The Adoption

Following a long weekend of gardening, I went for an after dinner walk to try and ease my aching muscles. I was down the lane at the old railway bridge admiring the sunset when I heard a plaintive cry. A ginger cat was walking towards me mewing. It leapt up onto the parapet and began to rub its head against my arm. I stroked the cat and it began to purr. After a while I turned to go back home and the cat followed me.

I knew there were plenty of feral cats in our townland, although I hadn’t seen this one before. They always took the food I put out for them but were very wary of people. You couldn’t normally get within twenty feet of one before it would run away. The ginger cat was different, it seemed used to people.

The journey home was about three-quarters of a mile. The ginger cat trotted along with me. Often it stopped and went into the hedge or a field at the side of the road to explore a scent. I waited for it and called it to come along. It semi-ignored me, behaving a little like a dog, and only came on again when it was ready. At one point it climbed up the trunk of a tree, then backed itself down and carried on along the lane. With all these diversions it took the best part of an hour to get back to our house and it was dark when we arrived.

I opened the front door and the cat followed me into the kitchen. I gave it some cat food, which it ignored, then a bowl of milk which it drank eagerly. I refilled the bowl. The cat drank it all again. Then it started on the food and ate it all. Then it drank another bowl of milk. After four bowls of milk and three of cat food it seemed satiated and headed for the front door and out into the darkness.

The next morning the ginger cat reappeared, jumping up onto the kitchen window sill and mewing. Its hunger was somewhat abated for it only consumed two bowls of milk and two of cat food. When it finished the cat began to explore the house. We followed him as if his retinue. He sniffed around every room, then leapt onto our bed, kneaded the duvet and went to sleep.

T named him Cyril. I have no idea why. We asked around to see if anyone locally had lost a cat. Nobody had. One neighbour said they had seen a ginger cat down the lane recently. Several reckoned that someone from out of the area had driven here and abandoned him

Cyril remained asleep until the evening. Then he had another two bowls of milk and food and went out into the night. The next morning he reappeared for breakfast. But I noticed that he had left the half-eaten carcass of a mouse on the back door step and its entrails on the front door step. With these offerings the adoption was sealed.