EmPAWyee of the Month

It began with a small sound.

No louder than a whisper but we knew there was something there.

We approached the window and there on the ledge he was. Sitting back at us, staring, until we moved further forward and at that moment in time, he ran away. That was it we thought but then he returned to the window each and every night that week.

Every day, the same process would ensue. We would watch him and he would swagger off. This was the pattern until the seventh day and the can of tuna.

He never looked hungry but as a creature of the night, we wanted to offer him something. It is after all their reputation. To move from house to house, seeking those who need company in return for food. He knew he had us from that day forward and all it took was half a can of tuna.

The Humble House Cat

The humble house cat has a reputation for having no loyalty but for the last three and a half years, our furry friend has moved from the windowsill to the bedroom. He sleeps on my wife's side rather than mine. He has his own blanket and also signals his presence by scraping at the front window, rather than watching and waiting.

Sitting in our living room during day 24 of the first lockdown we heard a noise at the window. A scraping that sounding eerily reminiscent of a horror film. A sound to send shivers down your spine and remember your mortality, something that is top of mind during a pandemic. The cat was back.

Our only guest during those early months. Someone who was unafraid of breaking quarantine and had no hesitation in hoping into bed post food. He kept us sane during 2020 and whilst we have seen him less during 2021, we always have a can of tuna in the cupboard ready.

Working From Home

Wake up, shower, travel, work, travel, relax, go to bed.

The working week was black and white. It was predictable, something that you could set your watch to and live your life around. Sure there were breaks in the process to go to the pub or meet friends, as well as being offered time off for good behaviour but primarily, it was black and white.

We named our cat, Tuneyz. Our neighbours call him Mousy and others call him Stinky Poopy Pants. Our road knows who he is. A black and white relationship that offers us a connection to the past, to a simpler time.

The world is no longer black and white, it is full of grey but through one cat, we can let our guard down and offer ourselves a little reprieve.

I still work from home.

More than 95% of my working week is spent at home, with a day or two here and there being spent in the office. The cat is company whilst I am alone. He strolls in at any hour of the day and removes my attention from the job at hand. Something that can always be completed at another time. The attention must be placed on him, as he needs assistance. He needs a friend and so do I.

An Annoying Memory

Tuneyz is my answer to the silence. The one who can provide clarity and a non-judgmental shoulder to cry on. He is shorter than the average length of a classroom ruler, yet his ambition knows no bounds. During a meeting with my Chief Executive, he decided to present his own ideas.

The presentation was to cover changes within the organisation. It was my opportunity to make a difference. To make a change that would define my career. I was nervous and he could tell.

Rather than continuing his usual nap, he decided to walk upstairs and cuddle up around my feet. A distraction but as sleep had found him I thought no more of it and proceeded to deliver my life-altering talk. This was until he awoke from his nap, realising that he was hungry.

Rather than a silent backdrop, all that could be heard were the loud and insistent miaows that would define a presentation. Rather than focusing on the return on investment, the panel was distracted by the noises. That and the mysterious tail that continued to appear on screen after he had found my lap. A consideration that was both cute and embarrassing at the same time.

He had overstepped his bounds, yet I could not bring myself to be annoyed. He was doing what he was programmed to, or was he?

Cats Choose Their Owners

Lockdown unlocked the mystery over who actually owned the cat. The crazy lady at the top of the street who shouted at us one day, asking if we fed her cat, was in fact proved to be the owner. We discovered this after seeing him sitting on our windowsill.

He was sitting there, as usual, scraping up the window and just as we were about to let him in, we heard, 'Mousy, is that you?'. The owner was here and rather than risk an incident with a neighbour, we pretended not to see him and let her try to reach him.

He ran away and she called him a little 'insert swearword'. It was mean but as mean as it was, it brought a smile to our faces as we remembered that cats choose their owners.

This little bundle of black and white joy had stolen our hearts and chosen us. Whether at 9 am for a whole day or just for a few hours. Whether for work or for the weekend, he was here in our lives to make a difference.

A friend with a beautiful face and stare that could reach into your soul. A friend who does not judge, only coaches you towards happiness and reminds you that there is good in this world. A cat that is not our own yet feels part of the family.

Fear of Death

Once upon a lockdown, we were sitting inside enjoying a shared lunch. I was working but my partner was not. This provided us with the opportunity to spend some quality time together. At this point, we were making the most of the time and attempting to not give into fear.

Halfway through the crisp course we looked out of the window and saw a black shadow laying on the ground opposite our apartment.

• Was it the cat?
• Was it our beloved Tuneyz?
• Had he been hit by a car?

At this moment we said to hell with only leaving the house once a day. He was on our road and we needed to help him. We grabbed our keys and dashed out. Determination etched in our faces as we arrived to see.

A black bag with books in.

Someone had left them outside of their house, being unable to take them to a charity shop. Relief coursed through our bodies ahead of the next thought, which was embarrassment.

We had just run out of our apartment to show concern for a black bag and being English we needed to make our excuses, so we bent down and had a look through, commenting and having little to read at this time. We could see no one on the street but a few curtains twitching.

At this point in time, the world felt a little like an Agatha Christie novel.

We quickly span on our heels and headed back inside. The safety of our home waiting for us, as well as a small guest. Tuneyz was sitting on our sofa washing himself, with what looked like a grin on his face, almost like he had planned it.

Rather than being annoyed, we were simply relieved and happy to see our COVID colleague. We even gave him the sofa and decided to have our lunch on the floor.

We know our place in the world.

A Final Thought

Tuneyz is not our cat. We know this but over the years he has sat there, watching, waiting and popping in to see us. When I've worked from home he's sat on our mat asking for an invite or scratching up the window in order to come in. Whilst he struggles to climb the fences in the back, we still get the chance to say hello to everyone now and then.

Hundreds of pounds spent on what is occasionally seen as indifference.

He is a cat through and through. Beautifully unique and clumsy. He's slept on our beds, our laps and the odd cardboard box. He's kept us entertained and smiling throughout lockdown.

From the first to the misery of the third lockdown and the long Winter days. Tuneyz is not our cat in the legal sense of the word but comes over to our house and you will see our work colleague having a nap on our bed, or anywhere which is vaguely comfortable.

Tuneyz is beautiful, yet you would not hire him. He's not the most productive.