It’s said that some people come into your life for a reason. While it’s a cliche, I’ve found the same to be true of cats, including one in particular – Chester.
This bold black and white moggy first made his presence known in the late 90s. Our beloved tabby, Holly, had recently died at the grand old age of 20, and my parents were reluctant to get another cat because it had been so sad seeing her go. Then, one day, there was a bang on the letter box. When we opened the door, there was no one to be seen apart from a big cat, who barged his way into the house.
My mum and dad were surprised, yet I (aged nine) and my sister, three years older, had put in a little legwork already. On our walks home from school, we would often spot this friendly creature, who responded well to our cuddles, strokes and general attention as well as the occasional bowl of milk we left for him.
As the months went by, Chester kept turning up at our house, knocking on the door and rushing in when we opened it. He would often be waiting for us when we arrived home and would follow us to the playground, keeping an eye on us until it was time to go home. We quickly grew to love him and the way he filled the cat-shaped hole in our lives. But he wasn’t ours – his official owner lived on the next street from us.
Yet despite us carrying him back to his real home several times, his owner eventually decided it was up to Chester where he chose to live. Much to our delight, and her heartbreak, he moved in with us and we became his new family.
Chester still loved to visit other people’s homes, often through open windows and doors. One neighbour got the fright of his life in the middle of the night when he woke up with this strange cat on his bed, while his own timid moggy sat on the windowsill outside, watching.
He was a real “six-dinner Sid”, and at some point most of our neighbours felt as if he was their pet as well. When we moved house, we didn’t know how well he would settle, given his roaming nature, but within days he had taught himself how to knock on another front door.
Chester rang true to the belief that we don’t really own our pet cats. Instead, they are little life-improving beings who, for a short stint of time, choose to live with us, if we’re lucky enough.
Our current cat, Dennis, has several of the same characteristics. He’s frequently an uninvited guest in other people’s homes and spends a lot of his time lying outside our house waiting for someone to pet him. While he has not yet mastered the letterbox knock, his miaow is loud enough for us to know he’s at the door.
