大象传媒

During the war I lived in a small welsh seaside town. My memories of those days are still crystal clear- and one such memory involved my dear little tabby cat.

Each night we would hear the air-raid sirens wailing to warn us of the approaching German planes. For my safety, my mother would usher me under the stairs, where I would settle, crushed among the boxes of family possessions, considered worth protecting from the falling bombs.

Always, I would insist that my cat should be with us too. But he had other ideas, like most independent felines, he did not relish spending hours confined in a stuffy cupboard. He would run into the garden and disappear鈥avouring the moonlight. With no concept of the danger involved, I would pester my mother to call him indoors.

To this day I can see my mother standing, silhouetted in the moonlit kitchen doorway; planes droning overhead as she desperately called, 鈥� Kitty Kitty Kitty!鈥�

How relieved she must have felt when at last my little cat decided to saunter home, and settled down with me in the dark, gloomy cupboard under the stairs. It was only then that I would curl up on my little camp bed and sleep. Kitty beside me; we were together, we were safe!

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