Timba Comes Home (17 page)

The Spirit Lion’s last words were a hollow whisper echoing in my soul. ‘I can’t say it,’ he breathed, and the hush of cosmic sadness descended from the morning sky. The
birds fell silent. The air was becalmed, and the beads of dew on the gossamer lost their sparkle. Leaves fell like tears from the ash tree.

The Spirit Lion breathed in deeply. ‘I can’t say it,’ he said again. ‘It is universal. A happening, a terrible happening that is seeding fear in cats . . . all over the
Earth . . . all . . . over . . .’ he whispered, and the sadness eclipsed his shining light. In seconds he was gone.

I sat there, numb and shocked, watching a bank of white mist stealing in from the valley, as if the energy of the Spirit Lion had been dissolved and was floating away, shape-shifting, becoming a
cloud billowing over the bright sun.

My Spirit Lion had gone . . . not joyfully . . . but immersed in sadness. There was something out there he couldn’t bear to talk about. He’d given me his love, and his wisdom. Now
he’d left me. Once again, at my time of greatest need, I was alone.

The mist settled like a fleece over the fields, hiding the landscape from me when I needed to see it. I wanted to work out which way to go. I tried to talk to Vati, to tell him I was on my way
to rescue him, but all I saw was the black of his eyes, and the stillness of his crouched body. For some reason Vati was not moving, and not communicating. Alive, but closed down. Unresponsive,
unmotivated, numb.

What had happened to this beautiful, creative little cat?

I knew in my bones that, if I didn’t get to him soon, Vati would will himself to die.

The Spirit Lion told me not to run without thinking first, but I pushed on relentlessly, driven by the pain in Vati’s eyes and the urgency of his need. I didn’t
think of the distance that separated us, but focused on one day at a time. I ran along the hedges, parallel to the road. Flocks of birds flew ahead of me, feeding on scarlet berries that bobbed in
the branches above. I felt like an impostor. The magpies and crows cursed me in their raucous voices, and the blackbirds warned each other about me. No one wanted a fluffy black cat in the
countryside. For a cat who was used to lots of love and attention, it felt bleak and lonely.

Late afternoon was the time when foxes emerged from their holes, hungry, full of energy. I was wary of them, but quickly found I could outstare an interested fox, or outsmart it by climbing a
tree. But after several encounters, my wariness mushroomed into fear. A fox could kill me if it caught me off guard, or sleeping.

As I drew near to the forest, another creature scared me: a buzzard that flew out of the trees with wings like giant hands. Its cry haunted me because it resembled a cat meowing, and it swooped
low and flexed its powerful wings above me so that I felt the rush of air from its feathers, and saw the talons and the cruel yellow eyes. And there were always two buzzards, hunting together,
watching for movement in the grass.

Tension began to build in my mind, tiring me, not allowing me the rest I needed.

Towards evening the mist cleared and the sun hung low and bright, like a peach on fire. On the opposite side of the sky the moon was rising, and it was pink. I hurried on, up a hill, heading
south between sun and moon. Aching tiredness slowed me down to a steady trot, my eyes fixed on the luminous sky at the crest of the hill. Would the hill never end?

Twilight was falling as I reached the top, and the cool colours of night stained the brim of the sky. Exhausted, I lay down under a pine tree, glad of its soft carpet of needles and moss. A
perfect bed for a cat who needed to watch the stars and study the distant landscape.

All I needed was a plate of mashed chicken with gravy. Even if there had been a handy mouse, I was too tired to catch one. I slept and slept, my paws twitching as I crossed roads in my
nightmare. Hunger gnawed at my dreams, and my tummy felt weak and empty. Nothing else disturbed me, and as usual I awoke at midnight. The moon was far away in the southern sky. Silent and pale, an
owl passed by on muffled wings. It turned a heart-shaped face and checked me out with intelligent eyes. I looked back, proudly, unafraid of this creature of the night who had once terrorised
me.

The owl turned in a wide arc and returned to check me out again. I thought of Vati and the way he had a mysterious rapport with wild creatures. How he’d searched their minds, and seen the
good in them, the hunger, and the fun.

