Not a Trace of Regret
And I want this flat spotless when I get back! Mrs. Olive Parsons flew out onto the landing, the door slamming so hard behind her that the glass trembled in its frame.
Natalie, halfway down the stairs, startled and froze. Shed hoped her neighbour wouldn’t spot hersome hope. Olive had an eagles eye for everything.
Ah, Natalie Good morning!
Heaving a cardboard boxmulticooker brand still printed on the sideOlive fussed furiously with stubborn coat buttons. She was clearly in a tearing rush.
Hello, Mrs. Parsons, Natalie replied, her smile tight. Have the little ones been at it again?
Youve no idea! Im at my wits’ end,” Olive rattled off, still wrestling with the last button.
That moment, the box on the floor wobbled.
Natalie nearly leapt out of her skin, even though she was a safe distance away. She prided herself on not being one to jump at shadowsbut who on earth could be inside that box?
Her mind sketched an absurd vision of a rebellious multicooker, perhaps one that splattered half-cooked veg across the kitchen, now sent for disposala kitchen appliance set for exile.
Go on, take a look, Olive said with a sigh, hefting the box to waist height and tipping it open.
Natalie stepped onto the landing and gingerly peered inside.
Of course, she didnt truly expect a live multicooker. Nevertheless, what she saw inside stunned hera delightful surprise.
From the bottom gazed two curious eyes. A tiny kitten.
Oh, hes adorable! gasped Natalie.
You think so? grumbled Olive, shutting the box with a huff.
Where did you get him?
The kids dragged him in… I wish Id never let him stay a night. Nothing but trouble with that kittenIm lost for words. I fell for those big eyes and sweet face, but you know what they say’Not all that glitters is gold. Cute as pie outside, but his characterjust like my ex-husbands.
Give him a little time, Mrs. Parsons. Hell settle. Off to the vet, then? Jabs and all that?
Vet? No, thanks! You must be joking, Natalie. Ive had it up to here; cant stand his antics another day. Im taking him to the cottage. Let him fend for himself out there.
Natalie stared, hoping Olive was joking. But those pinched brows and that determined glare? Dead serious. And it wasnt April Foolsit was 15th November, cold and brisk.
To the cottage? In late autumn?
Am I supposed to wait for spring? Whats the difference? Winter or autumn, Id ship him out either way. Hes not a kitten hes a mistake.
Olives frustration left her breathless. After a pause to catch it, she pressed on:
You should see the mischief this one causes! Honestly, I havent drunk this much chamomile tea since raising two kids alone. My minds made up. Hes off to the cottageno appeals.
But” Natalie managed.
I could just turn him out; thats where he was found, after all. But the kids would only sneak him back and hide him in the wardrobe again. Or hed wriggle back inside. I dont need that, thanks.
Olive glanced at her phone and groaned. Youve kept me chatting, NatalieIll miss the bus at this rate!
Box in hand, she turned sharply, descending the stairs with white knuckles clutching the banister.
Natalie watched her go, astonished. How could anyone dump a tiny kitten alone at a country cottage? Hed never last a day.
Wait, Mrs. Parsons! called Natalie.
What now? I told you, I havent got time!
Dont take him off to the cottage. Let me try to find him a proper homea good one. Please, just let me take him.
Olive pausedand turned slowly.
A good home? Whats that supposed to meanmines not good enough? Olives eyes narrowed, sharp as a fox. I raised two children with these hands!
No offence meant. I just want to make sure the little ones safe. He wont survive out there.
If he wants to, he will. If not, well, wasnt meant to be. Shouldnt have been born
How can you say that?
Whys it my fault? It’s the kitten who cant behave indoors.
Hes just a baby! Hell learn! Natalies voice wobbled. You wouldnt send your children away, would you? Yet you shout at them all day.
My kids are my kids. Dont compare them to that thing! Still, if you want himtake him.
Olive plonked the box on the floor.
Suits me! Saves me the bus fare. I wonder how long youll last, she sniped, a biting grin flickering before she darted back into her flat, slamming the door. From within, Natalie heard her bellow, Excuse me! Why isnt this place spotless yet? Hand over your phones, now!
Natalie didnt hear the rest. She picked up the box carefully, checking to see the kitten was still there, and trudged up to her own flat.
Just like that, shed become the lucky owner of a box once holding a multicooker anda tiny kitten curled up inside.
She hadnt planned on a feline tenant, especially today. Shed only popped out for coffee, having run out, and stumbled into the thick of things by sheer chance.
Truth be told, Natalie was indifferent to animals. She didnt have the all-consuming love that pet owners went on about. But she couldnt let Mrs. Parsons dump the kitten at a freezing cottage.
Because indifference isnt heartlessness. Because, honestly, there was simply no need for such drastic measures when she could find someone eager for a kitten.
And a handsome little fellow like this? Hed be snapped up in no time. Of that, Natalie had no doubt.
Just a few sweet photos online, and soon her door would be knocked by a queue of would-be adopters.
