Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-ohhhh…..

I’ll see myself out but please don’t block me….

Anyways…onwards and upwards.

So we are almost 6 months in to 2025 and i have to be really honest and say that this has probably been one of the most peaceful and stable periods of my life since…..well I can’t remember really. Homelife has settled into a gloriously simple pleasure, family life is slowly finding it’s feet and everything in between has been pretty tranquil.

I feel I am at a point in my existence where I can ‘look down’ at where I have come from without fear, shame or insecurity and can really appreciate what it is to be happy. How comfortable it feels to sit in silence and do nothing but revel in the joy of watching my garden come to life; the pleasure of an hour spent reading or the chaos of two nine month old kittens. Stopping to smell the roses; not something I have ever been able to do.

Stopping, I mean.

I have always kept myself mentally occupied, always busy, never still. If I let myself stop and think, even just for a second I would very easily end up in a vortex of anger, anguish and my ol’ pal anxiety. But these days I feel that is changing. I feel much more attuned with my self, much more comfortable with myself and I think I have learned that from three little black cats and a bald man from Wick.

As always…..let me explain.

Recently I have began seeing a counsellor and I have very quickly discovered that counselling has been a bit of a double edged sword for me. On one hand it has given me free reign to vocalise some incredibly complex thoughts and feelings regarding my childhood and adulthood, on the other hand it has brought up some long forgotten incredibly complex thoughts and feelings regarding my childhood and adulthood.

See what I did there?? Anyways….

Growing up I was always aware that I was a bit of an odd duck, very different from almost everyone around me and I never felt at ease or in sync with those closest to me. I always felt like a cuckoo bird, an interloper with nothing in common with anyone else in the nest. Remember the Sesame Street song ‘One Of These Things Is Not Like The Others’?

Well, that.

Times a hundred.

Part of it was because I knew from a very young age that I wasn’t at all like the other males in my family. I didn’t like football, I wasn’t at all ‘rough and tumble’ and I was very uncomfortable around the usual boy’s chatter. I hadn’t yet clicked I was an ‘omosexual, I don’t think I knew what that was at the time and although I realise now that was a large part of my feelings of alienation I don’t think that was all of it. I think a bigger part was that I couldn’t relate to anyone close to me, not to my mum, not to my dad and certainly not to my brother.

Most of my early memories are more that of feelings rather than actual happenings. Feelings of fear, of shame or of hopelessness. I was always on edge, never able to really relax and certainly not comfortable in my own skin, all rooted in what was happening to me at the hands of my brother.

I remember being young, probably four or five and convincing myself that I was the only human in my world. Everyone else around me were robots, they had to be otherwise why would they treat me like this? I think even at that young age I knew that what was happening to me was wrong, how I was being (mis)treated was very, very wrong and in my little head I would create fantastical excuses as to why this was my life just to be able to bear it.

Anyways…..

As I grew school was just a torturous break from a torturous homelife and being social was really fucking awkward for me. I was ridiculously sensitive but completely insensitive to others. Boundaries were practically non-existent and if I’m honest I was a bit of a whiney, whingey little scrote of a thing.

I can vividly remember unintentionally hurting other kids’ feelings with really shitty jokes or pranks and taking things too far, trying to be funny and fit in but missing the mark spectacularly. True what they say though, hurt people hurt people, not that that’s an excuse.

Relationships were generally awkward, friendships were at best tricky and I pretty much always felt like a square peg in a round hole. All through primary school and early childhood I became more and more accustomed to being alone and found solitude to be easier to sit in than company.

Hindsight is 20-20 and looking back I can see that I didn’t struggle to relate to just my close family, I couldn’t relate to anyone. Partly that was because I really didn’t want to open up to anyone, if I did they would surely see how worthless and hollow I was but mostly I didn’t know how to relate to anyone, I hadn’t really learned. My dad was mostly always working, my mum communicated in anger and combat and my brother was a first rate psychopath.

Life Lessons by The Absent, The Angry and The Arsehole.

