We always love the outdoors in my family. We have had countless parties, suppers, and family time outdoors in various family gardens. Everyone also loves naps. And combining the outdoors and naps is always better.
One warm summer afternoon, my mum was doing just that – napping outside, in our garden. Mum was enjoying her nap, she was slowly waking to a lovely purring sound from her chest. Now after having Trisha for over 20 years, one is use to hearing purring … no matter how long the cat has passed away. This was after Trisha had passed away.
But of course we did not have a cat when mum heard the purring… When mum gradually opened her eyes, she saw a long black fur coat.
As she came to her scenes, she realised the long black fur coat was in fact a cat. The cat’s head was wedged into the crook of mum’s neck, sucking her skin, its paws rhythmically kneading her tender flesh on her collar-bone.
The cat was an itty bitty black alley cat, one we had never seen before, had climbed over the fence into our garden, and instead of resting on the various garden furniture or in the jungle like garden bed, he choose to sleep on my mum’s chest burying his face in her neck.
From that instant on, and for everyday that past, Spice -as the cat he came to be known- choose to be ours.
Spice was always an outdoor cat, he always came back and picked to be ours everyday, to love us and to protect me. Instantaneously he became my protector, a total tough-rock protector from the time we met, when I was 6, until his death. I always felt safe with him, even when he and I came onto a path with a Lynx. That story will be explored at a later date.