both he and the cat were sitting separately on the sofa. I sat down in the chair opposite, and they both watched me carefully.
“Who would do such a thing, Raymond?” I said, when I could finally speak. Both he and the cat looked sad.
“Sick fucks,” said Raymond, shaking his head. “Desi brought her in and we made sure she was OK. He’s allergic, though, so we can’t keep her. I was going to take her to the Cats Protection, or see if my mum wanted another one, but then . . . I dunno, I thought she might be a nice bit of company for you, Eleanor? Just say if not. It’s a big deal, having a pet—a lot of responsibility . . .”
This was tricky. On the one hand, I could not deny that I was drawn to her. She had an undeniably rakish, alopecia-based charm and a devil-may-care attitude that would melt the hardest of hearts. I could tell that she was a cat that brooked no nonsense. She was, at the same time, a vulnerable creature, one which needed looking after. Therein lay the rub. Was I up to the task?
I thought back to the counseling sessions, how we’d talked about thinking things through rationally, recognizing unhelpful patterns of behavior and being brave enough to try doing things differently. Come on, Eleanor, I said to myself. Be brave. This is not the same as before, not even close to it. She’s a cat, and you’re a grown woman. You’re more than capable of doing this.
“I will assume the mantle of care, Raymond,” I said, firmly. “This creature will be looked after assiduously.”
He smiled.
“I’m sure she will be. She looks at home here already, right enough,” he said. The cat was now sprawled across the sofa cushions, for all intents and purposes asleep, although one ear twitched intermittently as she monitored the conversation.
“What are you going to call her?” he said.
I put my head on one side while I considered this. After a while, Raymond stood up.
“I’m going to nip downstairs for a fag. I’ll leave the door on the latch,” he said.
“Don’t blow the smoke toward my windows!” I shouted after him.
When he came back ten minutes later, I told him that her name was Glen. He laughed.
“Glen? That’s a boy’s name, surely?”
I thought about all of those red labels, all those empty bottles. “She’s named after an old friend,” I said.
The next day I woke with a start to find Glen lying beside me, her head on the pillow and her body under the covers, just like a human. Her huge green eyes were staring intently at me, as though she had willed me awake. She followed me into the kitchen and I gave her some water, which she ignored, and some kibble, which she bolted down and promptly vomited back up onto the kitchen floor. I turned away to get some cleaning materials from under the sink, but when I looked around, she was eating her sick back up again.
“Good girl, Glen,” I said. Low maintenance.
Raymond had only brought the bare minimum for her to spend the night, so, while she was snoozing on top of the duvet, I snuck out of the flat and took the bus to the retail park, where I knew that there was a big pet supplies store. I bought her a bigger, comfier bed, a proper litter tray with a covered roof for privacy, four different kinds of wet and dry food, and a sack of organic cat litter. I picked up a bottle of oil that was supposed to be good for her coat—a teaspoon was to be mixed in with her food every day. I didn’t care if her coat grew back or not, because she was fine just as she was, but I felt that she might be more comfortable without the bare patches of skin. She didn’t strike me as the type to enjoy playing with toys, but just in case, I bought a glittery ball and a huge fluffy mouse, the size of an old man’s slipper, which was stuffed with catnip. When I took the trolley to the till, I realized that I was going to have to call a taxi to get it all home. I felt quite proud of myself.
The driver wouldn’t help me carry it upstairs, so it took me a few trips, and I was sweating by the time I got everything indoors. The expedition had taken over two