Easy!
*****
Natalie didnt waste time. As soon as she reached her flat, she snapped several photos of the kitten and posted them on Free to a Good Home and Adopt a Pet forums.
Then, at last, she nipped to the shopfor the elusive coffee and kitten food (he had to eat something until adopted!).
She ended up buying a little litter tray and some litter, too. Unexpected expenses, but necessary.
Ill just give it all to whoever takes him, she thought, smiling because it felt right. Who cared about the money spent? Doing good was reward enough.
Mrs. Parsons had called the kitten Muffin but he didnt respond to it. Natalie tried out a slew of names and, eventuallyat her 132nd attemptsettled on one.
Youre Eric now, if thats all right with you, she told the kitten.
Meow! Eric replied, shooting into the hallway to wrestle with her fluffy slippersfanciful rivals for the most adorable, fluffiest thing in the flat.
Natalie laughed at the indignation: of course he, not the slippers, was top cat.
She watched him tussle in the passage, heated by this new burst of life, then gathered herself for work.
She freelanced as a photographer, taking gigs that paid well and delighted her. Today, she really needed to edit the images from her latest shoot.
She booted up her computer, fired up Photoshop, and dove in, her expression businesslike.
But focus was impossible.
As soon as Eric was done with the slippers, he zoomed about the flat, skidding into corners and making quite the racket.
Oi, you mad thing! Natalie spun round in her chair and wagged a finger.
He froze mid-pounce, eyeing her intently: Go on, say your piece. Im busy.
I get it. Youre bored and want to play. But remember, this is just temporary
Meow!
Dont argue! Youre my guest. Behave and let me finish my work, please.
Futile words.
Eric paused (though perhaps not on his behaviour), then fixed her with a guilt-inducing look so pitiable that Natalies heart sank with shame. Shame so powerful, she wished the floor would open up and swallow her.
How could anyone scold a kitten?
All right, play onbut quietly! she relented.
Eric meowed joyfully and continued dashing about, colliding with chair, wardrobe, and armchairunstoppable.
Eyes on the prize, obstacles be damnedthats Eric to a T, Natalie thought.
To drown out the chaos, she put on her headphones, put some music on, and went back to editing.
Within minutes, Eric, now a supersonic blur, darted under the desk and neatly yanked the power cord from her CPU with one paw, vanishing before she could react.
Oh, for heavens sake! she groaned, staring at the black screen.
For half an hour, both Natalie and Eric tore round the flatone fleeing, one chasing.
Eric was impossible to catch. Natalie, on the other hand, bashed her toe on a chair and knocked her knee on the armchairtwice.
Once her work was back online, she scoured the forums for replies to her photos. She was cheered by hundreds of likes, but the comments drained her optimism.
All she read were, Wow, what a cutie! Lucky you! What a darling!but no one offered to adopt Eric.
No calls, no direct messages, no queue of hopefuls at her door. The third time checking, she barely bothered.
Natalie added to each post that shed deliver the kitten herselfacross town, another city, anywhere at all.
Maybe its too much bother to travel here, but Ill go anywhere. Someones sure to answer now! she thought.
Meanwhile, Eric, tuckered out, finally leapt up onto the sofa and sprawled with his soft pink belly exposed in a classic love me as I am pose. Natalie sat beside him, gently stroking his tummy until he fell asleep. Soon, she nodded off too.
They slept away the afternoonthe days work forgotten.
*****
A week later, Natalie realised rehoming a kitten wasnt simple. People liked and commented, but nothing else happened. The phone remained silent.
Three days more, and the question gnawed at Natalie: What if no one wants Eric? Will he stay with me?
Oh, great. Just what I needed, she quipped, then scolded herself.
Eric, curled up beside her keyboard, cradling her mouse, peeked open one sleepy eye at Natalies outburst, then let out a huffy meow as if to say, Some peace and quiet, please!
Natalie sighed, thumbing through comments yet again.
Nothing newstill just gushing praise at her fortune and Erics cuteness, while her hope of finding him a home withered a bit more with every like.
She thought back to her recent visit to a therapist, searching for what her life lacked.
She had work she loved, no money worries, and even a flat of her own (thanks to her parents). Life ought to be grand.
But something always seemed missing. It wasnt romance; shed shelved her love life for a breather.
But what then?
The psychologist told her to talk to herself to root deep for the real issue, buried somewhere in her depths. That only ended in a glass of water and a headache pill.
So much for that. She turned to her friends.
I think youre just bored with too much of a good thing, offered Ellie, always a bit envious of Natalies job and flat.
Its not that, said Natalie. I work just as hard as you. Sometimes harder. Why would I complain?
Maybe, what youre missing, is…fat? mused her other friend, Molly, tucking into pudding.
Excuse me?
Not who, what! Youre too skinny. Not enough cakes as a child, Ill bet.
The heart-to-hearts solved nothing. She resolved to drop this nonsenseand yet, here it was again.
