“— We’re terribly sorry, — began one of the officers. — But this lady claims that your cat jumped onto her balcony, attacked her, and then made off with her kitten…”

Sorry to bother you, began one of the policemen, but this lady claims your cat leapt onto her balcony, attacked her, and then kidnapped her kitten

You know how there are those corner flats that you see sometimes? Two blocks joined at a perfect right angle, with the balconies nearly touching right at the cornerbarely five feet apart.

Anyway

My wife and I, both living on the fifth floor of a London block, were walking home together after another long day at work. We worked in the same office and always took our trusty old Ford Focus together.

As we crossed the courtyard, we saw a group of stray dogs go after a ginger tom the other tenantsus includedoften put out food for.

I chased the dogs off, but the poor cat was in a sorry statebattered and cut up. Thank goodness, nothing fatal. We scooped him up and drove straight to the vet.

The vet cleaned and stitched his wounds, hooked him up to a drip with fluids and vitamins, gave him an antibiotic jab, and told us to bring the unlucky chap in for daily checks and injections for the next week.

Thats how Winston came to live with us.

Why Winston? you might ask. Well, he had a tough, Churchillian scowllike hed just fought through half a dozen dogfights. But to our surprise

The fearsome Winston took to a cosy life remarkably quickly. In under a week he was purring on the sofa, blinking lazily as my wife stroked his head.

Look what a spoiled old rascal youve become, she laughed, scratching his tummy.

Winston flinched a littlehis wounds still hurtbut he kept purring; he really loved the attention.

He kept getting better, and soon he was glossy and well-fed, happily dozing on our laps and making himself at home.

His old street lifecold, hungry, full of scraps and fearfelt like nothing more than a bad dream.

Now hed watch the courtyard from the balcony, stretched along the rail soaking up the British sun. He had no interest in the outside world anymore; he knew what real freedom had cost him.

Neighbouring balconies meant nothing to him until one day a little kitten appeared on the next blocks balconyjust barely separated from ours.

It was tiny, fluffy, and clearly pampered.

Purebred and spoiled rotten what does he know of the world? Winston snorted, flicking his tail and turning his back on the little dandy.

But the following morning, a strange sound roused Winstons curiosity. He crept closer; the sound was coming from that very balcony.

The kitten huddled in a corner, sniffling quietly.

Oi! Winston called over. Whats all this, then? Crying because the caviar was late?

The kitten squeezed against the wall, terrified of Winstons gruff face.

Why the waterworks? Winston asked again.

In a trembling whisper, the kitten replied, She hit me with her slipper it hurts, you know?

Winston had never known that kind of pain. He was now loved, cuddled, forgiven for everything. But he still remembered pain well enough.

With a slipper? What for?

I mewed early in the morning. I was hungry

Is that all? Winston was taken aback.

She hit me and yelled, the kitten whimpered.

Winston fell silent. The tiny ball of fur was shaking, barely daring to move.

He thought of his own days on Londons cold pavementsstarving, scared stiff.

Does she hurt you often? Winston asked quietly.

Almost all the time, the kitten sobbed. For every noise or bit of mischief. She doesnt love me But on the phone, she tells her friends how much I cost. I dont know what valuable means

Winston did. But in his house, my darling meant something elsesomething tender, not boastful.

He frowned, not sure what to do. He pitied the little chap. On the streets, he wouldve sorted things out. But now

Now he was a housecatand what did you do, then?

The kitten was called back inside. His ears flattened, tail down, and in his fright, he wet himself on the spot before scampering indoors.

Winston just stared at the puddle, remembering how, as a small stray, hed once done the same in terror of a big dog.

Since then, Winston spent most of his time on the balcony, keeping an eye on his sad little neighbourcuriously named Sterling.

In Winstons view, Scrawny would have fit better.

But Sterling soon trusted Winston, coming over to the balcony whenever he could to complain:

She said today, he sniffed, that if I dont stop making noise, shell throw me off the balcony. Shes tired of cleaning up after me

Every time, Winstons fur bristled and his claws twitched with rage.

Nearly every day he heard the shouts and swearing of Sterlings owner, and sometimes

Sometimes the sharp smack of a slipper.

Winston had made his decision days ago, but fear kept him from acting.

Theyll throw me out, he thought. No questiontheyll put me back on the streets.

He didnt want that again: the cold, the hunger, the loneliness. He owed too much to the people whod saved him.

But the idea that she might actually kill the kitten ate away at him.

A few days later, it all came to a head.

Winston sat on the balcony, listening to another round of her shouting, echoing from our neighbours bedroom.

