Unconditional love. Always and for ever. And from the source, all good intentions flow. Power and courage and understanding. Unconditional love is the beginning of healing and the gateway to true knowledge.’
The Spirit Lion gave a huge sigh. ‘Remind him . . . and Angie . . . to have fun, for humour is the bridge over troubled waters.’
I felt him vanishing into the crystal silence of the snow. ‘Stay together,’ he whispered, and left us, curled close in Vati’s corner of the sofa.
At first light, Lisa tiptoed downstairs and threw me a look of pure hatred. She came towards me, her hands engulfed in a pair of yellow rubber gloves. Then she changed her mind, and went into the kitchen. She slammed the fridge closed, took a roll of sticky tape from a drawer and taped the cat flap shut! She opened the door to the garden and cold air came in like smoke.
With her hands spread wide she approached me again. She was tense, and breathing fast, her eyes watching me. I got it. Lisa was going to grab me with those horrible yellow gloves, and chuck me out in the snow.
Vati sensed it too. He looked at Lisa and did the extended-meow. It was an appeal, straight from the heart. ‘Don’t take my brother away,’ but Lisa kept coming. I dug myself in, pressed against the back of the sofa.
She grabbed me, but I hung on, hooking my claws into the upholstery. She pulled and pulled, but I resisted. She was panting now. ‘Come on . . . come on. You are going OUT,’ she muttered, and I did something I’d never done before. I growled at her like a dog, and glared into her frustrated eyes. Vati joined in, growling and making a terrible fish face.
‘You stubborn old bugger,’ she ranted, and let me go. She was shaking all over. She went back into the kitchen, tore the tape off the cat flap and flung the yellow rubber gloves into a cupboard.
Vati and I looked at each other triumphantly. Round one . . . to Timba and Vati!
Chapter Seventeen
HEALING THE HURT
‘Why do people keep calling me old?’ I asked Vati. ‘I’m a young cat.’
‘It’s your fur,’ he said tactfully. ‘It needs a good sort-out.’
‘Angie would know what to do,’ I said, and we both looked serious. It occurred to me that Vati looked better and was responding to me now. I remembered what the Spirit Lion had said about fun. ‘We’re getting too serious,’ I said, and looked around for the catnip mouse. Lisa had gone upstairs, so I got down and found it tucked away in a little basket under the window. Pleased, I took it over to Vati and put it under his nose. Light flashed through his eyes, just for a second, and I waited for him to play with it. Instead, he pushed it away and bunched his paws under himself again, setting his face back into frozen mode.
So I opted for a mad half-hour on my own . . . in this house I knew so well. Maybe Vati would join in, I thought, flinging the catnip mouse into the air. I took it over to Graham’s shoes and stuffed it into the toe. Then I had fun getting it out and chased it around. I even got bold and took it to the top of the stairs and dropped it through the banisters. I pretended not to notice Vati’s eyes on me, with that fleeting light of interest flickering through them. He wanted to play. Give me a few days and I’ll have him playing, I thought.
I got wilder and wilder, tearing up and down the stairs and over the back of the sofa, skidding along the kitchen floor and crumpling the rug that was in there. I found one of Heidi’s teddy bears and gave it a beating. I got right on top of it and kicked it with my back legs. Then I grabbed it by one ear, skidded along the kitchen worktop with it, and dropped it in the washing-up bowl. I hadn’t had so much fun for weeks.
But the sound of a door being opened upstairs sent me bounding back onto the sofa. I dug myself in, next to Vati. My eyes were wild and my fur itching like mad. I scratched furiously, scattering fluff all over the sofa.
It was Graham. Phew!
I wanted to tell him exactly how Lisa made me feel, how it had hurt to be called a smelly old cat at the end of a long, long journey, so I did an amplified extended-meow. He listened, and sat down beside us, smelling of shower gel and bundled in his cuddly blue towelling robe. ‘Don’t worry, Timba,’ he said, ‘I’ve been chucked out of bed to ring Angie . . . catch her before she goes to work.’
