10. Apr, 2014

A home for Rosie

Rosie was born on the wild and rugged Welsh moors, a place where the weather could be cruel and unrelenting. She hunted for her meals in conditions that would make a domestic cat cringe and she knew every trick in the book. Rosie grew up to be untamed and untrusting. But she got old and sick and hunting for food became a difficult task. Her old bones ached with arthritis and her eyesight became weaker.  Winter was coming and poor Rosie knew that unless she found another place to live, she would never live to see spring.

      All through the autumn, Rosie searched for a new home. She dragged herself down from the moors and into the village. People lived in the village, people that Rosie never trusted. She watched them through blurred eyes.

      Rosie laid low during the day and hunted in the evening for her new home. Her tummy rumbled and her body ached. Soon the rain would come and what would happen to her then?

      Night after night she peeped through windows and watched people she didn’t trust.  She saw cats, real cats, just like herself, being touched and picked up, agh!!!!! Just the thought of it scared her almost to death. But they looked happy and they had food, f..o..o..d! She was so hungry and cold.

      Winter came and so did the rain. Rosie walked through the village to the very last house. It was on a small hill and looked dark and empty. She had no other choice but to shelter from the rain.

       There were no people and no sign of any cats but there was a way in.  She did what she saw other cats do and pushed at a small door in the wall. But no sooner had she entered a house for the very first time when she darted straight back out. It smelt. Oh dear it smelt! Not an awful smell, just a different smell to the wild moors and the woodlands and it was warm, like summer. 

        The rain thickened and the wind began to howl, she would try again. This time she stood for awhile in the strange room. It was dark but she prowled cautiously through the house searching and praying for food. There was none so she fell exhausted onto the warmest bed she had ever known and slept, knowing that she would never live in the wild again.

         A miracle happened! She woke up to find a bowl of milk and a dish of fresh food besides her and everyday thereafter.  All her dreams had been answered. But the dream ended when the people came back! Petrified, Rosie tried to flee her new home but her body was just too tired.

       For a long time, she watched the people and kept her distance. They spoke softly to her and left her food where no-one could see her.

       That was eight years ago and Rosie still lives at our home for waifs and strays. What a surprise when we arrived back from holiday to discover her settled in our home. Our neighbour had fed her every day. How lucky was that? She is much older now and loves to be cuddled and loved. And oh, we love her dearly.