The Real Thing 21

I had a cat. The important one, the first one, I haven’t owned a cat since actually, but I will, I am positive about it. I had a white cat. I was 12, we had just moved into a new flat, and I was surprised that my mum accepted.
Nobody liked it. And it was cool, cause he was mine only and didn’t seem to like anybody anyway. Me, I loved it, he was sleeping on my bed during the day, playing at night and eating ungratefully whatever was available. I had it for nearly 10 years, and then I moved to England for studying, and I left the cat behind, and my mum took care of it for a while. After a couple of years, she called me and said I should think about what I wanted to do with it, cause really it was mine, and she was tired of having to take care of it, arrange for somebody to come and feed him during holidays and everything. She said she had found an old woman in the country who was happy to take care of it, if I wanted to. I said it was fine by me, it seemed a good solution, it was getting old, and I looked at it a bit like a retirement home in the country. My mum took it to the women and I never saw it again.