The Cat with the Golden Heart

Freddy's Dream

My Dad left one rainy morning without a word. Mum put him in his carrier, picked him up, and went into the hallway. "See you later, Dad," I yelled happily, assuming Mum was taking him to the vet for a simple visit. He wasn't afraid like me; he usually joked, "By the way, Freddy, don't you want to go for me?" But he didn't react this time, and somehow, I got alarmed. I thought about going with him, running behind—the distance to the vet's house was short, and I should have quickly caught up with Mum; maybe I could even overtake her car and welcome them at the door. But knowing Mum wouldn't like me running on the street, I returned inside, had my second breakfast—it's always comforting—and curled up in my basket for a well-deserved nap. Dad will be back when I wake up, I thought.

But as soon as I closed my eyes, I got caught up in a dream. A dream that I will never forget.

In this dream, I was walking down an unfamiliar street. It was a sunny morning; the scent of cherry blossoms filled the air, and thousands of their petals twirled in the morning breeze; the birds sang in trees, happy and carefree, announcing a beautiful day. I walked nonchalantly without any precise destination when suddenly I saw my Dad on the opposite pavement.

"Dad," I shouted, "Dad, where are you going?"

But he didn't react—had he heard me? He continued walking quickly without even a glance towards me. I shouted louder, even screamed—to no avail. I had to cross over and get to him. It was urgent; I felt I was on the verge of losing him. But suddenly, just as the street had been almost empty the moment before, the traffic became so dense that crossing became impossible. Panic seized me. I ran along the pavement while watching my Dad on the other side, who appeared and disappeared into the crowd. What if I lost sight of him? What if he turned into a side street? I'd never see him again. I tried to cross despite the danger, and cars almost hit me twice. I heard warning horns and the hubbub of the crowd—the tranquillity of the beautiful morning the minute before was replaced by immense disorder and brouhaha.

"Dad!" I shouted one more time, and miraculously, he heard me.

He stopped and exclaimed, "Freddy! What are you doing here? Come over!"

At that moment, the traffic stopped—maybe I was at a red light, I do not remember. Suddenly, I found myself next to my Dad, and together, we slowly strolled down the street, chatting happily.

After a short walk, we stopped in front of a stunning garden protected by a magnificent wrought iron gate adorned with gold. The enclosure behind it was an oasis of luxuriant vegetation, brimming with various vibrant flowers that painted the landscape in a mosaic of colours. Tall, majestic trees provided a canopy of shade, their leaves whispering in the gentle breeze. A stream meandered through the vegetation, reflecting the sky and surrounding trees. Over the stream, there was a little bridge crafted from aged wood.

"Oh, Dad," I exclaimed, "look at this! Have you ever seen such a beautiful place?"

He looked at me with immense love, smiled, and stepped inside that breathtaking garden, the gate opening as soon as he approached.

I wanted to follow him; I thought he was tired of walking and just wanted to rest on one of the benches along the stream. I wanted to sit next to him and continue our pleasant chat. But suddenly, the gate closed—it banged shut on me, so I had to jump backwards. A warden appeared from nowhere—I hadn't noticed him before. He looked dreadful, so ghastly that I shivered. He didn't say a word but lifted his paw as a sign of denial. I tried to follow my Dad with my eyes, to ask him where he was going, why I couldn't follow him, and what that place was; I had a thousand questions. But he was already deep inside the garden. He slowly walked toward the stream, almost ready to cross the bridge. Submerged by immense sorrow, I abruptly woke up and rubbed my eyes with my paws to dry a tear.

But when I looked around, there he was, my Dad! Quietly napping, he was stretched out on the sofa to his full length as usual. I jumped on the couch, snuggled up to my Dad, and with a low purr to not wake him, I told him that one day he'd have to get rid of this habit of taking up all the space.

Later, when he woke up, he told me about his day. He wasn't feeling well that morning—his hind paws refused to support him and to move forward, he had to drag his long body. Frightened, Mum found him in the corridor, trying to reach the kitchen at the speed of a snail. She screamed, fetched the carrier, and cautiously placed him inside. That's when I saw him and shouted goodbye, unaware he was unwell.

The vet immediately took care of him and conducted exams that lasted for hours. Dad didn't complain; I, on the contrary, would protest, scream, bite, and try to escape, but my Dad is a gentle and patient cat. Once done, the vet called Mum, saying, "Come fetch him, I cannot do anything for him"—without further explanation because he didn't have any. "How is he?" asked Mum, alarmed. "Better," replied the vet, "but I couldn't find the problem."

More and more worried, Mum took Dad to the animal hospital, a few kilometres away, known for being the best in the country.

Dad told me that he heard Mum crying softly along the way and tried to console her. He started purring and chirping. He even meowed for Mum to take him home as he felt well again. But Mum didn't understand. When they reached the hospital, Dad, freed from his carrier to check if he could walk normally (and he could), wanted first to explore the premises to see if the arrangement suited his liking. They weren't bad, but some improvements would have been beneficial, and he promised to make a list to present on a future visit.

In the waiting room, he met a beautiful Bengal kitty, befriended her, and invited her to visit and play with us whenever she wanted.

"You would see the colour of her fur, Freddy! You would swoon over her!"

But he said her beauty was nothing compared to what was to come. After a short wait, my Dad was taken to the neurologist specialist.

"Freddy, I will never forget that woman! She was such a beautiful and kind person, and we instantly fell in love with each other—it was love at first sight! She kept holding me in her arms, gently stroking my fur, applying kisses on my forehead—it was pure happiness!"

When Mum wanted to put Dad back into his carrier, he refused and sought shelter behind the doctor's legs.

"At my regret, it was time to get back home, and after all, I was happy to return here and meet all of you. But there you are, Freddy: I was expecting a reception or a party. Hadn't I just come back from that garden? On the point of crossing a bridge in the morning and perfectly well in the afternoon! Alas, there was no red carpet, bravos, or a table full of treats; you were all asleep!"

I felt a bit guilty - did he guess my dream? Or maybe it wasn't all a dream? I wanted to tell him about it, but that wasn't a good idea. I only said,

"Oh, Dad, I thought you'd never return."

Again, he looked at me with his loving eyes and started to lick my head.

"My silly little boy, how could you think this? You know that your Dad will never leave you," he said and kept cuddling me. At that moment, we both felt like the happiest cats ever.