As the owl swooped by for a third time, I sent him a telepathic message. ‘I’m Timba, and I’m on a long journey to find my brother Vati . . . because I love him.’ I saw
the message arrive like a spark of understanding in the owl’s black eyes. I watched him hover over a tangle of grasses, and heard the swoosh of wing feathers when he pounced on some creature
who had dared to pop out of a hole.

The next minute the owl dived towards me, looking at me with intense eyes. It hovered above me, pale wings catching a glaze of moonlight.

There was a soft thud, and a dead mouse, ready to eat, was dropped right in front of my paws. A midnight feast, delivered with style to a starving cat!

I looked up and meowed in astonishment, and the owl gave me a permissive sort of nod, screeched, and flew away.

Between me and the forest was a vast meadow in which a herd of cattle grazed. So far I’d been running along the hedgerows, day after day, crossing the occasional lane.
Once I paused by an isolated cottage to see if it had a cat flap. The door was open and I slunk over the polished stone doorstep and peeped in at a table with food on it . . . and nobody there!
Angie hadn’t allowed me on the kitchen table, but I’d never been this hungry since I was a kitten. Moving smoothly like a cloud, I glided in, grabbed a cheese sandwich and fled back to
the safety of the hedge. The butter and cheese tasted good but not the bread. Bread was bad for me, even with Marmite on it.

Tempted to hang around and become an accomplished thief, I found a sunny corner and tried to wash. I had brushed against a burdock plant and my lovely fur was matted with prickly burrs. Annoyed,
I worked at getting them out and was distressed to find I couldn’t shift them. I rolled on the floor, scratched, and tugged at my matted fur, but the burrs refused to come out and began to be
painful. Angie had never let my fur get in such a state.

Time was passing. The leaves were falling, the songbirds silent, the nights longer. Winter was coming, and I would be cold and alone. The immediate challenge was the field of cattle. They
weren’t amiable milking cows. They were hefty young bullocks, alert and interested in anything that moved. The field was enormous, and I wasn’t used to long runs. Short bursts of speed
were OK. A field that huge, with no cover, looked impossible. The bullocks might surround me, and blow their hot breath at me, and toss me in the air, or even trample on me.

So I sat outside the gate in the middle of a lemon-scented patch of wild camomile, and once the bullocks had seen me and done some snorting and stamping, they got bored and wandered away. My
only chance was to wait until they reached the far side of the field, then make a dash for it.

I had to believe that I could run that far, that fast, on tired paws at the end of the day! I waited ages for the cattle to retreat, and I was getting more and more agitated.

When the last bullock reached the far side, I made a run for it. Low and fast was how I wanted to go, but the turf was covered in thistles and cowpats, so I was jumping and dodging.

I was out in the open when I heard their roar and felt the thunder of their hooves. I ran for my life, my paws splashing through mud. The bullocks crossed the field in seconds, their tails in
the air. I was going to die, horribly, in the pungent stench of them and the mud. I tried and tried to run faster, but there was no place to hide. Bewildered, I turned and found myself surrounded
by steaming red-brown faces.

In my moment of need, Vati flashed into my mind, and I remembered the way he used his winsome little face and kinky tail to bewitch any creature who threatened him. The power of the cat! Come
on, Timba, use it!

I sat down in the middle of those red-brown faces, and scrutinised their minds. Actually they didn’t WANT to kill me. They were just having fun. If they killed me, it would be by accident,
not intention.

I was terrified, but in control. The intense power of my absolute stillness shone like a dazzling star. Stiff whiskers gleaming, my aura fierce with light, I focused on one particular bullock.
Eyeball to eyeball, we exchanged an animal rights agreement.

I, Timba, have a right to occupy my bit of Mother Earth, even if it’s smaller than your bit. I, Timba, am a cat, and cats have been here longer than cattle. You are going to end up on
someone’s plate, covered in gravy and next to a potato. Whereas I, Timba, will become an indispensable, pampered cat with supreme influence over my humans. Therefore, you will grant me free
exit from this field, at my own pace, with my tail up.

Then I did something VERY brave. I walked towards the ring-leader and kissed his outstretched nose. I visualised myself as a shining cat, my light so vivid that no one would harm me.