Sidebar, I do suspect that part of it is also due to being on a spectrum of some kind to some degree (undiagnosed). I often joke that he best way to explain me is ‘sorry for the way I behaved when there were too many noises, my head was fizzy and my socks were wrong’.

Anyway, back to it….

As I hit high school and was beginning to develop a bit of independence I somehow managed to forge a few true friendships (some I still have to this day) and as a very awkward childhood transitioned into a very awkward adulthood (and employment) the separation between family and social lives only widened. I could be whomever I chose to be whenever I was out of the house and neither the twain would ever meet.

On one hand I became quite good at being somewhat superficial and detached from most folk, very self-protective and unable to really let anyone close. On the other hand I became the person that would absolutely go out of his way to help others just to feel some value in myself.

Probably why I became a nurse but as always, I digress.

So I’d been pottering along keeping myself as safe and (in)sane as I possibly could, as shallow and distant as I’d ever been, generally quite happy with the little life I had been building and had become quite happy with the person I had let myself become. Then along came Mal and honestly everything made sense because nothing made sense.

Nothing made sense because for the first time in my life here was someone that made me laugh, made me happy, made me safe and made me comfortable but more importantly made me relax and just breathe. Nothing I’d ever experienced before and all rolled into one person. He seemed to need me as much as I needed him but never asked a single thing of me. He let me be myself from day one, never questioned, never took the piss, just quiet acceptance and unwavering encouragement.

Exactly as it should be.

We built ourselves the ideal life and spent the best part of a decade fine tuning ourselves, our home and our life together into something that really worked, something we were both incredibly happy in and something that gave us peace, comfort and safety.

Then we found Jasper and everything I’d ever known of myself instantly flipped.

Up until meeting him my life was ticking along nicely, if I do say so myself! I was getting comfortable in a proper, healthy adult relationship but I still had quite the simple lifestyle. I could come and go pretty much as I pleased, I enjoyed my home, my partner, my freedom and my family and for the most part had very little to fret over.

In an instant Jasper changed all of that and if I’m honest changed me entirely as a person.

Jasper was a rescue cat and had a really difficult and unsettled life in the few years before he came to us, all of which left him a little skittish, a little nervous and a lottle stubborn. From the very second he deedled into our lives it became instantly clear to both of us that Jasper would fast become the absolute epicentre of everything.

His comfort, security and happiness became the most important aspect of both Mal and I’s lives and making sure that cat knew he was safe, was loved and was in his forever home became our goal each and every single day.

Now I’m gonna be honest here. All through my life I was used to animals, particularly dogs and getting dogs to like me was pretty easy. We’d had several family pets all of whom were lovely wee souls but none of them were solely mine and therefore mine alone to love. I just assumed cats would be the same and the minimal experience I had of cats didn’t really make me think otherwise.

Fool.

With Jasper I had to work for any kind of affection, any kind of trust and honestly that made it all the more worthwhile to me. It made the slightest bit of attention feel like it had been earned and was honest, genuine and intentional. To be truthful I was just happy for any scraps of affection he deigned to bestow upon me but we very quickly worked out that if he didn’t like you you’d know quick smart and I knew Jasper more than liked me.

Jasper and Mal bonded pretty quickly only because Mal was at home more often that I was. My shifts at work were longer, I regularly worked weekends and I had added time away from the house visiting family in Dundee. This meant that Jasper took a little longer to trust me and to figure out what my role in his life was but once he did, my god did he make it clear.

To Jasper I wasn’t his keeper or his owner, I was his buddy. I was playtime, I was protector but I think more importantly I was his equal. Jasper would let me sit next to him when he ate and would quickly relax; he would bolt over to where I was if he got startled or scared by loud noises (damned bastards in the big bin lorries) or we’d lie together at the patio doors and hunt birdies or hiss at the outdoor cats (damned bastards in the garden).

Over our time together Jasper grew from tolerating me being near him to becoming quite affectionate and content with me being around and even daring to pet him but he always, always had firm boundaries.

