Timba Comes Home (20 page)

I jumped onto the sofa, my fur and paws soaking wet. Did Vati even know it was snowing? Why wasn’t he sitting in the window watching? I was overjoyed to see my brother again, and happy to
be in the warm house which had once been my home. I wanted to give Vati lots of love and healing, so I immediately set about licking him, rubbing cheeks and purring. He didn’t respond.

‘I’m here now,’ I said. ‘I’ll take care of you.’ Telling him about my long journey didn’t seem appropriate. Vati was traumatised, and maybe I was the
only person who could bring him out of it. Words were pretty useless, so I purred and made a fuss of Vati. He lay there unmoving, like a china cat. I looked at his eyes, and they had a flat frowny
line over the top lids. In the end I lay down and leaned against him, wrapping my tail round his back and letting my loud purr fill both our bodies.

Vati did look at me then, hesitantly, as if he didn’t dare to move. Then a chubby little girl toddled into the room. She squealed with delight when she saw me, and ran to stroke me.
‘Big new pussy cat!’ she called, and Lisa appeared from the kitchen.

She gasped when she saw me on the sofa with Vati. ‘Don’t touch him, Heidi,’ she snapped and pulled the little girl away. Then she screamed at me. ‘GET OUT, you smelly old
cat!’

Astonished, I looked at her and purred. I even gave her a cat smile. But she went berserk, picked up a newspaper and swiped me as if I was a wasp. ‘Get OUT!’ she screamed.
‘OUT. . .!’

I didn’t move, but I was shocked at being hit like that. Surely she hadn’t meant it. Had she?

She shrieked for Graham. ‘There’s a dreadful smelly old cat on the sofa, and it won’t move.’

I assumed Graham would come in and be pleased to see me. We’d been buddies, I thought proudly.

‘Sorry, love. I’m late now and it’s snowing. I’ve got to go,’ he called from the hall. ‘You deal with it. See you later. Bye.’

‘MEN,’ said Lisa angrily. ‘NO, Heidi . . . leave the cat alone. You are not to touch it. NO.’

Heidi began to cry like Leroy, and Lisa picked up the screaming child and dumped her in a round playpen in the kitchen. When she came back she had a broom in her hand.

‘OUT,’ she insisted and tried to sweep me off the sofa! I was appalled, and a bit frightened. I wasn’t going to leave Vati now that I’d travelled so many miles to find
him. I crouched against the back of the sofa, shut my eyes, and clung on with my claws.

‘You’re wet and disgusting. WILL YOU GO OUT!’ Lisa screamed. ‘I don’t want you here. Have you got that, you stinking old feral cat? I don’t want
you.’

Vati didn’t move. He seemed resigned to this sort of behaviour. I looked steadily at Lisa’s eyes and saw that she was afraid to pick me up or touch me. She was making a pantomime
with a broom to scare me out.

I stayed put, and felt a glimmer of something resembling gratitude from Vati. He needed me. I had come to be his support cat. I radiated that thought to Lisa, and when she found I wasn’t
going to let her chase me out, she gave up and threw the broom against the wall. ‘You wait till Graham gets home,’ she warned. ‘He’ll deal with you,’ and she took
Heidi upstairs.

Meanwhile, Vati had gone back into his shell. The moment of response I’d worked so hard for had been crushed by Lisa’s hysteria. I’d have to start all over again, coaxing and
encouraging my frozen brother.

First I needed to eat, so I headed for the kitchen where I found a cat dish with the dreaded dried food in it. So boring. I needed something succulent and sustaining, so I picked at the fridge
door with both paws, pulling and pulling until it swung open. I stood there, sniffing the cornucopia of delicious smells. I pulled out a slab of cheese, but it was tightly sealed in plastic, so I
left it on the floor for later. Standing up on my hind legs I inspected the next shelf, and pulled at some tin foil with my teeth. It floated, crackling, to the floor. Under it was a plate of
cooked chicken. WOW! I meowed at Vati, but he still sat there like a china cat.

I pulled some chunks out onto the floor, and tucked into the best meal I’d had for months. I ate until I was satisfied, then picked up a really choice piece of chicken and carried it
through to Vati. A fleeting look of surprise passed through his eyes. He sniffed the chicken, and gave it a lick. Then he pushed it away with his nose. It fell on the carpet and he resumed his
frozen cat pose.

I felt like swiping him.

Instead, I sat beside him, washing and purring. Then I wrapped myself around him and drifted into sleep, warm and comfortable for the first time since leaving my home with Angie and Leroy. The
north wind was blowing snow against the windows, and Graham’s mother’s clock still ticked and chimed. I could hear the beat of my heart and the anxious beat of Vati’s. We’d
always slept intertwined. Now it was me doing the twining, and Vati sitting there like a stone.

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.’