Five years ago my neighbor buried her veteran husband and was left completely alone.
It had been five years since Madame Renée lost her spouse, a former soldier, and found herself solitary. They never had children. The elderly woman could not stop thinking of her beloved Marcel.
They had wed just before the war. Marcel went off to fight while faithful Renée waited patiently. He returned alive but without his left hand. He loved his wife deeply and prized her above all. He promised to shield her from any misfortune, yet he could not keep that promise. He died, leaving her utterly alone.
On the anniversary of his death a large black cat appeared at her doorstep. It arrived in the dead of night, seemingly from nowhere, meowing plaintively outside. A snowstorm raged, the wind howled, yet Madame Renée somehow heard the cries. When she opened the door she discovered the unknown feline. Moved by pity, she let it in and offered a little milk.
The cat refused the milk, strutted 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 the animal more closely. It was clean and wellfed, nothing like a stray. Black as ebony, with huge green eyes and a very confident bearing. One detail caught her eye: the cats left front paw was missing its toes, as if they had been torn away.
My dear Marcel! she sobbed. The cat, meanwhile, hopped gently onto her lap and started to purr.
I must give you a name perhaps Felix? she whispered while petting its ear. The cat twitched and stared at her so intensely that Renée was taken aback.
THEIR EYES WERE HUMAN! NOT like human eyes, BUT ACTUALLY human!
I see, Felix doesnt suit you. How about Théo? Its a nice name, she hurriedly suggested. The cat hissed in displeasure, leapt from her lap and began to claw the sofa deliberately.
Very well, very well. I wont name you. You shall simply be The Cat. But please leave the sofa alone, she asked politely. The Cat muttered something unintelligible, obeyed, and withdrew dignified to the bedroom.
Thus began the life they shared: Madame Renée and The Cat. I visited the old lady often, and she told me astonishing stories about her feline companion.
First, the cat tended to her. After her husbands death Renée suffered a heart attack and frequently felt chest pain. Whenever she lay down, the cat would curl onto her chest, purr, and fall asleep. The pain vanished as if it had never existed.
One truly bizarre episode occurred later. Renée was resting on a couch, the cat purring beside her, when a knock came at the door. She rose to answer, the cat following her. It was Robert, the local drunk and troublemaker, who got his foot stuck in the doorway, cursed loudly, and demanded money for a drink. Renée tried to refuse, but he grew increasingly insistent and vulgar, eventually insulting her and profaning the memory of her late husband.
Suddenly the cat let out a low growl and lunged at the man. Robert pushed it away, but the cat attacked again, nearly sinking its teeth into his throat. Cursing, Robert lost his balance and fled. The cat fixed Renée with its HUMAN EYES, raised its tail proudly and retreated to its corner, duty fulfilled.
Another day Renée prepared to go to the town hall for firewood and asked me to accompany her. We would have to take the bus to the capital. I agreed, freed myself from work, and arrived at her house early in the morning.
She sat on the bed in her nightclothes, looking bewildered and unsettled.
Madame Renée, why arent you ready? We could perhaps catch a ride, I urged.
My dear, I wont go. Im sorry, she said softly.
Why?
I dont know how to tell you dont laugh The Cat has forbidden me to leave.
How can that be? Ive taken the day off and youre talking about your cat! Come on! I protested.
Listen, my dear. I had everything prepared the night before and fell asleep. I dreamed that The Cat spoke to me, just as you do now He looked at me and said:
Stay home, Renée. Do not go tomorrow.
My tongue was tied! It wasnt just the cat talking he called me Renée! Thats exactly how my late Marcel addressed me! And the cats voice was Marcels voice! Then the cat sang the song Marcel loved:
In the fields of the hinterland,
Where we search for gold in the mountains
Do you remember, little Renée, I sang this when I went to the front?
Even so I gathered the 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 go through with the operation. She could not survive
And I woke up
To say I was shocked would be an understatement. I sat in stunned silence, trying to catch my breath like a fish out of water.
Then a thought occurred,
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 just spoke with my beloved Marcel! she replied, smiling through tears.
I checked her blood pressure anyway; surprisingly, it was normal.
From that moment Renée began calling her cat Marcel, and strangely the cat answered instantly to that name.
The predictionswhether from Renée or the Catcame true. The bus we were to board almost crashed that day. Ice slicked the road and the driver lost control. No one died, but many were injured. Coincidence? Perhaps. A week later Renée received her firewood.
She asked me to call Lucie, Marcels niece, to tell her to abandon her surgery. Lucie ignored the warning and later collapsed 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 years of age, passing away last year. Up to the very end she remained spirited, 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, without suffering.
I remember how Renées cat mourned her. He was no longer a spry kitten; his sleek black coat had faded to white.
For three days the cat never left the coffin. I SAW TEARS STREAM FROM HIS EYES! People tried to shoo him away, but inexplicably he kept returning to the casket, sitting and weeping.
Marcel accompanied his mistress to the grave, and when she was buried he remained there. I tried to catch the poor animal to bring him home, but he fled.
The cat stayed at the cemetery, on the tomb of Madame Renée and her husband. He refused to come to me, so I went daily to feed him.
I worried constantly about how the cat would survive the winter there and attempted to force him back home. Once I succeeded, but he escaped the same day, and I found Marcel again at the grave.
Winter was harsh, yet the cat survived. He died early in spring. When I came to feed him, I found him curled beside Madame Renées cross, seemingly keeping watch over her rest.
I cannot say whether Marcel was an ordinary cat or the spirit of the deceased grandfather Marcel truly incarnated in him.
Reincarnation is much talked about nowadayshow a soul might return in a different form, even a cat.
I dont know if its possible, but for some reason I like to believe that Grandfather Marcels spirit inhabited that feline body. He returned to his dear 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.