Whenever Jasper had had enough attention, enough petting he would either flip his ears on backwards and thicken his neck or he’d just get up and walk away. If he just couldn’t be arsed with company he’d bugger off into the next room and sleep. Always his terms, always his decision but this would be consistent with both of us.

The flip side of that was he’d come and meet us at the door whenever we got home, he’d come up in the mornings at a (sometimes) decent hour for chatter and pettings and as I’ve said before if ever one of us were upset he’d be right there, making sure we were okay. If he was happy we knew it, if he was upset or livid, my god did we know it but throughout our time together he was always there, always a constant.

He never once ‘clooked’ the furniture in anger, never tore up rugs or shoes, didn’t demand attention or playtime. He just dominated our lives with a quiet, stubborn arrogance and all he wanted in return was (over)fed regularly and in a timely fashion, loved and petted as and when he decided and the odd game of stringer, springer, roper or moosie.

Jasper taught me to love fiercely and wholly, never fearing rejection or ridicule. He taught me to give all of myself without expecting anything in return because he made me bloody work for every purr, every headbutt and every slow blink he threw my way but more than that he taught me that the utter joy in watching a freeloading, obstinate rescue cat sleep soundly on your furniture without one iota of fucks-given is by far the most glorious joy that a heart can hold.

He filled our home, our hearts and our lives with so much joy and pleasure that no wonder we were so utterly bereft when the time came to let him go onwards. No wonder the idea of never setting eyes on him again filled us with such misery.

The only consolation we had, the single solitary thing we could hang all of this on is that we did exactly what we set out to do when we adopted him; we made the last few years of his life the absolute best that anyone ever could have. He was safe, he was secure and he was absolutely cherished.

In the weeks following Jasper’s passing myself and Mal were struggling. More than I ever had before and deeper than I could pull myself out of and I know Mal was in just as black a void. We had had several conversations about how much we missed him, how empty the house was and how utterly bleak and joyless we felt.

Over that period we had tentatively spoken about maybe getting another cat, agreed we’d be better with two as company for each other but also agreed we’d wait until new year to let some time pass and try to heal a little more. I was keen to rescue again, Mal preferring the idea of kittens but both beginning to accept the idea of another pet or two. We’d even had a look at local listings, both independently and together ‘just to see what might be available….prices….location….just for information’.

Aye, that old chestnut.

Anyway, one particular Thursday on my walk home from work I had clicked on a social media post from Deeside Cats Protection League showing a listing for two kittens up for adoption, never really paid it any mind and continued homeward.

That day I had hit a bit of a wall and realised that I just wasn’t pulling myself together so I contacted my health board’s wellbeing service to seek professional help. When I got home and told Mal I got really upset, admitted I was struggling to drag myself out of this blackness, struggling to hold myself together and felt I had probably reached my limit. Mal, himself feeling like he was on the bones of his arse couldn’t begin to think of how to help me.

Then in an offhand, off the cuff kind of way I showed him the social media post of the two kittens (Ashby and Betta at that point) and said “oh I was gonna show you this…what do you think?….” or something like it. The instant Mal’s face lit up I knew what he wanted but Mal being Mal just said “I don’t know, what do you think?….”

Now, I’m not an idiot.

I know full well he’d never make any decisions unless he felt I was either 100% in agreement or it was something I had no honest opinion over but in that moment I needed Mal to tell me exactly what he wanted, how he felt so I think I said something like “Don’t do that!! Just say what you think” and he simply and very clearly said “YES! THEM!!”.

So I instantly fired off an email to Liz at the Cats Protection League explaining who we were, we’d had Jasper and unfortunately he’d passed but we’d be very interested in adopting Ashby and Betta…..

And then we waited…..

Three whole minutes we waited.

Liz remembered Jasper immediately (he was the goodest of boys so no surprise there) so she knew exactly who Mal and I were, was absolutely devastated for our loss but delighted to let us adopt the kittens and without any further ado, the boys were ours.

