Cat Lady

A Story by KJBlackwood

It's possible to love cats just a little too much...

This is one of seven stories I've written which I've just uploaded to Amazon for kindle. The collection is called "Seven Endings" by KJ Blackwood. Feel free to take a look! Also I'd like to thank everyone that's given me feedback.

Lots of people are animal lovers. Perhaps some love them just a little too much...

Alice was thirty-three, blonde and a reasonable size twelve, so not exactly slim but by no means large either. A Bridget Jones-type of girl, some might say. She worked in the business travel section of one of the larger travel agencies in an office in Wimbledon Village, that’s the nice posh part of Wimbledon, close to where the tennis club is. Her salary was pretty good and because of it she enjoyed the luxury of being able to live alone in a little flat in Putney, rather than in a flatshare or with a partner like most of her friends (it didn’t occur to her that to most people this might actually be preferable to living by herself). Alone, apart from her cats. Alice was known locally as “Cat Lady” because of her great love for her little feline friends. She was always taking in strays and currently had nine of the creatures living with her. Some might say her love for cats bordered on the obsessive, but Alice considered them to be a necessary part of her life, the way some people can’t live without the hypnotic glow of the TV in the evening, or oxygen.

It was five o’clock on Friday evening and Alice’s boss Janet was celebrating her fortieth birthday, so the whole team was going out for drinks after work: Helen, who lived down the road with her boyfriend; Nadine, who shared a flat in Earls Court with her fiancé; Melissa and Bryony, who shared a flat with two other Aussie Girls in South Wimbledon, and Ruby, who still lived with her parents in Croydon.

“Do we have to go to the Dog and Fox again?” whined Melissa, “There are never any cute guys there, everyone’s either middle-aged or already taken or gay! Let’s go down to All Bar One or somewhere like that " much more lively and I might stand a chance of scoring! What do you reckon?”

“Oh Melissa,” sighed Alice. “There is more to life than meeting men you know. You’re worth so much more than that. You can be fulfilled without being on the arm of some man!”

“Forgive me for not taking advice from you Alice, but you could meet Prince William after a row with Kate and you’d ditch him in a heartbeat if he came between you and your cats” responded Melissa with a bitchy glint in her eye.

“Nonsense. I’m just a realist. All I’m saying is that there’s no Prince Charming out there, that’s all a myth perpetuated by magazines like Cosmopolitan and Elle. There is no perfect man.”

Janet spoke up then. “Alright then everyone, it’s my birthday and I’m the boss so it’s up to me where we go, and I like the Dog and Fox. Plus it’s two minutes from the office so we can shut shop and be there just after six. Okay?”

“I second that”, said Alice, “it’s much nicer than any of the pubs down the hill, and the prices aren’t bad either.”

“It’s also closer to Putney so you can get back to your cats more easily, but never mind, Dog and Fox it is then.” said Melissa moodily. “Girls’ night out again. Marvellous. I can’t wait.” She made no attempt to hide the sarcasm that was practically oozing from her very pores. “Plenty of time for boys at the weekend anyway.”

Melissa was the only person that seemed to have any sort of issue with Alice, perhaps because of her youth. Seeing a woman in her thirties that was (to her mind) already a mad old cat lady stressed to her the urgency of finding a man and not ending up in the same boat. She couldn’t understand why Alice seemed to have given up on finding someone and was happy rescuing every stray moggy in South London. She thought that she pitied Alice, but her youth and inexperience turned that pity into contempt rather than anything so positive as compassion or empathy.

Alice was well known in the office and in fact in the whole company for her love of cats. She seemed to have a constant stream of them " every few weeks she would come into work talking about the latest kitty that she’d rescued. She scoured the internet for adverts from people looking to rehome cats for whatever reason, and occasionally had been known to just come across a stray in the street which she’d then taken in. She sometimes mentioned a cat “moving on” which explained why her flat wasn’t crammed with hundreds of the things.