I stared into Graham’s eyes and studied the strange mixture of kindliness and guilt. It was rare for me to do two amplified extended-meows . . . one was usually enough . . . but I wanted him to know how much Vati was suffering, so I did another one, and put my paw on Vati’s bony little head.
‘Oh dear . . . I know, I know, Timba,’ Graham said. ‘Vati is not a happy cat. I’ll have to tell Angie. She’ll go ballistic.’
He invited me onto his lap to listen to the phone call, but I was determined to stay close to Vati. We both listened to the sound of Angie’s phone ringing.
‘Hello, this is Angie.’
When I heard that beautiful, warm, expectant voice again, I was overwhelmed with joy. Vati was listening too, and his eyes shimmered green as he looked at me. Is this really happening? he was thinking. We sat up, side by side, gazing attentively into the phone. I half expected a plate of Whiskas rabbit to come whizzing down the line. And a brush. That’s what Angie would have for me: a brush to heal my fur, and an angel cuddle to heal my soul.
‘Graham!’ she said brightly. ‘Why so early?’
‘I tried to get you last night,’ he said.
‘Parents’ evening,’ said Angie. ‘It went on for ever. So come on . . . spill. Graham, it’s not like you to ring at this time. Has somebody died?’
‘No,’ said Graham, and his eyes sparkled with pleasure at what he was going to tell her. ‘Guess who turned up here?’
‘Who?’
‘Timba.’
‘TIMBA! Surely not?’
‘Yes, it’s Timba. He’s OK, here on the sofa right next to me.’
There was a brief silence. Then we heard the scream of joy that made Graham smile. Even Vati narrowed his eyes and gave a ghost of a cat smile. I could see how m
uch Vati wanted Angie. He needed her healing love, desperately.
‘But, Graham,’ Angie said, ‘Timba went missing last autumn . . . it’s February now. Are you sure it’s him?’
‘One hundred per cent,’ said Graham, and he stroked the top of my head. ‘Purr for Angie.’ He held the phone close to my face. I did yet another amplified extended-meow, and was rewarded with a second scream of joy.
‘That sounds like Timba. It IS him. Oh my God! Oh wow . . . I can’t stop crying. Oh Timba . . . you found your way down there . . . two hundred miles . . . oh you darling, darling, clever cat. I can’t stop crying. Oh THANK YOU, UNIVERSE!’
Graham beamed from ear to ear. ‘A long time since I’ve heard THAT,’ he said.
‘Is he really OK?’ Angie asked. ‘All his legs and tail . . . no injuries?’
‘No. He’s in full working order,’ said Graham. ‘His fur is a mess, and he was hungry . . . but he hasn’t forgotten how to open the fridge.’
‘I LOVE it!’ Angie said. I wondered what she would say if she knew that Lisa had called me a smelly old cat. ‘Hang on a minute, Graham . . . I’ve got to wake Leroy.’ We listened and heard Angie’s swift footsteps, and the squeak of Leroy’s bedroom door. She didn’t yell at him, but whispered, ‘Wake up, Leroy. Fantastic news. You’ve got to wake up.’
There was a subterranean grunt of protest.
‘Graham’s got Timba. And he’s OK.’
‘Aw! Is that true, Angie? No kidding?’
‘No kidding. Timba is BACK.’
We heard them bang their hands together and shout, ‘YES!’
‘Gimme the phone,’ Leroy said, and then I heard another sound I’d longed for on my lonely journey. A scratchy voice saying, ‘Hello, Timba.’ I did purr-meows then, a whole stream of them. ‘Where you been, Timba? I missed you. I cried lots,’ Leroy said.
‘He’s kissing the phone,’ Graham said, laughing at me.
I imagined Leroy’s bright face. The ache in my heart had gone, and I felt the love from both my humans. I felt like the luckiest cat on the Planet.
Timba Comes Home Page 16
