Better Than Family: The Chosen Bonds That Shape Our Lives

Oh, Julia, if youve got money you cant spend, youd better help your brother. Its absurd! Twelve thousand for food! shouted her mother.

Julia set her glass on the table, lips pressed tight. The relatives kept pestering her until shed had enough of everything no birthday celebrations, no chatting with them.

Margaret, stop making the girl starve herself, her father tried to intervene. Are we celebrating something today or what?

Yeah, a celebration, snapped her mother. And then my grandkids will be shunted off to a cramped council flat with the neighbours drunkards, while I keep praying nothing terrible happens to them. If you, Julia, gave that twelve thousand to Ian, he could rent a proper flat, not a single room! Your cats could survive on plain food, no fancy tea needed.

Mum, Julia protested, I took those cats in myself because I wanted them. Im responsible for them. And Ians a grownup, thirtyfive now. He should look after himself and his family, which he started deliberately.

Grownup Ian scowled, flopped back on the sofa and turned away dramatically.

And your family too! Margaret raised her voice. Your brother, your nephews! As for stray cats, pick any you like. Weve fed our own with porridge and tins all our lives and got away with it. You treat yours like children! Fine, if you dont want to have your own kids, go ahead and rot away in old age. But you cant pamper your cats while the real nephews only see sweets on holidays!

Julias patience snapped. Years of being brushed aside, ignored, her feelings discounted all burst out with tears streaking her cheeks.

Cats are better than families, she blurted. They love me for nothing, never demand anything. And theyll never chide me for wanting my own life.

She could take no more. Whipping around, Julia bolted to the bedroom and slammed the door with all her might.

Well see how they love you when you stop buying them trinkets! her mother called after her. The worlds gone mad. Some cats now cost more than parents

Margaret kept yammering, but Julia tried not to hear. She collapsed onto the bed, buried her head under a pillow, drowning out the complaints. Her brother merely shrugged, letting her mothers words roll over him like artillery, then hid behind her skirt the same old routine.

Julias childhood memories were a wash of vague impressions, as if someone had erased the painful bits. She did, however, recall her fifth birthday, when Margaret baked a raspberry cake because Ian begged for it, despite Julias wish for a chocolate one with candles.

To my dearest man the biggest slice! Margaret grinned, then glanced at Julia with a less enthusiastic sparkle. Youll get a smaller piece. Girls need to watch their figure from a young age.

Nothing dramatic, but Ian always got the best: toys, trips, gifts, and especially attention. Margaret looked at him with adoration, hope, soft admiration. Julia felt more like an afterthought attached to her brother.

Victor, their father, would sigh in moments like this, perhaps offer a tired retort, but usually kept his mouth shut. He clung to the oldfashioned idea that a womans place was at home with the kids, while a man should earn the bread.

When Julia grew older, she spent most summers at the cottage with her mother. Ian, meanwhile, roamed about with his mates. When Margaret asked him for a hand a rare request he brushed her off with a headache excuse. Julias help around the house excuse didnt fly. She was expected to tidy up while Ian handled the mens business.

Occasionally Victor tried to intervene in the upbringing, but his timing was hopelessly late.

Julia, are you trying to raise a domestic invalid? he whispered to Margaret when they were alone. Stop coddling him! A decent bloke should be able to wash his socks, tuck his bed, and cook at least for himself.

Oh really? I dont see you doing any of that, Margaret shot back. Let the lad live comfortably while hes with us. Hell have plenty of time to learn later.

And then what? He wont learn a thing on a snap of the fingers!

His wife will have to.

And if she refuses to treat a grownup man like a child?

Then we dont need her. Well look for someone normal.

The normal one showed up far too quickly. Julia wasnt even sixteen when Ian brought home a girl with wide, naïve eyes. At first she stayed for evenings, then nights, and eventually moved in for good.

Julia learned of the forever plan when Margaret tried to break the news.

Darling, dont be angry, Margaret began without preamble, but the young folk need their space. Youll be sharing Ians room for a while, and he and Alice will move in next to you.

Julia loathed the arrangement. Her room was her sanctuary books, posters, a little peace. It was being stripped away. Ians room was spacious but shared, leaving no privacy.

Mum, but thats my room. Im used to it

Technically its not just yours; its ours yours and dads in the flat we share with Ian. Youre just using it temporarily. Dont dramatise. Theres a bed, a desk, what more do you need?

Julia was speechless for a few seconds. From the outside it might have sounded reasonable, but those words felt like a declaration that she owned nothing there, not even a nook to hide.

Julia, dont touch the child, Victor interjected. Let the young ones live as they will, or move out if theyre unhappy. Theyll save up for a flat faster.

You want our son to sleep on the streets? Margaret snapped. What if something happens to him? I wont forgive you!

