In the early hours of yesterday morning I awoke with a picture of Lily the cat in my mind. There she was, looking very fat and fluffy, sat on the concrete floor of the carport (here at Bill and Lita’s place in Tingalpa) and Freddie Mercury was singing “Can anybody find me somebody to love?”. Jetlag? Well maybe, that would certainly have accounted for the hour of waking but the rest is down to something Lita’s mum said to me the day before.

In case you don’t know, Celing (not to be confused with ceiling), who originates from the Philippines, is an avid gardener and great help around the house; she is also one of the cutest, happiest little old ladies you could wish to meet – always singing or whistling about her tasks – but her English is fairly limited.

“Lily is my company,” Celing said smiling as I stopped to stroke the cat in the carport.

Bill was working in the garage, the boys were out at work, Lita was helping the girls with Gemma’s wedding preparations for this Saturday, I was in and out doing my own thing – everyone was busy – and Celing, having just hung out the washing, was sitting in the half-shade where the carport edges onto the lawn. Lily the cat preferred the full shade but, of course, she would feel the heat with all that fur.

Maybe Lily has a bit of Persian in her, yet she manages to look more tabby than exotic. Some years ago, in a heatwave, William and I decided to give Lily a hair cut – an occasion we still laugh about… My nephew held Lily and coaxed her with soft words (he’ll make a good husband one day) but she didn’t like being cornered (who does?) and she didn’t like the look of those scissors. I’m afraid we didn’t have any hairdressing scissors, and we couldn’t use the kitchen scissors, and the shears just pulled (we tried), so we had to persevere with an old pair of the stiff and blunt variety. I felt so guilty when the fur got caught in the scissor action and the poor cat tried to make a dash for it – it reminded me of the days when Chris and I were first married, and I didn’t have hairdressing scissors… Ah the good old days! Don’t worry, William and I gave up and Lily sported a punk hairstyle for a while.

So, back in bed, I counted my blessings and thought how lucky I am to have a wonderful family and friends, and good health; although it had been my birthday the day before, I had managed not to think even once about the actual number of years. I went back to sleep and awoke at six-thirty – a much better time – to a beautiful morning. And a little later, when on the phone and pacing around the garden, I noticed that Lily the cat was following me. When I stopped she stopped. She may not be the most attractive of cats – she’s certainly no pampered Persian – but she’s rather nice to stroke and not bad company. Definitely somebody to love.

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