Five years ago, my neighbor buried her veteran husband and was left entirely alone.
It happened half a decade ago. Madame Renée had just lost her spouse, a war veteran, and found herself utterly solitary. They had never had children. The elderly lady could not stop thinking about her beloved Marcel.
They had wed just before the conflict erupted. Soon after, Marcel went off to fight while faithful Renée waited patiently. He returned alive but without his left hand. He loved his wife deeply and cherished her above all else. He had sworn to protect her forever, yet he could not keep that promise. He died, leaving her alone.
On the anniversary of his death, a large black cat appeared at her door. It arrived in the dead of night, seemingly from nowhere, meowing plaintively. A snowstorm howled outside, the wind shrieked, yet somehow Madame Renée heard the cry. When she opened the door she found the unfamiliar feline. Moved by compassion, she let it in and offered a little milk.
The cat spurned the milk, walked around the rooms with a proud, independent air, inspected the house, then settled on Madame Renées pillow, began to purr and fell asleep at once.
Renée could not bring herself to shoo the cat away and fell asleep beside it. In the morning she examined it more closely. It was clean and wellfed, nothing like a stray. Black as ebony, with huge green eyes and a confident bearing. One detail caught her eye: the cats front left paw was missing its toes, as if they had been ripped off.
My dear Marcel! she sobbed. The cat, meanwhile, leapt gently onto her lap and started to purr.
I must give you a name perhaps Felix? she whispered, stroking its ear. The cat flinched and stared at her with such intensity that Renée was bewildered.
THOSE WERE HUMAN EYES! NOT like human eyes, but truly human eyes!
I see, Felix isnt to your liking. How about Théo? Its a nice name, she hurriedly suggested. The cat hissed in displeasure, jumped off her lap and began clawing the sofa.
Alright, alright. I wont name you. Youll just be The Cat. But please leave the sofa alone, she asked politely. The Cat muttered something unintelligible, obeyed, and retreated dignified to the bedroom.
Thus began their shared life: Madame Renée and The Cat. I visited the old woman often, and she recounted astonishing tales about her feline companion.
First, the Cat tended to her. After her husbands death, Renée suffered a heart attack and her chest often ached. Whenever she lay down, the Cat would curl onto her breast, purr, and fall asleep. The pain vanished as if it had never existed.
One especially odd incident occurred when Renée was resting. The Cat, beside her, was softly purring and had fallen asleep. A knock sounded at the door. She rose to answer, the Cat following. It was Robert, the local drunk and troublemaker. He jammed his foot in the doorway, cursed profusely, and demanded money for a drink. Renée tried to refuse, but he grew more insistent, increasingly vulgar, eventually insulting her and defiling the memory of her late husband.
Suddenly the Cat growled and lunged at the man. Robert pushed it away, but the Cat lunged again, nearly biting his throat. Cursing, Robert lost his footing and fled. The Cat gave Renée a meaningful look with its HUMAN EYES, raised its tail proudly, and withdrew to the room, duty fulfilled.
Another day Renée prepared to go to the municipal office for firewood and asked me to accompany her. We would need to take a bus to the town centre. I agreed, freed from work, and arrived at her house early in the morning.
Renée sat on the bed in her housecoat, looking bewildered and uneasy.
Madame Renée, why arent you ready? Lets hurry; maybe we can catch a ride, I urged.
My dear, I wont go. Im sorry, she whispered.
Why?
I dont know how to say it dont laugh The Cat has forbidden me to leave.
What do you mean?! Ive taken the day off and youre talking about your cat! Come on! I protested.
Listen carefully. I had everything ready the night before and fell asleep. In my dream The Cat spoke to me, just as youre doing now It looked at me and said:
Stay home, Renée. Do not go tomorrow.
My tongue was tied! It wasnt just the Cat that spokeit called me Renée! Thats how my late Marcel called me! And the voice was exactly Marcels!
Then the Cat sang a song Marcel loved:
In the hinterlands,
Where they search for gold in the mountains
Do you remember, little Renée, I sang this when I went to the front?
Even so, I gathered courage to ask:
Marcel, is that you?!
Methodically, yes! I see how hard it is for you alone, so I have returned
Tell Lucie not to undergo the operation. She couldnt survive
And I woke up
Saying I was shocked would be an understatement. I sat silent for a long while, breathing like a fish out of water.
Then an idea struck me:
Madame Renée, are you feeling alright? Perhaps we should call emergency services; your blood pressure must be high.
I feel better than ever, dear! I spoke with my Marcel! she answered, smiling through tears.
I still took her blood pressure. Astonishingly, it was normal.
From then on, Renée began calling her cat Marcel. Strangely, it responded immediately to that name!
Her predictions (or the Cats) came true. The bus we were to take nearly crashed that day. Ice made the road slick, the driver lost control. No fatalities occurred, but many were injured. Coincidence? Maybe. A week later, Renée finally received her firewood.
The neighbor asked me to call Lucie, Marcels niece, and tell her to cancel her surgery. Lucie ignored the warning and died on the operating table
ANOTHER COINCIDENCE?! I dont think so.
Thus they lived together: Madame Renée and her cat Marcel. He continued to heal and guard her, staying by her side until her final days.
Renée reached ninetyfour and passed away last year. Until her last breath she remained strong, constantly worrying about her Marcel. She had made me promise to look after him if she ever disappeared.
She slipped away peacefully in her sleep
I recall how Renées cat mourned her. It was no longer young, and its sleek black coat had turned white.
For the three days her body lay at home, Marcel never left the coffin. I EVEN SAW TEARS STREAM FROM HIS EYES! People tried to shoo the cat, but inexplicably it always returned to the coffin, sitting and weeping.
Marcel accompanied the deceased to her grave, and when she was buried, he stayed there. I tried to catch the poor animal to bring it home, but it fled.
The cat remained at the cemetery, atop the grave of Madame Renée and her husband. He refused to come to me, so I visited daily to feed him.
I worried how he would survive the winter there, and tried to bring him back by force. Once I succeeded, he escaped again the same day, and I found Marcel back at the cemetery.
Winter was harsh, yet the cat survived. He died early spring. When I came to feed him as usual, I found him curled on the tomb beside Renées cross, appearing to keep watch.
I cannot say whether Marcel was an ordinary cat or the spirit of the deceased grandfather Marcel truly inhabiting it.
Reincarnation is much discussed todayhow a soul might return in another life as anything, even a cat.
Im not sure its possible, but for some reason I like to believe Grandfather Marcels spirit dwelled within that feline shell. He returned to his beloved Renée to protect and save her
And he stayed with her until the end, just as he had promised.
Five Years Ago, My Neighbour Buried Her Veteran Husband and Found Herself All Alone.
