I got home and I collapsed on the floor with grief. Awol came downstairs and flopped beside me, trying to comfort me.
The first time I saw Awol was on my doorstep in December 2016. He was super-cute, with black ears, a little white stripe and a fluffy white belly. I would give him a tickle behind the ear and he would rub around my legs to say hello. I had no idea where he came from.
I work shifts for a railway line and even if I got back late he would be waiting. As soon as I pulled into my street, he would follow my car, come strutting up the drive and roll over, wanting his belly tickled. I never fed him and had no intention of taking him in. I had never been a cat person. I always had dogs.
It was my friend who named him Awol. He wasn’t microchipped, so we gave him paper collars and put up posters, but no one got in touch.
He visited my house every day for three months. Every time I shut the door I could see him through the glass, staring up at me; he would meow for ages, trying to come in. It was heartbreaking. So, in March 2017, I decided to take him in.
I was slightly worried at first, because I have a cockatiel called Shitehawk. I have had him 15 years and didn’t want a Sylvester and Tweety scenario, but they got on fine. Awol was nervous initially, wandering around sniffing everything. The next minute, he was zooming around the house full pelt.
I have a three-bedroom house and live alone, so gave him free rein. He picked the spare room, but after a few weeks gravitated to sleeping in my bed. He was very vocal and liked you to know he was in the room, even at three in the morning.
I had no idea how to look after a cat. Awol was quite fussy and it took a while to find food that didn’t upset his tummy. My friend got him a litter box with a flap so he could have his privacy; once he got the hang of that we had him microchipped and flea-treated.
I took in Awol around the time my grandmother, 80, whom I called Nannan, went into hospital. The following day, after work, my mother told me to drive straight to the hospital. I knew it wasn’t good. When I got there, she was in the resuscitation room with my mum and grandad. We were all upset. She was my best friend.
I held her hand and said: “Nannan, I’ve got a cat,” and my grandad said: “What the bloody hell have you got that for?” In a strange way, it broke the tension.
I don’t know if she heard me, but I think Nannan would have liked Awol. She passed away that night. I got home and collapsed on the floor with grief; I was so upset I could barely breathe. Awol came downstairs and flopped beside me, trying to comfort me. He threw himself on me with such force that it almost stopped my tears.
Shortly after, I went to visit my other grandmother in her care home. I told her I had got a cat and took Awol in to show her, on a lead. The look on her face was priceless. A couple of months later, her brother died and then she also passed away. I lost three friends around the same time; one was expected, but the other two were a shock. At one point I went to three funerals in a week. It was horrific.
I had lost six family members and friends, one of whom I’d known since childhood, in the space of four months.
The stress became so much that I sank into a depression and couldn’t work. My hair started to fall out. Awol helped me through. He would lie beside me, purring his head off, offering his paw. It was as if he knew. He gave me the push to get out of bed – even feeding him felt like an achievement. After four months, I went back to work. Every time I got home, Awol would be sitting in the window, watching out for me. He was like my little guardian angel. My hair is growing back now and Awol has made it to the finals of Cat Protection’s National Cat awards. I nominated him and he beat hundreds of other entries to be one of three contenders in the Most Caring Cat category.
Even my grandad has taken to him. He always says: “Bloody cat!” But when he thinks no one is looking, he is fluffing Awol behind his ear. Awol gave me a reason to get up, to smile and to cope.
I really don’t know how I would have got through the past year without him.
theguardian
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