But as I reached the summit, my angel swirled past me with a whoosh of her wings. Shocked, I watched her disappear, her colours shimmering as she dissolved and became one with the landscapes of Planet Earth. I couldn’t stop now. I was racing, sliding down the other side of the rainbow bridge; it took my breath away; even though I knew how it would happen, I was still terrified.
I didn’t want my fabulous spirit to be put inside a tiny wriggling earth kitten. I wanted to go back and be the Queen of Cats for ever. But it was too late. Being born was such a let-down. I should have been loved – and I wasn’t!
I was born under someone’s bed, right next to a smelly pair of slippers. And my mother didn’t like me. The minute I was born, she gave me a draconian swipe with her paw, knocking my small wet head sideways. I was blind, but I sensed her anger as I struggled to breathe. She was blaming me for getting stuck and causing her pain. Weak and shocked, I lay there on my own, getting colder and colder.
A man’s voice made me jump.
‘Ellen!’ he was shouting. ‘Guess what THAT CAT’S DONE NOW!’
‘What?’
‘She’s had a bunch of kittens under the bed.’
‘Oh, Jessica!’
Ellen’s voice was lovely. I heard her come and look under the bed. ‘Oh, the little darlings,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t be cross with her, Joe. We can take them downstairs in a basket. Aw, look at them feeding. Aren’t you a clever girl, Jessica?’
I was cold and starving so I squeaked and squeaked until Ellen noticed me, and I felt her hand round me.
‘What about this one, Jessica?’ She put me down close to my two purring guzzling brothers, and gently pushed my face into my mother’s fur. ‘No, don’t growl at her, Jessica. She’s beautiful. Silver tabby with long fur and she’s got pink paws like you. Come on, you’ve got to feed her.’
I found a nipple and sucked like mad until the warm sweet milk filled my mouth and mother finally relaxed and let me have it while Ellen stayed close, encouraging her. I got the feeling that Jessica was rebellious but she would do anything for Ellen. So I was fed. But Jessica never liked me. She always left me until last, lavishing attention on my two brothers, and she would bop me when Ellen wasn’t there. Twice we were put in a nice basket and carried downstairs, and both times Jessica carried us back, one by one, holding us by the scruff. When it was my turn, she wasn’t careful. She banged me all up the stairs.
On that day, before our eyes were open, there was a lot of shouting and crying in the house, and we all lay there shivering, cuddling close and wondering what was going to happen. What kind of home had we come into so trustingly?
At the end of the day, I heard this amazing loud purring, and sensed a huge male cat very close, looking at us, sniffing us. He was loving and kind, I knew that, but my mother still growled at him until he backed off. Once our eyes were open, I saw him. He was black with a white chest and paws, long white whiskers and concerned peagreen eyes. His aura was massive and shining. My dad! Solomon.
I settled down, thinking I had decent parents and a warm safe home, even if there was a lot of shouting. The three of us grew up under the bed, learning to crawl, to put our tails up and to play. We got used to Ellen and her little boy, John, picking us up. In fact, we loved it. They were so warm and kind and stroked our fur and talked to us.
Until one terrible day that I will never forget.
We were four weeks old and just learning to lap Kitty Milk from a dish. Jessica was a strict mother. She bopped us if we put our feet in it, and she diligently kept us immaculate, always leaving me until last. Sometimes our dad Solomon would come and wash me, and purr with me and tell me stuff by telepathy.
On that day, the house shook like thunder, and two strange men plodded in and out, moving furniture, sliding and scraping and bumping it down the stairs. Then Joe came in with a basket in his hand. He put it down on the bedroom floor and reached under the bed where we were cuddled together against our mother’s warm body.
‘Sorry about this, Jessica,’ he said, and picked us up one by one with his big hand and dumped us inside the basket. I saw my mother’s anxious eyes as she came after us, and that was the last time I ever saw her dear black and white face. She cried and cried as Joe clipped the basket shut. He slammed the bedroom door and we heard Jessica’s echoing wail of despair, and her paws scrabbling to get out.
We huddled together and clung on with our tiny paws as he bounded down the stairs swinging the basket.
‘There’s nothing to cry about,’ he said to Ellen and John, ‘so stop your snivelling. We’ve got more to worry about than a bunch of kittens.’