‘This kitten’s gonna be my friend. Aren’t you?’ Leroy said, and his small hands clutched me so fiercely against his heart that I squeaked in alarm and tried to escape by crawling up his sweater.
‘I said shut up. NOW. And don’t let him ruin your school jumper.’
‘But I love him. I do, Mum.’ Two gleaming tears ran down Leroy’s cheeks and dripped onto my fur. ‘Tell her, Miss.’
Angie sat down at the table, bringing her head level with Leroy’s defiant stare.
‘Then try not to squeeze him like that, Leroy. He’s fragile,’ she said tenderly. ‘His little bones are like matchsticks. Let me hold him for a minute, please.’
Leroy clutched me tighter then, so tight I could hardly breathe.
‘You can have him back,’ Angie said, her eyes looking directly into his. ‘I just want to give him a goodbye cuddle. He’s so sweet.’
To be picked up by Angie was heaven for me. I snuggled into her cushiony chest, and listened for the heartbeat, steady and strong under the ruffled blouse she wore. Home. This was home. I couldn’t believe she was letting me go like this … to Leroy McArthur! I gave her a meaningful stare, and began to purr for her. ‘I want to be YOUR cat,’ I was telling her. ‘I belong with you.’
‘He’s purring. Listen.’
Leroy brought his head close, and a magical smile lit up his face.
‘What about his name, Leroy?’ Angie asked. ‘Are you going to give him a name?’
Leroy’s eyes roamed around the classroom and focused on a poster behind the teacher’s desk. He pointed, so I looked, curious to see what name he was going to give me. And there, unexpectedly, was a picture of the face of a White Lion. The moment exploded into magic. My neck got longer and longer as I stared at the Lion’s serious eyes. Was it MY Lion?
Leroy turned, beaming, and shouted out,‘Timba!’ Then he reached to stroke me – this time gently – and he looked right into my eyes. ‘Hello, Timba.’
‘That’s a brilliant name, Leroy,’ said Angie.
‘Timmy will do for me,’ said Janine. ‘We don’t want nothing fancy.’
‘No, Mum. TIMBA,’ insisted Leroy, his eyes round and his voice husky with passion. ‘It’s cos of the White Lions of Timbavati. They came to save the world. Miss told us about them.’
Then Leroy added something amazing.‘And if he had a brother, Miss, I’d call him Vati.’
I thought about my brother. Vati: that’s what his name would be. Timba and Vati. Two black kittens against the world. I remembered Vati’s poetic little face, his sensitivity and the way he had always stayed so adoringly close to me. Right then I wanted him so much.
‘That’s a very clever idea, Leroy,’ Angie said. ‘I like that.’
I was falling asleep in Angie’s comforting hands. Please keep me, I dreamed. I don’t want to be Leroy McArthur’s cat and live on scraps and get squeezed and mauled around.
Those few moments with Angie were precious. I was only a kitten, but I stared into her eyes with the mind of an adult cat who had lived many lives with her. I was searching for reasons why she needed me now. What was causing the stress? Why did I feel this beautiful, loving young woman was hiding so much sadness? I saw the burden of too much caring weighing her down, stealing her happiness. Angie was trying too hard to love. She wasn’t looking after herself. She definitely needed a cat. Me!
Perhaps if I’d stayed awake, there might have been a way of escaping, but I was so tired, and the last thing I heard was Angie’s voice saying, ‘Baby kittens need to sleep a lot, Leroy. You mustn’t try to wake him up.
‘Now you must promise me you will look after Timba and be kind to him. He needs small regular meals, and a litter tray, and a quiet home where he feels safe … Are you listening, Leroy?’
‘Yes, Miss.’
‘And he’s got to go to the vet and have his injections against cat flu. I’ll give you the name of this website about caring for kittens. It’s—’
‘We don’t have a computer,’ said Janine.
‘Right. OK.’ Angie looked thoughtful. She carried me over to the book corner. ‘There should be a book here about cat care.’
‘That’s no good. He can’t read,’ said Janine, and Leroy hung his head and looked ashamed.
‘But you can,’ said Angie, pulling out a slim book with a cat on the front. ‘And Leroy can read now, with a bit of help.’
‘I don’t have time for that,’ Janine said and she pushed the book back across the table. ‘I’m not stupid, you know. I know how to look after a cat. It’s not rocket science, is it?’
In my dream Vati was calling and calling for me. He told me an incredible story. The dog, Harriet, hadn’t hurt him or my tabby-and-white sister but carried them into a cottage where a kind old lady had looked after them and given them kitty milk on a saucer. Then he and my sister had gone to sleep WITH THE DOG! Today they’d both been delivered to a cat sanctuary, and a lady with a painted face had chosen my sister and taken her away. Vati was all alone, like me, and in the dream we established a telepathic link to keep us in touch. We’d always been close and needed each other, but now we were separated our need had become an intense ache in both our souls.