Bertie was found in 2005 under the floorboards of a building where homeless people were taking shelter. He was a tiny kitten with a cleft palate, runny nose and a chest infection. Those first friends loved him but when he needed regular medication and surgery to clear his throat they had no choice but to hand him over to a charity. Giving Bertie a second chance was such an enormous act of selflessness; I only hope they were afforded the same.
I was a university lecturer in social work then, caring for my mum, who had dementia. We were a team, Mum, Bertie and I, along with Derek and Pat, the retired couple next door. We’d spend hours chatting over the fence, then I’d get the call: “Come round for tea – bring the cat!” I would tuck Bertie under one arm and Mum under the other and off we’d go. Birthdays, Christmas and every season in-between, that was us.
