My Very First Doorstep Cat
Rachel Wells shares the story of Tigger, the first doorstep cat she met. An incredibly clever tabby, who definitely knew what he was doing!
When I came up with the idea for Alfie - which I have talked about at length so bear with me if I repeat myself - I was inspired by a mixture of the cats I have had throughout my life. I was born with a family cat already installed and can’t remember a time when we were without one.
I truly believe that cats are incredibly clever as anyone who has read my book ALFIE THE DOORSTEP CAT will know. The first ever doorstep cat that I met definitely knew what he was doing!
I was seven years old and we lived near a farm. One evening I noticed a gorgeous tabby kitten sitting on the windowsill outside our living room. I went out to see him; he was very friendly, letting me fuss him and I delighted in cuddling him. I asked my mum if we could give him some milk and she agreed but she said she was sure he was a farm cat. So, while I watched him drink his milk, my mum phoned the farm and the farmer’s wife confirmed he belonged to them.
My mother, being very kind, dropped the cat down to the farm. However, he didn’t live in a house but in a barn. He was a working cat, not a domestic one, one of a litter of kittens born to help their mother keep the mice and anything else at bay. He was supposed to be a nice feral cat who kept the mice population under control - not unlike Dustbin in my books.
However, this cat was definitely not like Dustbin. He visited a few of my neighbours and they all said the same thing; he was going from house to house, anywhere but the barn where he was supposed to be. As he continued to visit I grew very fond of him and I got upset when my mother would - yet again - take him back to the farm.
Day after day the cat was back on the windowsill and this pattern continued. He would sit staring longingly into the house and I would stare longingly back. Then I’d go outside and play with him. I got to know him better in that time, I actually fussed over him a lot and he was a real softy. I soon realised he didn’t want to live in a barn catching mice, he wanted to live with me and be pampered. I just had to convince my parents and the farmer of this.
As mum took him back to the barn again and again, I tried to persuade her and my father that he belonged with me. They weren’t convinced and my mum wasn’t sure that the farm would even give him up, but I was pretty sure he and I were destined to be together. I was determined and there was no way that the cat and I weren’t going to be together.
I even named him Tigger - my favourite character from Winnie the Pooh - and cried and whined and cajoled my parents until they were utterly fed up with me. When ‘Tigger’ came back yet again - he was as determined as me - my mum finally gave in and phoned the farmer’s wife again. After much persuasion she agreed that we could keep him and Tigger became my cat.
Or more accurately, I became his human.
Tigger lived with me for years, actually I moved out before him as I left to go to university. He was about twenty when we lost him. In all that time, although he hunted a bit and occasionally, remembering his roots brought a mice or bird home, he was a very sweet, domestic cat, who loved his cuddles and loved being at home. I will always remember that little face of his as he sat on our windowsill and I am sure that he knew exactly how to get what he wanted. But then again… so did I…
RIP Tigger and thank you for inspiring Alfie.
I’d love to hear your stories about the impact a doorstep cat has made on your life. Please share in the comments section below.
What a wonderful story I really enjoyed reading.x😽🐈⬛