Or rather we were theirs.

Instructions to arrange collection were given, names were chosen and in the space of ten short minutes Alfie and Baxter, as they will henceforth be known were secured and headed our way.

Mal got his kittens, I got my rescues and suddenly we both felt a surge of joy and happiness that we had so sorely lost. The very next day I called the foster home the cats were in to arrange collecting them and in that conversation we were given their history and how they ended up in a foster placement.

We discovered that they had been part of a feral colony but broke off at around three weeks old, malnourished and very weak and took themselves to a nearby residence for help. They were then taken to the local Deeside branch of the Cats Protection League and had been hand reared back to health. Both boys had collapsed in their first few weeks but both had recovered well, neither having any lingering health issues.

Does this put you off Mr Wilson?

Not a jot dearie, how does Saturday sound for collection?

Fine!

Lovely, see you then.

So the following Saturday (the very next day) we jumped into the Volvo and off we set. On the drive through Mal was more relaxed than I had seen him in weeks. Suddenly he knew Jasper was near us and was adamant that Jasper had sent the kittens in our direction, and I absolutely agree.

I really do believe that Jasper was sat somewhere watching Mal and I in the absolute pits of blackness and thought “nope, absolutely not having that” and did the only thing he could to help, pointing us in the direction of two little souls that needed us almost as much as we needed them and giving us the chance to bring them the joy and security we had brought him

So we turned up at a remote old schoolhouse, made some pleasantries with the lovely foster carer and 20 minutes later we were all four, back in the Volvo and heading home. It was on the drive back that we realised that it was the first Saturday in October 2021 we got Jasper and here we were, first Saturday in October 2024 making the exact same drive back to Aberdeen, on the exact same roads at the exact same time of day. We’d inadvertently booked the collection appointments for the same time, each time.

Serendipitous.

From the second we got home with Alfie and Baxter our house has come alive again. There is noise, chaos, full glorious technicolour and it is utterly wonderful. We are seven months on now and they are growing so fast we are sure they will surpass their big brother’s imposing size.

Alfie has very quickly become ridiculously affectionate. He loves attention, happily climbs into bed and wakes us at 3am for cuddles and pettings and neither Mal or I mind the ungodly hour one jot! He has the biggest doe eyes that just burn through your soul with so much adoration that you can’t help but fall in love with him.

That little floofer is my absolute sidekick. He meets me when I get home from work, hunts me down for pettings and cuddles or he’ll pop his snout into my work shoes and curl up contented. Alfie lets me pick him up for kisses and cuddles and when he’s done and I put him back down he never runs too far, laying straight down on the floor, belly up and demanding more pettings.

Baxter is a little more reserved, a little more cautious. We were told that he was much more shy than his brother but we quickly guessed that in actual fact he was Alfie’s protector, always watching out for danger, always hyper vigilant and much more considered in what he does. As the months have progressed though Baxter is definitely coming out of his shell.

He and I have full conversations through squeaks, chirrups and clicks. He has always been (relatively) comfortable with me petting him but recently he has gravitated more towards Mal and I couldn’t be happier with that,. Baxter will climb up on Mal’s lap and lay there for ages, getting pettings galore. He follows Mal around like a little shadow, eyes full of love, heart full of chaos.

Watching the boys’ confidence grow over the last few months has been one of the greatest gifts of my life. Seeing those two little mites that were once on death’s doorstep bound around our home, climb over all of the furniture and claim the comfiest spots to sleep as theirs brings us both such pleasure I honestly feel full.

I know I can be a bit naive sometimes but one thing that has surprised me (and pleased me) is that the love I have for these boys has taken absolutely nothing from what I feel for Jasper. That well is still full to the brim, the boys have just tapped into another. It doesn’t diminish the grief either though, that still hurts and always will but then it’s the price you pay for love isn’t it?

Like Paul O’Grady said so beautifully:

You don’t worry about the hangover when you’re at the party.