She painted the worstcase scenarios; Victor soon capitulated. That evening Julia finally shifted her belongings to another room.

As shed feared, personal space vanished. Ian mocked her posters, Margaret tried to peek at her laptop chats, and the incoming stepsister pilfered her cosmetics without asking. Conflict after conflict, and she was always the culprit. She felt like an unwanted piece of furniture in her own house.

Soon Julia fled to her grandmothers. The old lady was oneeyed and shuffled slowly, but caring for a sweet, frail grandma felt better than being mute décor in a home that never had a place for her.

Grandma had been a veterinarian until retirement. She adored animals, always carried a bag of pet food on walks, and let no one inside her house.

I dont want anyone getting attached to me, shed say. And I dont want to get attached either. I cant even afford my own meds, let alone the responsibility of animals. If you take one in, please feed, treat, and love it, or dont take it at all.

They lived together for nearly ten years, and Julia, juggling work and studies, realised she too wanted to be a vet.

When Grandma passed away, her flat went to Julia. Live and be happy, one might think, but loneliness gnawed at her. Friends existed, but each had their own families and jobs. She craved a companion to hug when the night grew cold.

The word family now evoked trouble, not comfort. Animals were different. In her modest flat lived two cats: Benny and Rusty. Benny had been rescued after a failed euthanasia because, as a kitten, he couldnt stand on his hind legs. Julia cared for him and kept him. Rusty joined a year later, because Benny got bored being the only cat.

Unfortunately, the cats werent in perfect health. Bennys kidneys were failing; Rusty had stomach issues. Their special veterinary food was pricey, but Julia shouldered the cost. The love and purrs they returned made the expense feel trivial.

Ian, however, had a different idea.

One day he lugged a rat over to Julias flat. The kids wanted a pet, a hamster was too mainstream, and a rat seemed the cheapest. No one bothered to research care, so the rodent fell ill. As Julia tried to explain that the cage needed to be at least three times the size of the rat, a delivery man arrived with cat food.

Thatll be £1,270, he said, hauling the bags inside.

Ian raised an eyebrow, and as soon as the door shut, he whispered:

Twelve? Thats a third of my salary. Did they stuff gold in there?

Ian never saved enough for his own flat. After his first child was born, he moved with the whole family into a cramped council room, where his second son arrived later.

Its veterinary food, Julia replied calmly. And its on discount.

Ian shook his head, didnt pursue the topic, and instead gave his mother a birthday surprise that landed right on Julias own celebration.

Now Julia lay alone in quiet. The relatives had gone, and honestly she felt a strange relief. She hadnt really wanted to spend the day with them, but breaking tradition is never easy.

Benny, her first cat, seemed to sense her mood, nudged his damp nose against her cheek, and began to purr. Rusty trotted over, licking her clenched fists. Their gentle vibrations eased the tension. They couldnt speak, but in their soft murmurs Julia found the unconditional support her family never gave.

The phone rang it was Victor.

Julia, Im sorry about how things turned out he said, weary. I dont really get the whole cat thing, its not my cup of tea. But poking around in your purse isnt right either. Theyre not entirely in the wrong.

His words were like a BandAid on a sore spot. He didnt condemn her, didnt defend Margaret. Perhaps if hed been a bit more involved, none of this would have happened. Still, Julia felt grateful for his effort.

Later, another call came. It was Katie, her best mate.

Happy birthday, you old thing! Howd you celebrate?

Silence answered, followed by a strained Thanks, its fine. Katie knew her friend well enough to read between the lines.

Dont melt down. Ill be there in an hour, Katie said, hanging up before any objections.

An hour later the flat turned into chaos. Benny and Rusty dove under the bed in terror as Katie, her husband Anton, and two other friends burst in shouting Happy Birthday! armed with pizza boxes, wine bottles, and, best of all, a massive, multilevel cat tree.

For your furry friends, so they dont get bored, Katie declared.

The party felt more like a draft of a comedy sketch than a proper family gathering far removed, delightfully insignificant. The real thing was the noise, the laughter, the hugs, the ridiculous toasts. Those people saved her birthday. They accepted her exactly as she was, unlike blood relatives.

The guests lingered long after midnight. Katie stayed to help clear up.

So? Feel better? she asked softly.

Julia managed a smile.

Much better. Thank you. Youre the best.

Benny dozed on a cushion under the table, Rusty perched on a chair. The new cat tree dominated the lounge. Katie, who had to be at work the next day, washed dishes alongside her.

In that moment Julia realised that family is indeed important and lovely when youre lucky enough to have one. She hadnt been. And that was fine. Because if the family youre born into doesnt work, you can always build your own: the kind that purrs in your ear when you cry, the kind that bursts through your door at three in the morning, knowing youre down. That sort of family is sturdier than any blood tie, bound not by duty or guilt, but by genuine love.