He could see everything reflected in the glass door.

She leaned down, raised her slipper, menacing the cowering kitten.

Ill finish you off, you wretched thing!

Winston didnt even realise how hed done ithe just leapt across the gap separating the balconies.

Before she had time to hurl her slipper, she was face-to-face with

Not a cata nightmare come alive.

An enormous tom, bristling, tail-up, glaring, hissing, screeching. In her terrified eyes, Winstons jaws spat fire, his eyes shot sparks.

She shrieked, dropped the slipper, andwelllets say her pyjamas werent quite dry after that.

For her, it was no catit was the devil himself.

The devil raised a paw, claws unsheathed. She covered her head, squealedand fainted on the spot.

Ten minutes later, our doorbell rang. There stood our neighbour, dishevelled and wild-eyed.

Your cat attacked me! she wailed. He scratched me and stole my precious kitten! Im calling the police!

My dear lady, replied my wife calmly, our cat is always indoors. He never goes out. We most definitely do not have your kitten.

The neighbours face twisted. She wanted to argue, but only produced an angry hiss and stormed off, door slamming behind her.

Ten minutes on, we heard another knockthe police. Our neighbour stood with them, rambling through the details.

Apologies, said one officer, but this lady claims your cat leapt onto her balcony, assaulted her, and kidnapped her kitten

Excuse me? my wife and I blurted out together.

Our honest surprise was obvious.

Come in, officers, I said steadily. Youll see for yourselvesour Winston is asleep on the sofa. We have no kitten.

Everyone filed in. Winston lay sprawled on the couch, dozing peacefully.

Thats him! Thats the one! the neighbour shrieked. He attacked me and kidnapped my Sterling!

Pardon what did he kidnap? the police asked. Youre saying their cat stole your sterling?

For heavens sake! My kitten is called Sterling! she snapped.

The officers exchanged glances, and checked the balconies.

Nearly two metres, one commented. And youre saying their cat leapt that with a kitten in his jaws? asked the other.

You dont believe me?! she shrieked again, tearing through our flat, opening cupboards, shaking out the contents.

The officers had to firmly seat her.

Maam, said one sternly, youre damaging their property. The owners could press charges.

Me? After their monster mauled me and stole my pet?!

By the by, said the other, show us exactly where you were scratched or bitten.

The neighbour faltered, then ranted about finding justice.

Also, my wife said politely, but you do, erm, have rather a strong smell of urine Could you please stand up from my chair?

Her eyes widened. She turned bright red, then green, then deathly pale.

She shot from our flat, slamming her own door with a bang.

Shall we file a complaint? one constable asked.

No, my wife and I answered.

Shes clearly not quite herself, my wife added gently.

Sorry for the trouble, the officers said, and left.

My wife and I turned to Winston, now awake, sitting up and looking rather guilty.

So then I said.

So, Winston my wife echoed.

Winston gave us a shamefaced look, hopped down, walked to our wardrobe, hooked the door open with a paw, climbed onto the shelf, and carefully extractedthere, behind some towelsa trembling kitten.

Oh lord, we both breathed.

We sank onto the settee.

Winston padded up and softly put down the little grey ball, shivering in terror.

So what are we going to do now? my wife asked, gathering the kitten onto her lap.

Sterling quivered and shrank in on himself.

Dont be scared, little fella, I said softly.

We dont hurt cats here, my wife soothed, stroking his back. And as for you, my dear, she turned to Winston, you are in trouble. You cant behave like that. You just cant. There were surely better ways

What better way? I protested. He saved the kitten from a wicked woman. Why punish him?

And anyway, we dont have a kitten here. You heard what the police said.

Its always the same, my wife said, glancing at Sterling. Men always stick together. Next youll want to give him a medal!

Exactlya medal! I laughed. Come on, Winston, lets get you some chicken.

Oh, just look at him! my wife cried, as though seeking help from Sterling.

But, to our surprise, Sterling stretched out, gently gripped her warm hand in his tiny paws, and nuzzled in.

My wife smiled, saying with a reconciled sigh, All right just this once, youre forgiven.

I took Winston off to the kitchen for a treat, leaving Sterling curled in my wifes lap, purring softlyfor the first time, discovering that being stroked felt rather nice.

He also pondered the meaning of the word precious.

For some reason, in the tender voice of a kind Englishwoman, it really did sound different.

It strikes me nowsometimes to do the right thing, you risk your own comfort. Should I have kept Winston from helping? Im not sure. But I do know this: there are moments when being precious isnt about what you cost, but about who cares for you.