Oh, just what I need, she whispered. Or maybe it is what I need? Who knowsmaybe Eric is it.
*****
A month since Natalies flat gained its furry guestthough the days vanished in a blink.
No one claimed Eric. Natalie grew bewilderedwhy had not a single one of 1,228 people who liked his pictures wanted him?
But after thirty days, she was starting to understand.
So much had happened it could fill a novelthough a summary would suffice.
Eric, it turned out, was clever. He understood her near instantly, especially when she demanded he stop attacking her sofa.
He also toyed with new careersafter trying his paw at interior design (leading to four sets of curtains being sacrificed), Natalie simply gave up on curtains.
His second career move was as a chef, sampling absolutely everything on the kitchen table, only to spit it out in disgustpickled onions, mushrooms on toast, mashed potato. No culinary passion for this one.
He soon learned that dry food from the cupboard always hit the spot; why bother with experiments?
Thus, he settled into the classic feline rolebringing Natalie joy.
Her understanding of joy differed from his. For Natalie, it involved a good nights sleep and catching up on her photo editing.
But with a kitten in the house, peace was a distant dream. Somewhere out in the cosmos, it was decided Natalie needed to be shaken up. So along came Eric.
Whenever she lay on the sofa or sat at her desk, Eric would appear, peering at her with those big eyesReady to play?
And play he didoften with chaos that defied description.
Natalie could now sympathize with Mrs. Parsonsthough she never condoned the cottage plan. She knew she could never have abandoned Eric, no matter what he pulled.
The good outweighed the mayhem.
For one, Natalie stopped worrying about what was missing in her life. The question evaporated.
She also learned to clean at record speeds while Eric slept, making a calm, tidy flat for a few precious moments.
The positive emotions, laughs and moments of warmththe memories would last a lifetime.
As any proud parent celebrates a childs first steps, Natalie thrilled the first time Eric used his litter tray unaided. No more ferrying him, night after night, at all hours. No more 3am vigils.
That triumph she celebrated quietly, crying for joy. A couple hours more sleep felt like winning the lottery.
Of course, Eric developed new habits. He adored flicking the nightlight on and off, so Natalie eventually banished it to the cupboardright alongside the curtains. The flat was lighter, anyway.
Everything took getting used to, but Natalie adapted.
After a month, she made a remarkable discoveryit wasn’t Eric living in her home; she was a guest in his. Daytimes, she worked; he ruled. It was Eric who greeted her at the door and saw her off in the morningthe true master.
Most surprising of all, it struck Natalie one day that shed stopped looking for a good home for Eric.
She was that loving owner with the gentle hands, ready to forgive every scrape and scratch.
She was content to wake at odd hours to play tag. To watch him stretch out across her bed, somehow occupying half of it.
She was content. She had no regrets. She loved himbecause it was impossible not to.
And Eric loved her back.
Now, he never woke her at dawn. Hed simply hop up, tuck himself beside her, and wait silently for her to open her eyes.
Sometimes, in his gaze, she caught a look that said, How can you sleep so long, when I miss you so much?Natalie would blink awake, the morning sun splintering through the bare windows, and find Eric curled beside her, as soft and reassuring as a promise. Some mornings, as she lay stroking his fur and feeling his faint purr hum beneath her hand, shed marvel at how an accident of timingone grumpy neighbor, a cardboard box, a spilled cup of chamomilehad changed her world.
Eric always ate first, as if confident in his place. Natalie grew used to setting out two bowls in the kitchen, one for coffee, one for kibble, and chatting to him about her day ahead: the jobs, the edits, the little hopes shed dust off and try again. Hed mew at her in reply, wise and irreverent, and shed think for a second what it meant, then just feel glad for the company.
They fell into a pattern that felt less like compromise than discovery. She stopped wishing for someone to fill something inside hershe realized, at last, shed never been missing anything at all.
The flat, once echoing and still, now pulsed with Erics energy and Natalies laughter. When her friends visited, Eric would parade across the room with imperious grace, collecting greetings like a celebrity. Even Mrs. Parsons, stomping upstairs with one or both grandkids in tow, would peer in with a snort and mutter, Suppose hes not such a little terror now, is he?
No, Natalie would reply, hes family.
When the days grew shorter, and icy drafts curled under the door, Eric became even clingier, always seeking warmtha lap, a blanket, the patch of sunlight on the rug. Natalie, curled in her chair, would sometimes catch herself grinning for no reason. The camera sat idle more often now, the world outside feeling a touch less urgent.
One twilight, as Natalie watched Eric chase his own trance of dust-motes in the fading orange light, she realized the question that had haunted herthe ache that no therapists advice could healhad simply faded away, replaced by something small and solid, curled up against her heart just like Eric against her side.
And when she finally posted an update to the adoption forum, she typed it almost carelessly, a smile to herself as the words appeared:
Home found. Thank you, everyonehes right where he belongs.
Not a trace of regretonly two hearts, intertwined, filling a quiet flat with a gentle, indelible joy.
