Mabel

Mabel is our cat. She's not much of a family cat, she's certainly not a lap cat, in fact she goes for long periods when she'll disappear all together.  I don't worry. She's a survivor.  She was a rescue cat, I got her from Battersea when I was living alone in a flat in South London. My upstairs neighbours said we had mice so I volunteered to get a cat.

Mabel

She grew to like me, in her own way. She never sat on my lap but she did sit next to me and purr loudly. My aunt came to visit and commented that Mabel must have thought she'd died and gone to heaven. She slept on my bed all day and slept on my pillow all night. I had to wear ear plugs the purring was so loud.


Mabel and I muddled along together. I would worry about going away at weekends, about being out late at night in case she missed me.  I was very attached to my cat.

Then him indoors came along, she was unsure at first but eventually she gave in and grew to like him too.  Actually she occasionally sat on his lap which made me happy but also jealous. Then we moved house and I thought that I'd lost her for an hour or so. I ran around the street calling her, feeling not a bit stupid shouting 'Mabel' in a high pitched voice while the local hoodies all laughed at me.  I called him indoors who was away in Philadelphia seeing the Kings of Leon (the weekend we moved, nice). He sounded concerned but vaguely confused "I'm the other side of the Atlantic, not a lot I can do, but I'm sure she's okay."

She was fine of course, she'd hidden behind the bed in the spare room.  She was terrified of the change.  But we all settled in our new home.  Mabel made some friends with the neighbourhood cats.  She hung out in the hood.  Life was good.

Then along came Eliza.

Mabel was disconcerted by this small person who cried, then laughed, then crawled, then toddled but always took all my attention.  We still saw Mabel in the evenings when the living room was a safe zone, child-free.  She got used to it.

Then along came Tilly.

The temerity of me.  To have not one but two children, two babies who needed all my attention.  They say the man feels de-prioritised when babies come along, but what about the cat? How must they feel?  Mabel was frankly, lucky to be fed.

As the girls have got bigger they have become more interested in Mabel.  They even see her every now and then. Not often though because Mabel likes to keep herself to herself.  She rarely comes and sits with us in the evenings, occasionally if it's snowing she might, but mostly she's out on the tiles.  But I love her, she's my cat. She's knocking on a bit now, got to be about 20 by now.

Eliza and Tilly regularly go outside to look for her.  I hear them shouting "Maaaaybeeeelll" at the tops of their little voices.  Then they see her and run to her wanting to stroke and cuddle and she turns on her paws and does a runner.

So it's not surprising that tonight Eliza and I had this conversation:

"Mummy, one day can we please get a proper cat?"

"What's wrong with Mabel?" Clearly I know what's wrong but I have a certain loyalty towards her.

"She's not a proper cat is she Mummy?  She's a scare-dy cat. Me and Tilly want a cat we can cuddle."

I can't argue with that really, it's what children want.  Maybe one day.