If you’ve been reading my blog for some time now, you may be familiar with Boots our cat who dumped us for an old woman who lives alone. As I’ve said in the past, I don’t really blame her. The woman’s house must have been a peaceful refuge compared to our chaotic home with loony Doc and an excitable little girl.
She used to visit us every now and then as if to check if we were all alive. I’d see her from my window, I’d quickly go out the door and try to lure her back in. She would always look at me as if to say “I have a different home now. It’s nice and quiet where I live. I’m just dropping in to say hi and bye“. And then she’d be off, without a single backward glance at me.
She hasn’t done that in ages, months even. My husband and I had plans to march up to the woman’s door and demand for our cat back before we move away. But we haven’t had the chance to do that, been too busy packing. We don’t even know where that woman lives. But our neighbour does and I’ve been meaning to ask her.
Do you believe in fate? That everything happens for a reason and that when the right time comes, everything will just fall back into place like a jigsaw puzzle?
Today, I think Boots has just taught me about that mysterious word “fate”.
Little T came home running excitedly yesterday, pounding on the door, “Mum, mum! Daddy has Bootsy back!”
She came in happy and breathless, but no sign of her dad. By the time she got her breath back, he came striding in, with no less than Boots-our disappearing cat in his arms a week before we move out and move in to our new home.
Is that fate or not?
Without us having to do anything at all. No dramatic demands from us to the old woman, no tears, no exchange of words, nothing.
My husband said that he likes to walk and poke his head in the back alley near our house hoping to catch a glimpse of her. But after months and months of not seeing even her shadow, yesterday afternoon, he saw her sunning herself out. My husband and daughter called out to her and she came to them purring as if to say “Oh hello, former Humans”. Much to her dismay though, my husband picked her up and marched back home with her.
He said if cats could talk, she’d be muttering “Oh bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger” all the way home.
That’s Booty’s “Bugger, bugger, bugger” look.
I don’t think she’s happy to be back though. She’s wearing her disgruntled look again.
And this is her resigned look.
Yes, Boots is back and her timing is great (we’re keeping her in and not allowing her out again till we’re settled in our new home). We move out on the 22nd, us three, with our smelly dog and our pissed off cat, our family is whole again.
I call it “fate”.
My husband calls it “cat”.
What do you think?