With deliberate slowness and calm, and with a flagrant wave of my tail, I walked away and on towards the forest. The bullocks trailed behind me, clumped together and at a respectful distance.
Keep it slow, Timba, keep it slow, I was thinking, and finally. . . finally, I was out of the field. I even turned and blinked my golden eyes, a cheeky goodbye to the bemused red-brown faces.

After that, I had no more trouble from cattle, ever again.

It’s important to have fun, even if you’re miserable, I thought as I strolled into the towering twilight of the forest. My paws were sore, my once lovely fur matted
with burrs, my heart heavy with the weight of Vati’s mysterious problem. Added to that, if I sat thinking for too long I got homesick and wanted to turn back. But I was a young cat,
bright-spirited and strong, and there was power in being totally alone in a place of magic.

Magic was everywhere in this forest. I sensed it shimmering between the leaves, teasing me with dancing patterns of light. Crisp autumn leaves floated down, twirling through the stillness, and
landed light as cheese puffs. The urge to play with them tugged at the edges of my misery until I gave in and went totally mad, diving and sliding into them, leaping high in the air, my paws
akimbo, my tail flying.

I felt brilliant. I was Timba again. My play got more and more creative. I hid behind the stout oak trunks, and leaped out, wild-eyed, my back and tail arched as I sped across the glade. Charged
by the magic, I ran into another dimension. The joy was re-creating me: I was a spirit cat being born again from the tatty remains of a tired black cat with burrs in his fur.

I felt that Vati was there with me and my playing was drawing him out to the bright margins of his darkness.

Liberated, I whirled and capered until I heard laughter. At home I loved to generate laughter. Nothing made me happier. So, who was laughing at me, here in this lonely forest?

I paused, and found myself doing exactly what the Spirit Lion had told me to do: stretching out and touching the earth with the whole of my being. And listening.

My eyes had closed from sheer exhaustion, but I was in a state of trance. The laughter was high-pitched and silvery, and it was coming from hundreds of exquisite beings of light. Their eyes
flickered as they laughed, not at me, but with me. These were beings of pure joy. Clustered high up in the trees, they too were listening to some finer, higher song from the Universe beyond.

I kept still and the tiny beings began to descend like glitter falling through the forest. They came closer and closer until I saw their colours, and felt their love cover me in a canopy of
stars. And then I slept, like a dead cat sprawled across the forest floor, and I dreamed of a straight and secret path that would lead me to Vati. The path had the softest, most luminous green
grass that healed my paws, and on either side of it rose tall plants with straight stems, growing densely and protectively together, like a guard of honour for me.

Day after day I trotted through the trees, sometimes running and leaping over clumps of plants, sometimes following narrow paths which looked promising as they wound between
ferns. There were plenty of mice and voles for me to catch, as well as starlings, who descended in twittering flocks to feed on the berries, stripping whole trees bare in one sitting. They were
easy prey as they paraded around the forest floor, driving their beaks into the ground to find worms and grubs. Mysteriously they moved as one mind, their plumage glistening with rainbows, their
wings whirring as they took off in unison, darkening the sky with their swirling clouds.

The forest had hilltop places almost touching the sky, and I was drawn to them. Each time I expected to see the shining river, and the far-off land where Vati waited for me. I wanted to see the
end of my journey. But each hilltop only gave me a view of another wooded hill, and another beyond. It was never-ending, and I started to feel downhearted. The nights were cold now and I chose to
travel in the moonlight, sleeping in the daytime when the sun warmed my fur.

One night the moon seemed to be bobbing alongside me, silver white behind the black trees. The night was a dark crystal, sharp with frost, and all I heard was the whisper of my paws trotting
through the cold. Ahead of me was a hill without trees, and the sky above it was coppery and alive with moving lights. At the top, I sat, spellbound, my tail twitching with excitement. Far away the
river shone white in the moonlight, and the long bridge sparkled orange, like a necklace of beads strung across the water. There was the taste of traffic fumes in the frosty air, the hum of cars
and lorries, their lights reflected in the water as they crossed the long bridge.

So far away . . . it both encouraged and frightened me. How could a little cat get safely across that busy bridge? I’d have to try.