I was standing there with a syringe in my hand. In front of me a brown cat purrs loudly. He presses himself against my hand in which I have the syringe with the lethal liquid. He tiptoes restlessly on the table. My heart is bleeding. I cannot put him to sleep. Although this is also part of my job as a vet, it is getting harder and harder for me. I will never get used to it.
I quickly think about how I can save him. He should be put to sleep because he urinates in the house. He lives in a city apartment and has started urinating in unsuitable places. When he had urinated into the family’s baby’s bed, it was too much for the family and they decided to put him to sleep.
Stina is a good friend of me and my mother who has always taken care of different “discarded” animals. Surely she would take care of him as well.
She lives beautifully in the countryside with all the dogs she has taken in. Recently, I had to put her old cat to sleep, it was heartbreaking.
Stina could hardly express her suffering, but said with a sad voice: “That was my last cat. I am too old now. The next cat would survive me, and thats not how it should be.”
I knew that if he became an outdoor cat, his urinating behaviour could change which is often related to stress in cats because they don’t feel comfortable in the house.
The conversation with Stina was – as I thought it would be – short. Stina would never say no to the possibility of saving a life, and Ozzy, that was the cat’s name, would hardly survive her, since it was already 9 years old. Ozzy was moved on the same day and brought “to the country”.
Every day when I rode past her house and stopped to chat a little she said: “Ozzy is the best cat I ever had. I am so grateful that he could come to me. He has even become a good hunter and every day he brings mice and goes for a walk with me when I go out with the dogs. A wonderful cat. The very best cat, the best friend I ever had!”
A few days later, after a very painful divorce, I mentally felt very bad. I lived in an apartment in the city, a temporary but necessary solution after a quick departure. I am not a city person, but always long for the countryside, for my horses and walks without a leash with my dog Smilla.
Suddenly, a real estate ad appears that looks familiar to me. Stina wants to sell her fantastic property with a wonderful view of the lake which is right next to my stable. I am overwhelmed by my feelings. The headland is exactly the place where I want to live for the rest of my life. That feels so right… but where should I get the money from?
The divorce is not over yet and it will end in a sad fight for my share of our home. I estimate what I can scratch together and come to the realisation that I have to sell some of my beautiful young horses and take on a loan. Then, maybe it can work.
A bad gut feeling comes over me when I ask why Stina didn’t say she wanted to sell. She could have guessed that I was interested in a purchase. I simply have to join the ranks of the bidders.
The offers go up initially and with the help of my brother with another loan I can still keep up. In the end, my bid is the highest and I can hardly believe it. But then, another provider appears. On each of my offers a higher one follows after 5 minutes. I lose my courage. I quickly understand that these providers have a lot of money and I have no chance.
I call my brother crying. My brother tries to comfort me and then I say, I have a last idea, I offer 50,000 Swedish crowns under the hand and take over the cat, then perhaps Stina lets me buy the house.
We discuss the matter. This could lead to Stina getting angry and then I have no chance anymore. Another thought is that Stina might not want to sell to me.
While I’m talking to my brother I see on the display that Stina is calling me. I ask my brother to wait. Stina asks me how I am. I cry and sob that I am sad not to be able to buy the headland because I cannot outbid the last offer.
Then, I hear how Stina’s voice hardly carries and she asks me crying, if I take the cat, I get the house! She wants him to live there with me and for me to own the headland.
So I became the owner of the world’s best cat who probably doesn’t know how he saved me and, in the end, I was allowed to become his owner in his house on the headland.
Every night he shows me his lifelong gratitude by letting me get up to open the door for him. He brings me mice into the house and arrives purring to kick my belly before he rolls up and falls asleep on me with his warmth and gift of love.
Two soul mates have found each other, one with soft paws and beautiful green cat eyes who slowly but surely healed a broken human soul with his love as only a small cat can.
Rebecka Frey
translated from German
