Youve got no conscience
What kind of person are you, Mrs. Thompson?! Dont you have anything better to do in retirement? I can understand a lack of conscience, but surely youve still got a soul!
I tried to keep my voice calm, but the smirk on my neighbours face was enough to try the patience of a saint.
To keep my temper in check, I squeezed my fists tightly, then released, over and over.
Around me, innocent cats and kittens wandered, the same ones who, not so long ago, had lost their shelter just because one difficult old lady decided they didnt belong.
There are some people you simply cant reason with and who always find fault with everything.
Thats exactly who I was dealing with now. The conversation was going nowhere.
In the end, that old woman got what she wanted, and the poor animals, who had begun to hope, found themselves cast aside again.
*****
I didnt own a place in the city, so when I was at uni, I lived in halls. After graduating, I started flat hunting.
It wasnt easy. Places were either extortionate, or miles from anywhere, or downright uninhabitable.
After weeks of surfing property sites (all that time I stayed at a mates by grace), I finally landed on something doable.
The flat was at the top of a five-storey block, no lift, but I didn’t mind.
Bit of exercise never hurt anyone, I told myself, catching my breath as I climbed the stairs with the landlady.
Are you living alone or with a girlfriend? asked Mrs. Clark as I was just about to sign the tenancy agreement.
Just me, for now no girlfriend at the moment.
Alright then. But if anyone does move in with you, make sure you let me know straight away.
Of course.
On the whole, Mrs. Clark was a kind and easy-going landlady, which was a relief after the horror stories Id heard from mates about landlords dropping by at all hours, rooting through your cupboards.
No, Mrs. Clark wasnt like that at all.
We agreed shed pop round once a month, just to collect rent, and that if she ever needed to come by, shed always call first. I promised to let her know if anything broke the tap, the electrics, whatever.
How are the neighbours? I asked as she got her coat.
Oh, theyre all sound folk, she replied. Just keep themselves to themselves, at work all day. Only Mrs. Thompson is home all the time shes retired. Rather set in her ways, but mostly keeps to herself. Unless, of course, you start poking the bear.
The next day, I ran into Mrs. Thompson outside the block and, to be honest, she seemed alright.
Morning, she greeted me first. Youre the new tenant, arent you?
Yes, I am. Im on the top floor now looks like were neighbours.
Hope we get along.
Of course, I said, meaning it. It never occurred to me things might go wrong.
But they did, and sooner than I could have imagined.
Rushing for work one morning, I saw Mrs. Thompson out in the yard, broom in hand, chasing a couple of kittens not to catch them, but to shoo them away from her precious bit of pavement.
Get gone, you filthy things! Dont let me catch you here again!
I was already running late, but there was no way I could walk past that.
Mrs. Thompson! What are you doing? Theyre only tiny. Why are you scaring them?
She turned and fixed me with such a look that I half-expected to be vaporised on the spot.
Whats it to do with you? she snapped. Youve barely moved in and already youre acting like you own the place.
Bloody hell, I thought, gobsmacked. So much for first impressions.
Im a human being, Mrs. Thompson, and its called having some compassion. What on earth have those kittens done to you?
The kittens huddled under a nearby car, eyes wide, waiting to see if theyd need to flee again.
I moved closer to them to discourage further cleansing.
The kittens must have sensed I was a soft touch they didnt run from me. One even tried to crawl out, only to be held back by the other, who was clearly the more streetwise of the duo.
Theres no place for those creatures here, Mrs. Thompson insisted. Filthy things, bringing disease, and the stink is unbearable I wont tolerate them on my patch.
Theyre hardly smelly, I argued, and cats are cleaner than most humans, even street ones.
Why not help them, or at least try to find them homes, instead of chasing them? I reasoned.
If you care that much, you sort them out, she barked back. I cant stand animals never could, never will.
You do realise its not just your yard, I retorted. Plenty of others live here, with opinions of their own.
No-one else has ever complained. So I must be right. Anyway, Ive better things to do Im off to the post office.
She brandished her broom, ready for another attack, but I stepped in front of her.
I simply couldnt let her torment the defenseless like that.
Whats got into her, I thought, frustrated, that she can muster such anger for creatures in need?
Youre not touching those kittens.
Oh really? she sneered. Still wet behind the ears, and youre lecturing me? They dont belong here, and you cant watch them twenty-four-seven.
