TWIGGIE'S STORY

Twiggy is now a much loved cat, mistress of all she surveys, well fed and cared for and with a family of her own, but it was not always so.
I first met Twiggy eight years ago on a freezing cold February morning on one of my allotments(I used to have four). I had not visited my allotments for several months as I had been nursing a friend through his last illness, he and I had tended the allotments together for some years. A couple of weeks after his funereal passed and I had still not visited our gardens. I was weary and unhappy and desperately needed the solace I have always found in a garden , I gathered my courage in both hands and set off to face the four large plots alone for the first time..

As I looked around the wasteland of dead plants I realised that I was being closely observed from underneath my shed, an anxious little face peeped out and as I made eye contact disappeared not to be seen again that day. It was evident that during my absence a cat had moved in. The shed had a cat flap in the door, put their for the convenience of my cat Thomas, a gorgeous stripy creature of great intelligence and regal bearing. Thomas had recently graduated from being the allotment stray to a comfortable home as the spoiled and pampered ruler of our cottage, it seemed that the vacancy he had left had already been filled.

It was some time before I got a good look at the new cat, she took care not to be seen but I would occasionally catch a glimpse of here mousing desperatly some distance away, she was very young, and she was painfully thin. I began to leave food for her which at first she ignored but as the weather worsened she began to take the food left for her in the shed. I also placed a cardboard box under the potting bench lined with and old woollen sweater; at least now she would be warm at night.

Through out the spring and summer she steadfastly refused to come near me, or any one else for that matter, an abortive attempt had been made by another allotment holder to capture her and this had made her even more nervous of people. Thomas, who still visited the allotments regularly took a dim view at first of this interloper and I feared that even if I managed to get her to come home with me Thomas would chase her away.

Winter came again and as Christmas aproached the weather became bitingly cold, three times every day I took food for the little cat . Each time she would hide until I had closed the gate and them I would see her slink in to the shed to eat, hungry as she was her fear of people was still strong enough to make her wait until all was safe.

A week before Christmas the weather became even colder, every morning a thick rime of frost covered every blade and twig. One morning I took the usual plate of food to my allotment shed and as I approached a troubled little face appeared through the cat flap, I realised that I was much later than usual and she had become anxious that she would get no breakfast that day. I called her and she ran down the path and jumped straight in to my arms and I carried her to the shed. She tucked her stone cold paws inside my jacket and snuggled as close to my body as possible for warmth, The water in her dish was frozen , it had been a terrible night for a little cat to be lost. She stayed cuddled up under my coat for a long time before she ate her meal, poor little thing she must have been so very cold during the night.

After that she would run to meet me every morning and spend half an hour warming her toes before eating her meal. Each day I left and she would follow me to the gate but would never come through, she would walk up the inside of the fence and watch me until I was out of site,it almost broke my heart.
All through the Christmas holiday this ritual continues. I knew better than to force her to come with me, and then what about Thomas? It began to look as if the could be no happy ending.

New years eve arrived cold, dark and damp, I set off to the allotment to feed my little stray for the last time in the old year, Thomas who had cut through the churchyard met me at the gate. He greeted the stray by touching noses and I thought that they seemed on friendlier terms than I had realised. They shared a plate of food and as darkness fell I prepared to head for home < Tom and I strolled down the path and she followed, we went out through the ate and into the lane, and she followed, She followed us all the way home and as I opened the front door feeling sure that now she would bolt Thomas stalked in to the house and turned to look at her and she followed him in.

Noble, gentle ,generous Tom has been gone for some years and is still much missed but thanks to his good nature we have the pleasure of sharing our home with the gorgeous Twiggy.
She is now sleek and glossy, unrecognisable as the stick thin, frightened little stray of former times. She is sure of her place, she is secure, and yet even after all this time whenever I pick her up she tucks her little paws in to my cloths as she used to as if she remembers, although I truly hope that she has forgotten her sad past.