The operation was scheduled for twelve oclock. Simple, planned, an hour under anaesthetic, a few routine stitches and she would be out the same day. He should have been beside her, but she brushed it off. She knew his schedule was packed; the launch of the new London office was looming.
Everything will be fine, she said, planting a quick kiss on his cheek. Ill call as soon as its over. She slipped a few packets of cat food for the strays that lived in the cellar into her bag and slipped out the door.
James Whitaker adjusted his tie, gave himself one last scrutinising look in the mirror, grabbed the project folder from the desk and headed for the office. As chief executive of a firm he had built into a market leader, his role demanded total commitment. He gave it, every spare minute, a hundred per cent, convincing himself it was for them, for her, even for the basement cats she fed every night.
He didnt dislike cats; it was just her obsession, which to him seemed pointless, a hobby without any real weight. He tolerated it the way one endures the quirks of a beloved partner. So every time she tried to bring home a stray, he turned her down outright. He saw no purpose, no benefit. The compromise he offeredan exotic Siamese he could showcasewas about status, about fitting in. The dingy cellar cats? He never understood why she cared, and she was weary of explaining.
***
Operation simple planned nothing special I should have been there with her! he muttered to himself. How many times that night did the words echo in his mind? A thousand? Ten thousand? He drove off, abandoning everything, racing to the hospital. He clutched the white coat, his hands shaking as the doctors eyes flickered over him. He tore through the project that had kept him away, fell to his knees beside her bed, forehead pressed to her hand, begging her not to give up. Open your eyes. Speak a single word.
She stayed silent. Neither of them knew that a routine, hourlong anaesthetic could turn into a fight for life.
Were doing everything we can, the surgeon told him, eyes steady.
Youre doing nothing! James snapped, frustration boiling over as he paid for her transfer to a private ward.
Theres a chance, we just have to wait, the nurse tried to soothe him.
Wheres that chance?! he shouted down the corridor when a week passed and she still lay unresponsive.
He tried everything: consultations with leading specialists, soothing music, endless conversation. He filled her room with flowers, stopped showing up at work, every free minute spent at her bedside. He begged, promised, even threatened. In moments of desperate tenderness he kissed her, recalling the foolish fairytale of the sleeping beauty, and with each passing day his desperation grew into a feral rage that wanted to smash everything in its path.
A chair overturned, a vase shattered. In a fit of fury he flung his bag, its colourful packets of cat food spilling across the floor. The cats she cared for never got their dinner. Those very cats, once a source of irritation hidden behind a veneer of indifference, now lay abandoned.
Bloody hell! Hes a bloody fool! he cursed under his breath.
If only he could turn back time, wipe the past away. He would crawl on his knees, fetch every stray, bring them home, love themif only to make her smile again.
The adrenaline that had kept his heart pounding drained suddenly, leaving him exhausted. He stared at the mess hed made, hands trembling, and gathered the scattered packets of cat food, preparing to stand at the cellar door in ten minutes time.
***
This is called feline therapy, the attending doctor said seriously, watching James lug the sixth cat carrier into the ward. There are no recorded cases exactly like ours, though.
So well be the first, James whispered, his voice cracking as he released the animals from their cages.
Theyre her cats. Her cats! Id give anything to tell her that, he choked out. Just let me say it.
Ill inform the staff, the nurse replied.
Thank you I should have done this earlier. You understand? I
Never lose hope, the doctor said gently. We all learn from our mistakes. Remember that.
I wont forget I wont ever forget.
***
Twelve oclock, the operation. Simple, planned, an hour under anaesthetic, and she would be discharged the same day. She never insisted he be there, yet a shy smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she watched him, now free of his tie, fumble with yet another harness for the cats that darted away from him in protest.
Her cats. The same basement strays that had, a year ago, left her gasping for breath, clutching at air she didnt understand.
Seven pairs of eyes drilling into her. Six relieved sighs barely audible, and one triumphant cry of pure, uncontainable joy that she would never forget.
Perhaps thats why, now that she was about to face the same ordeal again, she felt no fear. Seeing her husband, shirt stained with stray fur, glance at her with a mixture of reproach and love, she widened her smile.
Then she laughed, genuinely, at the curious onlookers. A man in an expensive suit, surrounded by six impeccably groomed, mixedbreed cats, each pulling a thin leash in its own direction, letting out an indignant Meow?a sight not for the fainthearted.
The operation, a weary man announced from the hospital courtyard, cradling a slightly chewed but still beautiful bouquet of roses on his knee, is simple, scheduled, an hour under anaesthetic and discharge the same day. And if you dont stop chewing everything in sight, next time youll be staying at home! He glanced at his watch, adjusted the six colourful leashes, making sure none of the harnesses were loose, then turned his gaze to the ward window where Emily was beginning to stir after her surgery. Soon they would be allowed to visit. He would finally be able to complain about the six tailwaving loafers who refused to listen to him without her.
He would tell her how much he loved her, and would love her forever even if she vanished for days into the cat shelter his company had funded just months earlier.
A fool, perhaps but every time he remembered the day she first opened her eyes, he convinced himself that with her by his side there was nothing more important in his life than that little, maddening love of hers. And so he would keep chasing those fleeting, absurd whims that somehow made her extraordinarily happy.
Always, while its still not too late.
