01/09/2026
𝗚𝗼𝗼𝗱𝗯𝘆𝗲 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝗯𝗼𝗱𝘆 ❤️
Fernando here.
Yes. That Fernando.
The kidney cat. The old street legend. The gentleman with the ridiculous little wiggly tail who was supposed to squeeze another couple of years out of this operation.
Well…
I kicked the bucket instead.
Bit annoying, really, because I had finally cracked the system.
After spending practically my entire life on the streets, I had somehow managed to secure myself an all-inclusive retirement package at Ellen’s.
Priority pass.
My own hospitality cage on the kitchen counter.
Premium food.
Medical staff.
Room service.
Unlimited cuddles.
I tell you — life was grrrrrreat.
I even came with an important name.
I was named Fernando after Fernando, the former City Hall animal rescuer. A man whose heart is so ridiculously big that one day it may simply explode.
He is actually the reason I ended up here.
You see, I was a hood cat.
Born there. Grew up there. Lived there my whole life.
I knew the streets, the cats, the rules and presumably every decent rubbish bin within walking distance.
But then I got old.
And there is no pension scheme in the hood.
The younger guys stopped respecting me. I started getting pushed around. Took a beating here and there.
Eventually I did something I probably never thought I would do.
I left my crew.
Moved down the street by myself.
And there I was.
An old cat, alone, a little beaten up, a little lost and probably wondering whether this was really how the whole thing was going to end.
Then one day Fernando appeared.
He had been watching me. He knew something wasn’t right.
He could have taken me to a shelter, but he knew better.
I had spent my whole life free.
A shelter was no place for an old street cat to spend whatever time he had left.
So he called Ellen’s.
Three minutes later, apparently, my retirement had been approved.
And off I went.
To heaven.
Not that heaven.
Not yet.
The one by the lake.
And I absolutely bloody loved it.
I discovered sofas.
I discovered kitchen counters.
I discovered that humans will actually bring food directly to you if you stare at them long enough.
I discovered that being an old fart suddenly had advantages.
And most importantly, I discovered what it was like to belong somewhere.
For a year, maybe more, I got to be something I had never really been before.
Somebody’s cat.
Unfortunately, my body had other plans.
My kidneys among other organs were failing. A few months ago my right eye went dark. Things were wearing out one by one.
I was fifteen, sixteen… who knows.
Old enough.
Then I stopped eating.
They checked me. Tried everything sensible. Looked me up and down.
But sometimes there isn’t anything left to fix.
Sometimes an old cat is simply finished.
So I went home.
Mum and I climbed onto the sofa together.
The holy place.
She tucked me in beside her and held me.
And that’s where we stayed.
For hours.
No needles. No panic. No last-minute drama.
Just me and Mum.
And when I was ready, I quietly left.
Afterwards, they laid me in my old place on the kitchen counter one last time, so all my friends could come and understand that I was gone.
A house ritual.
Funny, isn’t it?
I spent almost my entire life belonging to nobody.
And somehow, when it mattered most, I didn’t have to die alone.
I died at home.
In Mum’s arms.
Not a bad ending for an old hood cat.
So thank you, everybody.
Thank you for helping pay my bills. Thank you for worrying about my kidneys. Thank you to everyone who visited and found my stupid little wiggly tail irresistible.
And thank you, Fernando, for noticing one lonely old cat down the street and deciding that his story wasn’t quite finished yet.
You gave me my last chapter.
Turns out it was the best one.
Anyway.
I’ve got to go.
Apparently there’s another place after this one and, knowing my luck, somebody has already reserved me a hospitality cage.
See you guys on the other side.
Fernando ❤️