Alice looked at her watch. A quarter past five. The office officially closed at six but their clients usually wound down around five on a Friday, so barring any emergencies the girls could all start getting ready to go out. Not that there was much for Alice to do, a brush dragged through her hair and a dab of lip gloss was all she needed. Alice was lucky to be a natural beauty, well, perhaps not a beauty but certainly easy on the eye, in a girl-next-door kind of way. Janet on the other hand needed to put a bit more effort in before heading out to the pub, and with it being her birthday she would spend at least 20 minutes in the loo prettifying herself. She was rather average-looking even when made up, but had the personality to make up for what she lacked in looks. She was a popular boss. Melissa, Bryony and Ruby also liked to spend a considerable amount of time getting ready, but only because being in their twenties it was still considered fun and absolutely necessary for any night out. As the four of them left to get made up, Janet to one loo and the three girls to share another, that left Alice in the office with Helen and Nadine.

“I know it’s a Friday night but I’m not up for a late one, I told Rupert that I wouldn’t be back too late, probably about nineish, something like that,” said Nadine.

Nadine was rather under the thumb of her fiancé Rupert, thought Alice. He was a fledgling banker and they were living in Earls Court because his bonuses didn’t yet stretch to Chelsea, but it wouldn’t be long before they did. Nadine was only 22 but had been engaged to Rupert since they were at university together. She hadn’t yet lived a life of her own and never would, because soon she would be a wife, and then a mother. Alice thought it was sad that the poor girl would never know independence and the joys that came with living alone.

“I’m the same, I don’t want to be out late getting drunk. I love Janet to bits but I have a few things to get home to later.”

“I think it’s lovely how you look after cats,” chipped in Helen, “my Simon can’t stick them, says they’re only nice to the person that feeds ‘em, whereas dogs give you unconditional love, like babies. But I like both myself.”

Alice’s face darkened and she felt her fists close involuntarily under her desk. She spoke very calmly and clearly:

“You can tell your Simon that he doesn’t know anything about cats, because if he did he wouldn’t dream of comparing a cat with a dog. Dogs are dirty, they smell. Dogs s**t on the street, they’re incapable of using a toilet. They can’t hold a candle to a cat. Cats are intelligent and loving. People don’t understand them the way I do. If I ever got my hands on the people that hurt some of my babies I’d kill them. Believe me I would.”

Helen’s mouth fell open slightly and she stared at Alice in rather shocked silence. Nadine had a similar expression on her face and Alice felt a bit awkward under their joint gazes.

“Uh, hello! I’m only joking! God, you two, you take me so seriously! Lighten up! Yes I’m a bit of a cat lady but I’m not a mad psycho cat lady! Jesus! I’m just going to nip to the loo, will you be ready to leave at six on the dot?”

With that Alice got up and left the room to go to the loo. She didn’t need it, but she wanted to remove herself from the awkwardness. She conceded that she did sometimes become rather over-animated when talking about cats. She used to wonder if her love of cats was perhaps a bit strong, but had decided long ago that it wasn’t. How many men get worked up talking about their obsession with football or rugby for god’s sake? Or how many women raved about Brad Pitt? Her love for cats was perfectly normal, in fact it was healthier, because at least her cats were real, tangible creatures.

Two hours later Alice found herself in the Dog and Fox as a fourth very large glass of white wine was placed in front of her. There was no way she was going to be able to drink it. Glasses are so big these days that the three she’d already drunk were equivalent to a whole bottle of wine. Friday night or no Friday night, it was too much for Alice. She was going to have to head home. Cue the irritating and embarrassing task of explaining to everyone that she was leaving early.

“Janet it’s been lovely coming out for your birthday, but I’ve got to get back home now. I can’t finish this wine so you have it.”

“No way! It’s only just gone eight! You can’t possibly have to leave already! It’s my birthday! Come on, stay out a bit longer!”

