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Darling the cat was lying in her favourite spot in Aziraphale and Crowley’s cottage. This part of the couch was warmed by the sun all day, and it was the perfect location for a nap. It was also Grumpy’s favourite place. She knew that he didn’t mean all the things he said when he’d scoop her up and place her on his lap to reclaim his spot every night. He always played with her when he thought Angel wasn’t looking, so she knew they were friends. And evenings spent on Grumpy’s lap were so relaxing after busy days wandering around town visiting her friends.
Then one day, something was different.
“Darling received a postcard today,” Angel mentioned, handing it to Grumpy.
From one of my admirers, Darling thought, as she preened.
“Ah yes, it’s that time again. Her annual trip to the V-E-T. Let’s go tomorrow and get this over with. Maybe this time we should just hold her rather than use a carrier, as it’s only a three-minute drive.”
“I still have scratches from last year.” Angel patted Darling’s head, to reassure her that they weren’t planning anything for the following day. Nothing at all.
The drive to the vet’s office was uneventful. Darling loved the Bentley but was slightly curious when the trip was so short; she had expected another exciting trip to London, and only became aware of the true destination as she was carried into the exam room.
The vet checked her out thoroughly, gave her some vaccinations, and told her what a lovely kitty she was. Of course I am.
As the appointment ended, a woman rushed into the exam room holding a crying cat wrapped in a towel. “Please help!”
Darling recognised the cat; it was the black cat from the other side of town, the unfriendly one who watched her from inside his house. She hopped onto a nearby counter and refused to budge when Grumpy tried to pick her up.
“He leaned against a window screen, which broke,” the woman said, fighting tears. “And he fell two storeys. He can’t walk.” She broke down as she placed the animal onto the examination table, and was quickly consoled by Angel.
As the vet began his exam, Darling finally jumped from her perch and trotted out to the Bentley. Once home, Darling paced around the cottage, then the garden, then sat on a bench, watching the sunset.
He was in pain, she kept thinking.
They received a call from the owner with an update. The x-rays showed that Midnight had broken two legs, but was otherwise unharmed. His legs were splinted, and he was going to stay at the vet’s for a few days.
“You see, Darling, the cat will be fine. You can stop worrying,” Angel said softly.
“Rowr,” Darling responded. I should have tried harder to be his friend.
The following day, Darling ate a quick breakfast, grabbed something from underneath the couch, left the cottage, and ran to the vet’s office. She walked in the back door and found Midnight’s cage.
“Meow,” she said as she pushed a dainty paw through the bars of the cage. I’m Darling, here to keep you company. She dropped the knitted mouse she’d been carrying onto the floor of the enclosure.
Midnight moved slowly and rested his head on Darling’s paw. Darling remained by the cage, even when Midnight was removed for an exam, and lay next to him, purring loudly, once he was returned.
The cats overheard a phone call. “Darling is here, and I think she’s trying to help Midnight. You know how therapeutic a cat’s purr is.”
“Prrp.” Midnight sighed, snuggling against Darling. I feel better.
The pattern continued for several days. The cage became crowded with cat toys, and Midnight improved quickly.
The vet cleared Midnight to return home.
“Meow.” Thank you for helping me. I’ll see you tomorrow, Darling. Midnight rubbed his head against Darling’s.
“Brrp.” Darling licked his nose. Every day, my friend. Every day.