7April2025
This morning I was summoned to the front gate of St.Marys Maternity in Littleford. A small wooden crate sat on the step, and the first soul to notice it was the nightwatchman, Uncle Joe, a wiry fellow who had spent his working life as an accountant before retirement forced him into the caretaking trade. He isnt in it for the wageshe simply cant sit idlebut he does the job with the same meticulousness he once applied to balancing ledgers.
Joe glanced at the box, and without a sound coming from within, he guessed there was a baby inside. He pried it open, confirmed his suspicion, and hurried to the hospitals door, praying silently that the child was unharmed. The little one was indeed alive and, to everyones relief, perfectly healthy.
Littleford is the sort of place where everybody knows everybody else, so the question of the mothers identity was settled almost at once. All eyes turned to TillyLeslie, a woman who had a child almost every year and, like many in our community, never bothered with prenatal checkups. Yet after a thorough inquiry, it became clear that Tilly had nothing to do with this particular infant.
The baby was taken to the nearby Childrens Home, a modest building just a short walk from the town centre. As the nurses unfolded the swaddled bundle, one of them exclaimed, Look at that little watermelon! The nickname stuck, for the boy was plump and rosy, and the staff fondly called him Watermelon while he was still in their care.
At the Home, Uncle Joe suggested naming the child Graham, and the name stuck, but the nickname Watermelon held on like a second skin. It wasnt long before a foster family was found, and Graham moved in with them. The matron of the Home, MrsAllisonMathews, was particularly pleased with the placement.
Almost three years later, the foster parents returned Graham to the Home after their own baby arrived, making his position there redundant. By then Graham had grown into a lean, brighteyed boyclever beyond his years. The staff could not understand why the family had let him go so readily, and the sight of his tearful pleas for a mother, a father, a grandmother, broke their hearts. He would stare out the window for hours, hoping for a figure that never appeared.
Summer arrived, and the children spent most of their days playing outdoors. Graham, now wary of adults, withdrew further, preferring solitary corners to the company of his peers. Then, unexpectedly, a cat appeared at the Homes gate. The feline, a scruffy tabby with a mischievous gleam, was called Muckles by the staffafter the old saying to muck about. Although keeping pets was strictly forbidden, MrsMathews tried to send Muckles away several times, only to have him return, slipping through the back door and following the cook, AuntJenny, home each night. Eventually, even AuntJenny gave up, and Muckles settled on the roof of the gatehouse, keeping his distance from the children.
Muckles became Grahams unlikely confidant. Their bond lifted the boys spirits; he began to smile more, to speak, and to engage with other children. MrsMathews, satisfied that the cat was healthy, took him to the vet and, after receiving the clean bill of health, left him in Grahams care. Though Graham never noticed Muckles brief absence, the cat harboured a quiet resentment toward MrsMathews for the ordeal.
Soon a coupleSerena and Markcame to the Home looking to adopt. They already had a daughter, but wanted to give a child from the Home a loving family. When they met Graham, they were instantly taken with him, especially after learning of his double abandonment. The revelation that the nightwatchman who had first discovered him was UncleJoe, the same man who had named him, left everyone in stunned silence.
As the day ended, UncleJoe, perched on a stool, laughed and said, Well, would you look at that! It appears the lad we found on the doorstep is the very same chap weve been caring for all these years. Fate does have a funny way of looping back. He clapped Graham on the back and added, Dont worry, lad. Youll always have a place in our hearts, even if you wander a bit.
When the car pulled away, Graham suddenly burst into tears. Serena rushed to soothe him, unaware that the cause was Muckles sitting solemnly nearby, watching the scene with a halfcrooked tail. MrsMathews explained the whole picture, and the couple understood that the boy had formed a deep attachment to his feline friend.
Thus, the household grew by twoan eager boy and his loyal cat. The boys oncelonely world now thrummed with the quiet purrs of Muckles, occasional gifts of dead mice, and the occasional playful swat from AuntJennys broom, which the cat earned with a mischievous grin.
Reflecting on all that has happened, Ive learned that lifes twists often bring us back to the very people and creatures that first set us on our path. Kindness, patience, and a willingness to look beyond first impressions can turn a stray cat into a steadfast companion and a forgotten infant into a beloved son. The lesson stays with me: never underestimate the quiet strength of those who, like a humble nightwatchman or a scruffy cat, quietly watch over us when we need it most.
