Richard East - Van Cat Meow: How a small rescue cat helped a lost man find himself

Contents

Contents

To all those who have known the love of a cat.

I look out over the Australian savanna. The scraggly eucalypts and boab trees are a reminder of just how far I am from my home in Tasmania. Today, Ive travelled 300 kilometres on rough outback roads. Just me. And a little black adventure cat named Willow.

No time limits. No worries.

Often, were far from anything, but everything we need is with us. Our campervan home. Dinner cooking on the camp stove. And each other.

The potholes and corrugations that tested the van all day will be waiting for us tomorrow. But for now, I sit and watch the light change. As the breeze drops, the land feels calm again and so do I.

Willow circles my legs then jumps up onto my lap. Just like a house cat, she tells me when she needs attention. I scratch her behind the ears. She purrs.

If youd asked me when I was ten what Id be doing in twenty years time, I suspect my answer would have been exactly this. Exploration and adventure the kinds of things we lose sight of as were thrown into adulthood. But now, I feel like I have those things back, even though, two years ago, they seemed like an absurd and impossible dream.

The sun is low and paints the sky and everything under it orange. In the stillness, Im overwhelmed by the feeling that everythings going to be okay.

I didnt always feel this way. When we started on this adventure, contentment, happiness or whatever you want to call it was a difficult feeling to trust. Especially as it felt so foreign...

B efore I had my van, before I had this life, I had a different van and a very different life. Back then, I used my van to escape on weekends, when my girlfriend, Gabrielle, and I would venture out into the wilderness of Tasmania.

Our van adventures together took me back to when I was a kid and we went on family camping holidays on Tasmanias east coast. Back in those carefree days wed swim in the clear cool water and run wild through the bush, following wallaby trails. And while I wouldnt describe myself as particularly adventurous, when I look back, I can see theres always been part of me that needs to be outdoors.

I remember that, when I was about fifteen, I learnt how to windsurf on an old beat-up board. I took it all over the bay, glancing back at the tiny people on the shore. Out in the middle of the bay, near a small island, Id drop the mast and fall into the ocean. With the sail keeping me afloat, Id watch the clouds go by. Or, if I was lucky, spot a seal on the reef. Once, I found myself surrounded by fins. A pod of dolphins darted under my board from side to side. They surfaced in the distance then returned, seeming to say, Come with us! Well show you our world! But I couldnt keep up.

When Gabrielle and I took off in the van for the weekend, Id forget about the stress of work. Id stop worrying about the paint peeling off the weatherboards at home and the weeds growing in the backyard. But there was one thing I did worry about, and that was leaving our cats behind.

You see, Im a cat person. I think I got it from my grandparents. They adored moggies, and the neighbourhood strays knew it, because theyd regularly find their way to my grandparents doorstep. Each stray was fed and rehabilitated. Most would end up seeing out their days with my grandparents.

My favourite cat of Grandmas was Midas, named after his golden coat. Midas had a bung leg and would sit on the TV cabinet, dangling his leg over the side and obscuring the screen. I still have Grandmas photo album, filled with pictures of all the cats she cared for. On the last page is a photo of me, sitting next to mighty Midas.

Years later, I decided I wanted my own cat. In a shelter, I found a shy little ginger-and-white tomcat named Ty. He was a shorthair, they told me, but two weeks after Id taken him home, he puffed up into a magnificent cloud of fluff. It turns out hed had a trim just before I adopted him.

Once, I spent the morning doing a bit of house painting. I took a break for lunch and went inside. In walked Ty, his snout covered in blue dots. I tried to wipe off the paint, but it just spread further. It was perhaps the first and last time anyone has googled Can I use mineral turpentine on my cat?

Ty sported a glorious azure moustache for weeks.

A fter Gabrielle and I got together, we decided to rescue another cat. This one was black, with a tiny patch of white on her chest and a spark in her character. Gabrielle named her Willow.

Ty seemed to be excited to have a little sister but, less enthused, Willow hissed at him. The standoff continued until Willow established who ruled the house. Soon, however, they were sitting together in front of the fire, washing each other.

Willow is a cat who wants to know whats going on, and she walks with her tail curled like a question mark. So when the doorbell rang, shed run out to see who was there. She also has good manners. When I put her food down at mealtimes, shed look up at me and wait for a pat before she started eating. Willow is affectionate, too: at night, shed sit on our laps for nose boops and cuddles.

As any animal lover will tell you, pets are more than just animals. They share our lives. They comfort us. Theyre best friends, family, waiting for us to come home each day.

But one day in 2012, Ty didnt come home. Both Ty and Willow were outdoor cats, but they always came home at night. Days later, however, Ty was still missing. Then Dad called. Hed found Ty up the street, dead in the gutter. If only Ty had been as street-smart as he was fluffy, things might have been different.

We buried him next to the fish pond.