I got Charlie when he was 6 weeks old, when his mother who was a stray, was taken in while pregnant by a friend. He cried all the way home and hid from me when I opened the cat box. I named him Mango.
That afternoon I was off to see Mr Cunty for the weekend, we were only seeing each other casually at that time and he lived alone in a quaint cottage. Wandering what to do with the kitten as I couldn’t leave him alone overnight, I phoned Mr C and suggested he have Mango as a gift. With a little persuasion, he agreed.
We nipped to the supermarket to purchase some essentials for Mango and for the first time, we actually felt like a real couple, rather than fuck buddies, as we searched the aisles for toys and food, then returned to his home to fuss over the baby.
From that moment on, Mango and Mr Cunty were inseparable. After an array of name changes (Allah, Mohammed, Jesus and Buddah) he settled on calling his new pride and joy…Charleston/Charlie.
Charlie slept on Mr C’s pillow every night and seemed to grow offence at my presence whenever I would visit and started to attack my belongings, urinating on my work coat and handbag if I left it lying around or striking my face in the night while I slept.
Even having time alone with Charlie after agreeing to look after him while Mr C was on holiday and bribing him with treats, he had utter disdain for me and was jealous every time I took attention away from him.
Finally Mr Cunty and I moved in together in a new place, uniting Charlie with my female Persian called Dude. Luckily, it was love/lust at first sight for the two cats and they became joined at the hip, a feline equivalent of an old married couple (having three sets of kittens) but he could never accept me.
Banished from sleeping in the bedroom and having to deal with three, then four children all distracting Mr Cunty’s attention, Charlie blamed me and would still regularly sabotage my stuff. He would watch me collect all the clean washing, iron and fold it, then roll on it, leaving a mass of hair or spray it.
I wrongly accused him once of spraying the entire house and he was banished even further, just having access to the conservatory until we discovered a stray cat was invading the house while we slept and Charlie was actually innocent.
At times, I have wished he wasn’t here as he tends to be the cause of a fair few rows and I’m even threatened to re-home him before now but all that changed ten days ago when he went missing.
I feel utterly devastated. Dude is wandering around aimlessly looking for her beau and Mr Cunty is in denial, convinced he will stroll back in. But I know that Charlie would NEVER leave Mr Cunty or Dude for longer than an hour or two.
Mr Cunty won’t even acknowledge his disappearance and hasn’t helped in the Charlie search but I can see him fighting the tears whenever I go out looking.
I’ve knocked on doors with a photo, called every vets and cat rescue, searched gutters and roads, even looked in shrubs in case he is hiding there hurt. Our garden backs onto a railway line with plenty of overgrown hedges, plants and trees and the most heartbreaking search was along the rail track, looking for evidence of traces of fur on the track and moving twig debris along the sides for signs of him.
I’ve accepted he won’t be coming back and I’ve grieved for him heavily for the past ten days, blaming myself for everything. For taking Mr C away from him, for outcasting him from the bedroom, for telling him off whenever he lay on anything of mine etc.
The worst bit is yet to come…when Mr C finally accepts he is no longer coming back.
Anyway, I thought I would share with you again, my favourite picture of Charlie, who was a kooky little thing, the most antisocial creature I have ever come across but with Mr Cunty, he was a total clown, so vocal, with human like qualities.