A Cat’s Accidental Discovery: How a Stray Ginger Tom Found Comfort—and a New Friend—With Rita’s Warm…

The cat stumbled upon the phone quite by accident

It was a long time ago, when Londons air still carried the quiet magic of misty evenings. A stray ginger cat, prowling the narrow lanes near Bloomsbury, happened upon a curious object half-buried in a pile of old newspapers beneath a sycamore tree. It was warmremarkably warm for something that wasnt aliveand carried the unmistakable scent of a human. With a deep, contented sigh, the cat curled himself round the gadget, embraced it with his paws, and settled atop it. To his utter surprise, with the gentlest brush of his fur, the strange device lit up at once, humming quietly beneath him.

Evelyn hadnt had the chance to truly rejoice in her new mobile yet. Even when she purchased it from that neat little shop in Oxford Street, it seemed to have a mischievous spirit: the battery grew hot almost the moment she switched it on. And, as fate would have it, she managed to lose it before the sun had set on its very first day.

It was a bitter shame. The phone had been a marvellarge screen, long-lasting battery, the very things that had enticed her. There was little use in returning to the shop now; the phone had vanished into thin air, and with it, her hopes of a refund.

Evelyn muttered at herself, Silly girl, collected her old battered pay-as-you-go mobile from her bedside table, and dialled her own number. The ring echoed in her ear, but no one picked up.

With a sigh, she poured herself a small tot of valerian tinctureher grandmothers recipe for nervessettled back on her narrow bed, and tried to retrace the days steps in her mind. Perhaps, if she retraced her journey, the device might turn up after all.

Her musings were disturbed when something vibrated beneath her pillow: a call was coming through. Her old mobile flashed up a numberher own.

“Hello! Whos there?” she said, hope fluttering.

Only scratchy sounds met her earsoft rustles, faint breaths, and then, quite clearly:

Miaow

The fright startled her. Evelyn hung up at once. Someones playing games, she huffed. Another pang of regret struckshe hadnt even thought to set a pin code, and now some prankster had possession of her phone. Her frustration was abruptly halted by another call.

Again, the same soft sighs, whispers, and a plaintive miaow in answer to her voice.

Stop calling me! she snapped, but the calls continued their relentless march.

Eventually, deciding that matters couldnt possibly get worse, Evelyn wrapped herself in her woollen scarf, slipped outside, and began retracing her steps through the dusky streets. If the perpetrator was nearby, perhaps she could spot themif she simply followed the sound whenever she rang her number.

She wandered, phone tucked in her glove, ringing her number now and then until, to her astonishment, a familiar ringtone sliced through the evening hush. Evelyn headed towards the sound, rehearsing her words for whoever dared to make sport of her misfortune.

Meanwhile, the ginger tom, having cocooned himself around this wonderfully radiant device, marvelled at how it seemed to come alive, humming and singing as he pressed his paw against its glassy face. He sniffed ithuman-scented, curiousand as the phone continued to chatter, the cat gave a polite, if slightly puzzled, reply.

The warmth was simply heavenly. In the cold, damp air, this odd contraption was a true gift. Satisfied, the cat batted it again with his paw.

Suddenly, the phone erupted in song. Startled, the cat swatted it harder in protest, but the jingling continued. He was so occupied with this musical duel that he didnt notice he was no longer alone under the tree.

Whatever stern words Evelyn had rehearsed disappeared on the spot. There, beneath the tree, was not a neer-do-well, but a bedraggled ginger tabby, tail flicking in agitation, pawing the phone with all the indignation of a cat woken from its nap.

But as soon as he saw her, the tomcat rushed over as if to an old friend. He purred, twined round Evelyns legs, stretched up to her outstretched hands. After such an onslaught of feline longing, she found herself powerless to resist. The little creature butted his head against her cheeks as though offering kisses, and as she cradled him, she realised how cold he was. No wonder hed sought solace on her overheated phone.

With the lost phone safely in her coat pocket and the ginger tom curled trustingly in her arms, Evelyn wandered homeward beneath the glow of old gas lamps, pondering the oddities of love at first sighthers for that warm, red-haired bundle. There was no way she could leave him, not now, in the chilly London dusk.

The cat, for his part, seemed beside himself with happinesstwisting and burrowing against her hands, stroking her chin and lips even as she tried to dodge his eager whiskers. He was a street cat, yes, but possessed of a gentleness that needed no home to flourish.

As it turned out, the mystery of his affection was no mystery at all. The cat was quite tipsy on the scent of valerian, which only an hour before, Evelyn had sprinkled for her own nerves.