With that, she stalked off.
It looked like, for now, the coast was clear, but I knew shed only wait until I was at work to resume her campaign.
I knelt down by the car, reaching out to the kittens. They watched me with the saddest eyes.
The poor things were so defenseless anyone could hurt them, what with neighbours like Mrs. Thompson.
I had no choice. I gently scooped them up and took them back to my flat.
What on earth do you think youre doing? hissed Mrs. Thompson as I passed. Ill be telling Mrs. Clark youve brought animals in without permission!
Do whatever you want, Mrs. Thompson, I said. But the kittens are staying with me now.
*****
On my way to work, I rang my boss to say Id be late.
Then, just to be safe, I phoned Mrs. Clark about the kittens.
Whats happened? she answered, sounding a bit worried.
Its nothing serious, I stammered, just, well, long story short I told her about the kittens, apologising profusely for not asking permission first. I was on the verge of promising it was only temporary, when she cut in:
You know, Im fine with animals Ive got two house cats myself. Not rescues, but still. I dont mind the kittens staying. Just dont bring any more in. Its a flat, not a farm.
Thank you, Mrs. Clark. I promise Ill keep the place spotless.
And as for Mrs. Thompson, she warned, she never liked animals. Or people, much. Lived alone all her life. But be careful shes the spiteful sort when she feels slighted.
I understand, I said. But Ive no wish to fight her. I just had to get the kittens to safety. Ive done her no harm.
*****
I hoped I wouldnt have further run-ins with Mrs. Thompson, but that hope was short-lived.
Mrs. Clark was spot on Mrs. Thompson couldnt stand seeing a cat or dog.
Anytime a feline showed itself, out came the broom.
Whenever I witnessed it, I intervened. Trouble was, no one else did the other tenants either didnt want to get on her bad side, or just didnt care about the strays.
When I grew truly fed up, I decided to build a little shelter for the cats near the derelict garages at the edge of the estate.
That way, the cats would stay clear of the main block and enjoy a bit of safety.
I wasnt exactly flush, so I asked around the tenants for help.
I explained my plan, hoping someone would be willing to pitch in.
Mostly, I got polite nods and promises to think about it. I could tell they werent interested.
So I scraped together what I could from my savings to buy scrap timber, plywood, and nails, plus a cheap cordless drill twisting in screws by hand would have taken me forever.
Id never built anything in my life before, so the little cat huts looked rough at best.
Still, it was better than nothing, especially with a chilly winter coming on.
The only thing I couldnt manage was a proper roof tiles or felt cost more than I had to spare, not to mention the growing cost of cat food.
Id tried animal charities, but they were all full. I realised I was on my own.
The shelter took weeks to build, and honestly, I wouldnt have got it done in time if not for the kindness of a few neighbours who finally decided to help.
Four blokes, two women. The men knocked up a multi-storey cat flat, with an awning for rain and snow; the ladies brought old blankets and tins of food.
Soon, more neighbours joined in.
With the group helping, feeding, and tending to the cats, things became much easier, and, honestly, my faith in humanity was restored.
The rest of the block just carried on as usual, but even so, people seemed more cheerful. Every morning, I saw smiles as neighbours glanced at the cat cottage taking pride of place by the garages.
Only Mrs. Thompson remained unhappy.
What do you think youre playing at? she shrieked, storming up to us by the sheds. Who gave you permission for this?
Mrs. Thompson, its just some old garages, no one even uses them, I explained, Isnt it better for the cats to have a home away from the main garden? Less chance of them bothering anyone.
No, it is not better! Youve made a breeding ground for disease! And those are illegal structures! Who authorised this?
We meant well, I began.
Thats what they all say! There are laws, you know and you lot dont give a toss! She glared around at us. Ill have you all reported.
Strange woman, I thought, as she stomped off. Why does she care so much about cats having a roof over their heads?
True to her word, Mrs. Thompson started filing complaints left and right.
Soon after, men in high-vis jackets were coming by to inspect our cat house.
Each time, I explained that wed only set up shelters for a few strays near some unused garages, that the cats were being fed, vetted, and certainly werent a nuisance.
Were in control, I said, trying to reassure them.
Theyd nod, jot down notes, and leave.
Still, Mrs. Thompson pressed on, phone in hand, capturing footage even of the cats doing their business where they shouldnt. Off went the videos, and delighted, she rubbed her hands together.