It always pissed Alice off that people can’t just be gracious and accept the fact that someone wants to go home. What’s the big deal?

“If she wants to go let her go,” slurred Melissa. She was drinking pints of Stella faster than the others were drinking wine so she was three sheets to the wind already. “her precious p*****s will be missing her. Poor little p*****s...!”

“Stop it Mel,” said Helen, “if Alice wants to go let her go!”

“I’d love to stay Janet but I’ve got the cats to feed. They’re house cats so they don’t go outside. Their dinner’s already late and they’ll be a nightmare if I’m any later.”

“It’s ok Alice, I understand, text me over the weekend and I’ll see you Monday,” said Janet.

“Yes I will, thanks Janet.” Alice slid her glass of wine over the table to Janet and picked up her bag to leave. “Night everyone. Don’t get too drunk!” With that remark she looked pointedly at Melissa who scowled back at her. Stupid b***h, she managed to convey with her eyes.

Alice walked out of the pub and turned right to the bus stop. There was usually a bus every ten minutes or so, even at this time of the evening because the rush hour wasn’t long over, and she only stood waiting for a few minutes before one turned up. Her head was a little fuzzy due to the bottle of wine sloshing about in her stomach, and so her excitement at getting home to her babies was a bit numbed. She still tingled with anticipation though, because she had a special job to do tonight. It was time again. Who was it to be? On special evenings like tonight she liked to focus all her love on just the one cat. Really connect with one in the most intense way possible, a communion almost, a sharing of spirits. She didn’t know why one night was different to another, she had no idea why this one was special, the same way that so many other nights had been special in the past. It just was. She had a sense of these things.

Arthur. Yes. Arthur would receive her attentions tonight. He was a black cat with white socks. Very cute to look at and affectionate with it. She’d seen him advertised in the local paper by a family that wanted to rehome him because they were worried about having a cat and a newborn baby " such a ridiculous urban myth about cats sleeping on babies faces! Alice hadn’t corrected them about it because she’d wanted a new feline friend. Arthur’s loss was her gain. That was almost a year ago now and he’d been a wonderful companion ever since. Tonight she would reward him.

Alice’s home was only ten minutes from Wimbledon, and as she stepped off the bus she could see her flat a couple of hundred yards away, with a light on in the living room that was set on a timer for those evenings when she knew she’d be home late. The block of flats wasn’t much to look at. You’d think that it was ex-council from its age, the design, its lack of double glazing and the general tired air about it, but it wasn’t, it was just badly maintained by the managing agents. Alice didn’t care though, she loved her little flat, with its cosy living room and solitary bedroom.

The flat was silent as Alice approached the front door, but as she inserted her key into the lock she could hear a chorus of mewing start up behind the thin layers of wood, and it warmed her heart.

“Hello my darlings!” she cooed as she set foot in the small hallway. Cats immediately started to weave in and out of her legs, like multi-coloured furry eels. She paused, enjoying the feeling of the fur on her bare legs, it was electrifying, as if energy was passing from the cats directly into her through the touch of fur. This was what it was all about. This was love.

Alice went straight to the kitchen, followed by a harmony of purring, and took seven tins of cat food from a cupboard. She had vast amounts of the stuff, various different brands. If there was a special offer at the supermarket she would bulk buy whichever brand of cat food it was, just to keep costs down. With so many cats it would be prohibitively expensive to buy the same brand at full price all the time. She had seven souls to feed at the moment but her cat population fluctuated a lot and she might have as many as 15 or 16 at any one time. That’s a lot of cat food to buy.

Alice set the cans down on the worktop and half a dozen cats joined her, rubbing themselves against her arms as she began to open the tins and carefully spoon the contents onto seven individual little plates. This was one of the things that she loved about cats, the way that they really appreciated the fact that you were feeding them, and they showed their appreciation physically. She had the six cats brushing against her arms and purring loudly, two rubbing themselves against her legs still, but where was the seventh one? She glanced around the kitchen. Arthur was sitting by the door watching her silently. No purring or any apparent movement at all. He knew.

