My little Lilith is a cat with nine lives.
From getting chased up trees by dogs, to losing all her teeth bar one, to getting covered in sump oil after sleeping under a car, she’s always been in adventures. In her early years in Norwich, she got lost in the bin store and locked in someone else’s flat; for the last three years in Sutton, she’s been living outside, frequently sleeping in the middle of the road, oblivious to drivers and potential misfortune. No force on earth could bring her indoors, or make her happy to stay that way.
She’s a little black cat who’s been very lucky indeed.
From cynical kittenhood (her white sister was the eternal kitten, a love cat and an empath, Lilith was always the grown-up) she’s grown into an elegant and Bast-like adulthood, somehow apart.
In the very last month, she’s become suddenly a lapcat, a purring bundle of affection – over Christmas, she’s been company when my Cub has been away. She’s been there for me, purring like a thunderstorm, sat warm and close.
Something in me always felt that I would come home one day and she would have died outside, under a car, or forgotten in the bushes – like some strange fey stray. But no, in the last few weeks she has come inside to tell us she loves us.
She and her sister were Ying and Yang cats, brought home as little ones and always friends and inseparable. I often wonder how Lilith felt when she lost Ayesha.
Now, I feel her Ninth Life is upon her – how she has escaped this time, I have absolutely no idea. She is a little fighter, and while she may have lost her sight, we will be there to love her and to help her acclimatise. I fear that we will only have her for a short while longer, but we will take care of her for her remaining time.
Until she goes to join her sister, curled up as Yin Yang cats once more.
YinYang Cats ‘Tao of Meow’ by Barbara McConkey at InForm Design.