She Was Never Truly Alone: A Simple Tale of Grandma Violet, Her Loyal Dog George, and Felix the Cat with a Financial Past

She Wasnt Alone. A Simple Tale

It was a late winter morning, and the sky over London barely began to glow with dawn. Outside, the rhythmic scraping of shovels echoed from the courtyard as the council workers cleared away the snow.

The front door to the block banged open and shut as people hurried off to their trains and buses, coats buttoned up, determined not to be late.

Up on the sixth floor, Thomas the cat perched on the window ledge, his amber eyes watching the world below. In a former life, Thomas had been a banker. Money, numbers, the tick of the market that was all that had filled his thoughts.

Now, though, he grasped that there were more important things in life.

Hed come to realise nothing was as precious as a kind look, the warmth of a loving heart, and a roof above your head. Everything else would sort itself out.

Thomas glanced back into the room. On the faded floral sofa, elderly Margaret his rescuer was curled in sleep, fragile and gentle.

Quietly, he jumped down, padding softly to nestle himself above her head on the edge of the pillow, his plush, warm fur pressed gently against her white curls.

Thomas knew mornings never came easy for Margaret. Her head always seemed to ache, and he did all he could now to help.

Thomas, you little healer, she sighed, opening her eyes after a while and feeling his weight against her, Youve taken the pain away again. You marvellous thing. How do you do it?

Thomas gave his paw a brisk flick, as if to say it was nothing at all he could do much more than that, if only she knew!

Just then, a low, disgruntled grumble sounded from the hallway. That would be Max, the dog, unable to hide his jealousy.

Max had been Margarets faithful companion for years. Every time unfamiliar footsteps set foot in the corridor, hed bark robustly, ensuring the whole building knew that Margaret was well watched over.

And in that capacity, he considered himself the true master of the house.

What was he before? Thomas mused, gazing at Max. Most likely a site foreman or a copper always ready to make a fuss. But perhaps a bit of noise keeps us safe, after all.

Oh, my dears, what would I do without you? Margaret groaned softly, pulling herself up from the sofa. Come along, time for breakfast and then well go out for some fresh air.

And if the pension comes through this week, we might even get a nice roast chicken.

The mere mention of chicken caused a ripple of excitement.

Thomas kneaded the sofa with his paws, purring loudly and nudging Margarets bony, arthritic hand with his broad, intelligent head.

Oh, bless you, you clever rascal, she laughed, You understand every word.

Max gave an approving yap, as if to say he understood too, and pressed his wet nose into her knee.

Such wonderful souls you both are how much warmer this little flat seems with you in it, and how much less lonely my heart feels, thought Margaret with a gentle smile.

One day, I suppose Ill leave this world, and goodness knows whatll come next. Nobody knows for sure folk say all sorts. I reckon, if I had the chance, Id come back as a cat. Not a dog barkings a bit much for me, Ive always been quiet. But a cat? Id make a fine, affectionate cat, just so long as I could end up with kindly people.

She caught herself, tutting softly. Honestly, the nonsense that pops into your head in old age.

She didnt notice Thomas smirking silently, glancing at Max as if to say, See? Shed rather be a cat than a dog, after all.

Now, Thomas could read thoughts which wasnt a bad skill to pick up in this new life.

Such was the way of things these days.