Cats were so clever, Alice thought. They often knew when it was their time. Perhaps she had a mental connection with them? Either way, the cats’ awareness only made her feel even closer to them. She wasn’t embarrassed when people referred to her as the “Cat Lady”, in fact she was quite proud of it, because she really felt that she was a cat lady. The Cat Lady.

She put the seven bowls of food on a mat on the floor to the left of the sink, and her babies swarmed around them, neatly nibbling at the food. Only Arthur didn’t partake. He continued to watch her. Not nervously, but calmly and curiously, as if he not only knew what was next but he also accepted it. Alice walked over to him and scooped him up and against her breast. He didn’t make a sound but she could feel his little heart beating against her. Her baby.

She carried Arthur to the living room and sat down in her comfortable armchair, all the while stroking him and kissing him on the head.

“Hey my baby, I love you so much. You love me too don’t you? Yes you do, I know you do. My beautiful, beautiful boy. “

With her left hand Alice held Arthur closely to her chest, and with her right she stroked him from his head all the way down his body and tail. She stroked him so forcefully that she could feel his spine stretching underneath his cashmere-soft fur.

As she continued to stroke Arthur Alice looked around her little living room. Such a cosy place and so homely. To either side of the fireplace (electric unfortunately, not real) were solid wooden bookshelves, proper fitted ones, not the cheap flimsy sort you get at Ikea. Each shelf was four feet wide, about eight inches deep, and there were six of them in each unit. Nearly every shelf was lined with beautiful porcelain lidded pots, in many different colours and patterns. The shelves mostly carried between three and six pots, a couple still had a few books on them " still plenty of room left for a number of pots.

Alice could feel Arthur’s heartbeat slowing down. He was becoming very relaxed with the stroking. Her own breathing slowed and she listened: he had started to purr. This always happened toward the end. They could sense that it was good, that there was nothing to be afraid of, that they were loved absolutely by Alice. Arthur’s head was on Alice’s breast, her left arm surrounding his body and her left hand holding him tightly from the underside of his neck. She moved this hand further down so that it was on his chest, and replaced it with her right hand. Tears formed in her eyes as she began to squeeze.

“Arthur baby, I love you so much, I’m going to miss you...! My poor darling! I’m sorry you have to go!”

Arthur stopped purring as the pressure grew around his neck, but he never struggled. His heartbeat increased, and his eyes grew wide as Alice squeezed ever harder. She was sobbing so much that she could hardly see his little face looking at her through her curtain of tears. He jerked a little, sighed, and then he was gone, his body limp in Alice’s arms.

Alice sobbed, oh how she sobbed. She continued to stroke the black and white corpse and to kiss the soft fur on its head. How she loved her cats. She sat there like that with Arthur for half an hour before the tears stopped. When they did, she looked down to see her other babies sitting at her feet watching the scene. They always did this, every single time. Cats are so knowing. She stood up, careful to hold onto Arthur, then went to her room where she laid him on her bed, next to where her feet would be later. He would stay there till morning, at which point she would wash and dry him, make him look nice.

She’d go to Wandsworth crematorium this time, she hadn’t been to that one for a while, and she made a point of rotating crematoria because she didn’t want to go to the same one too often. It would look weird. No need to buy a new urn either, because she already had the perfect specimen for Arthur at the back of her wardrobe. She’d spotted it in Chinatown the previous month, dark red with yellow dragons, all hand painted according to the man in the shop. Matching lid. Lovely. Fitting in the crematorium meant that Saturday was a write-off, really, but on Sunday she’d get the train down to Queenstown Road to take a look at Battersea Dogs and Cats Home, to see what had come in over the last week. If she was lucky she might even come home with a new cat. Who knew? With this thought in mind Alice was able to drift gently and happily to sleep. She dreamt well that night.