My little girl had endured such heartache. Then an old friend came along to lift her spirits. By Svitlana Harmon, 44
As I pulled into the driveway, I turned to my husband Perry and said: ‘So we’re agreed, the first kitty that approaches Katya is the one we’re bringing home?’
‘Sounds good to me,’ he replied, as he helped our two-year-old daughter out the car.
Our family had always had black cats. But recently, our cherished 20-year-old cat had passed away.
So, when my care home colleague announced his cat had just had an unexpected litter, it felt like a sign.
He showed us into his lounge and padding around were three gorgeous seven-week-old black balls of fluff.
Two of them were very energetic, wrestling one another, while the other seemed more withdrawn.
‘Timmy’s the runt,’ my workmate said.
On closer inspection, he did look a lot smaller. But, as his siblings played, Timmy was the one who made a beeline for Katya.
My girl gently patted the placid puss. She was smitten with the kitten straightaway.
‘Looks like Timmy’s the newest member of our family,’ Perry said.
As he was underweight, our vet prescribed some special milk to ensure he was getting all the nutrients he needed.
Gradually, he filled out and settled into our home. And it soon became apparent who Timmy wanted to spend his time with.
He could take or leave Perry and me but was Katya’s shadow.
They would watch cartoons together – both slumped in the same position on the settee.
Then one night, I crept into my daughter’s room to find her fast asleep, clutching a content Timmy as though he was her teddy bear.
From then on, they slept together every night.
It was wonderful seeing the pair grow up side by side.
‘He’s her furry little brother,’ I said to Perry.
When Katya started nursery, Timmy was at a loss without his playmate.
He perched on the living room windowsill every morning to see her off. Then, at three o’clock he’d retake his place, awaiting Katya’s return.
Years went by, and their connection remained as strong as ever. When Katya started getting homework, Timmy would patiently lie next to her and wait until she’d completed it.
The patient puss wanted her to finish so they could play!
One evening, when Katya was seven, Perry seemed out of sorts.
‘I’ve got a pain in my stomach,’ he told me.
Weeks passed and his symptoms became more worrying. He started vomiting and losing weight.
Only doctors couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong with him.
Poor Katya had to watch as her dad faded before her eyes.
She found solace in her special four-legged friend. One evening I found them snuggled up, and Katya was whispering to Timmy.
‘I want Daddy to get better,’ she said.
Throughout all the concern and confusion, it gave me comfort to know my girl had her furry therapist.
Eventually, after suffering for a year and a half, we got the news we’d been fearing. Perry had pancreatic cancer.
‘He needs an invasive operation followed by intensive chemotherapy,’ his consultant said.
We tried to stay strong for Katya, but Perry was in a bad way.
Luckily, his 11-hour surgery was a success, as was his gruelling treatment. Eight months after his diagnosis, he was given the all clear.
‘Does that mean Daddy’s going to be OK?’ Katya asked.
‘You bet,’ Perry replied.
With Perry’s clean bill of health, it felt like time for a fresh start. Shortly after, we moved to a new home in Woking.
After getting his bearings, we let Timmy outside. But, one night, he didn’t return.
Perry, Katya and I looked everywhere for the eight-year-old cat, even retracing the route back to our old house.
Only Timmy was nowhere to be found.
Katya was inconsolable - we all were. And just three weeks later, we were dealt another devastating blow.
Perry’s cancer had returned. He underwent treatment, but this time the cancer was merciless. He was in constant pain and lost weight at a terrifying rate.
Within weeks my husband was so frail he was unrecognisable. Katya struggled seeing him go downhill so quickly.
‘I just want Timmy back and I want Daddy back,’ Katya told me.
‘We have to stay strong,’ I said.
But my heart broke for her. She was only ten years old and having to deal with so much.
To make matters worse we were in lockdown, meaning whenever Perry was in hospital, we weren’t able to visit.
Every time he went in, I feared getting a call saying he was gone.
And one dreadful morning, four months after his second diagnosis, it came.
‘It’s time to come say your goodbyes,’ his consultant said.
As Perry was dying, I was allowed to see him. Sitting by his bedside, I watched him take his final breath.
He was 58.
Because of the pandemic, we had to hold a restricted funeral which made grieving even harder.
Katya found it particularly difficult, and I took extended leave off work to try and help her through this dark time.
But my once happy-go-lucky daughter was like a different child. She had awful nightmares and was withdrawn.
She wasn’t just missing her daddy, but Timmy too.
So, when the cat had been gone for nine months, I asked: ‘What do you think about getting another pet?’
‘I’d like that,’ Katya replied. ‘But no one can replace Timmy.’
As she decided what animal she might like, I got rid of Timmy’s belongings, reasoning they might be upsetting Katya further.
A few days later, I was dropping Katya off at school, when she said: ‘Do you think we’ll ever see Timmy again?’
I wondered if that was holding her back from getting another animal. ‘I don’t know love,’ I replied.
Back home, I was doing some housework, when my phone rang.
‘It’s Pauline here from Cats Protection,’ a voice said. ‘Are you missing a cat?’
I clasped my hand to my mouth and said: ‘Yes!’
Pauline explained someone had called the charity after spotting what they thought was a stray near their home – about 15 miles away from us.
‘We picked him up, scanned his microchip and found your number,’ Pauline said.
‘It’s a miracle,’ I replied, racing out to buy Timmy everything he needed.
Later that morning, there was a knock on the door. I opened it and cried: ‘Timmy!’
Pauline was holding a carrier and inside was the most precious cargo. For the first time in months, I felt overcome with joy.
‘Thank you,’ I said to Pauline. ‘You don’t know how much this means to me and my daughter.’
I opened the carrier and said: ‘Welcome home, Timmy.’
After giving my shin a quick nuzzle, he padded up the stairs and plonked himself on Katya’s bed - as though he was waiting for her.
Before I knew it, it was time to collect my girl from school. On the journey home, I kept our surprise visitor a secret.
Then when we arrived, I said: ‘Katya, there’s someone to see you in your bedroom.’
‘Really?’ she replied.
I followed her upstairs, taking out my phone to film her reaction.
She opened the door, then her eyes clocked the black lump on her pillow.
Katya looked at me in disbelief, and said: ‘Timmy?’
When she realised it was truly him, she burst into tears, then raced over to stroke and kiss him.
As she did, Timmy gave her a lick and burrowed into her.
‘Looks like he’s missed you too,’ I said.
That night the pair fell asleep together, just as they had done from when Katya was a toddler.
Since Timmy’s extraordinary comeback four months ago, he’s not left Katya’s side and the change in her has been astounding.
She’s calmer, sleeping better and smiling once again.
My girl has been through a lot, and still misses her dad terribly.
But thanks to terrific Timmy, things seem so much brighter.
For more information on Cats Protection visit: cats.org.uk.