Shes honestly got to have a screw loose, I muttered under my breath.
Then, mid-winter, the unthinkable happened.
I was on my way to feed the cats, only to see a council truck with a bulldozer tearing down our homemade shelter.
What are you doing?! Stop! There are cats in there! I shouted.
Sorry, mate. Im from the council, got a demolition order here. This is council property, cant have illegal buildings.
What about the animals? I tried desperately not to lose it. Where will they go?
They coped on the street before; they can cope now, said the man, unmoved.
Easy for you to say! Instead of destroying shelter, maybe the council could build a new cattery.
Not in the budget
You havent got any conscience!
The cats, thankfully, were all safe, but their shelter was gone. With the basements locked up and stairwells closed to animals, the poor creatures were left exposed and it was December.
I fed them and trudged home, head spinning. Mrs. Thompson spotted me as I passed.
I told you Id see this through! she beamed. Everything must be above-board, and those cats dont belong here.
What kind of person are you, Mrs. Thompson? Is there truly nothing else for you to do? I understand you lack conscience, but surely youve got a soul left in you somewhere!
I did my best to keep my cool, clenching and unclenching my fists.
Then I realised it was pointless to engage. Before going in, though, I looked her in the eye and said,
Are you not afraid you might end up in their place in your next life?
She just gave me a death stare and turned away, baring her teeth in a grim grin.
Theres nothing human left in her, I thought, climbing back up to my flat.
That night, I poured my heart out online, posting appeals for the cats. People sent supportive messages, agreed the council was out of line, but no one stepped up to home the cats.
*****
On the 31st of December, whilst most people were in high spirits, getting ready for New Years Eve, I was sitting with the cats by the ruins of the garage, feeling utterly defeated.
If Id been a child, Id have written to Father Christmas for a miracle. But adults dont believe in those things.
Yet, as happens sometimes at New Year, a small miracle took place.
First, one of the women whod been helping said she could take a cat home.
Thank you, so much! I hugged her, nearly in tears.
Next, two of the chaps whod helped build the shelter took two more.
Then an elderly couple came by and picked a calico cat.
They say tri-colour cats bring luck, the woman smiled. But mostly, we just want to help you shouldnt bear the weight of the world alone.
My heart swelled with relief and gratitude.
By the end of the day, every one of the thirteen cats had a home. People quietly stepped forward, taking in the strays. Maybe they realised, as I did, that celebration means nothing if someones shivering out in the cold, longing for love.
Now every single one had a warm bed for the new year an honest-to-goodness miracle.
I hurried home, finally able to join in with the New Years cheer. I even raised a glass to the kind folk whod shown that, despite everything, theres still good in the world.
Well, lads, happy New Year! I said, stroking the kittens curled up on my lap.
Mew-mew! they chorused, playing about until I burst out laughing.
Other flats were noisy and jolly but, as you might have guessed, Mrs. Thompson sat alone, glowering at her telly. She didnt have any reason to smile.
For what is there to celebrate, when youve got no one? No hugs, no support, no kind word from anyone
Youd think the story would end there, but theres a bit more.
*****
After New Year, Mrs. Thompsons luck turned. She slipped on some ice, broke her leg, and spent months in hospital.
She came back to find pigeons (the same ones shed chased) leaving their mark only on her window sills, but never her neighbours. That summer, she was fined for illegally planting vegetables on the shared lawn below her window the council ordered her to uproot everything immediately.
Council land is not for allotments, said the man from the council. Thats what gardens are for.
Of course, she knew she shouldve checked with the neighbours first, but she assumed no one would challenge her.
And so she paid the price for her arrogance.
To top it off, one day, two mice moved into her flat no idea how they got in, but they made themselves right at home.
Every night, the mice rustled about in her kitchen. No traps or poisons worked.
Shed often think to herself, Why is this happening to me?
Perhaps, if shed ever let a cat or two into her life, she wouldnt be troubled by mice at all
But Mrs. Thompson couldnt stand animals. And now, there was nothing she could do about it.
***
Having looked back over all this, I realise we always have a choice to act with warmth, or to close ourselves off and grow cold. A bit of kindness goes a long way, and sometimes, its returned to you in the most surprising ways. In Mrs. Thompson, I saw where a lifetime of bitterness leads. I hope I never end up doing the same.
