Me, my cat, his nerves and my anxiety

This ginger twat is better than Prozac

Last week, I said that I would write about my cat. So here it is: my cat Nelson is almost 14 in human years. He has had a tough life. I bought him off a woman outside Hammersmith station for seventy quid. They vet told me he was too young to have been taken from his mum and would probably die. But he didn’t: we diligently nursed him through his early days and, I think, a special bond was formed between us as a result.

In our first house, he was bullied by the neighbours’ cats: a couple of unscrupulous Russian Blues called Oscar and Archie. They used to chase Nelson around the garden and even into our house. He was in a constant state of fear which he expressed by ‘over-grooming’ his belly until it went bald. The vet prescribed cat-valium which we had to crush up in his food. They also flogged me a plug-in pheromone diffuser supposedly designed to relax cats. It cost me about fifty quid. My mum called me a ‘stupid cunt’ for buying that. Whatever, mum.

When we moved house, Nelson had to move in with my mother in law for a few months because the builders were renovating the new place. Whilst there, Nelson was bullied once again by a local tabby called Hector. Hector was a prick and his owners did little to control his antisocial behaviour. Nelson started over-grooming again.

Last year, at the start of lockdown, Nelson got his tail slammed in the back door (a gust of sudden wind blew it shut on him). He was smashed to fuck and had to have two operations. We thought it was going to be amputated at one point. He’s better now.

Despite all of his struggles, Nelson seems happy today. He is sat beside me right now, like he always is when I am writing. When I finish work and sit on the sofa, he climbs up on my chest and claws gently at me, purring intensely right into my face. It’s a bit full-on to be honest but eventually he settles down, stops clawing and just allows me to gently stroke his head while I try to make sense of Squid Game. He means a great deal to me. Having him with me can be a genuine help when I am feeling tense or anxious. The love he shows me, the therapeutic sound of his purr and the soft, soothing touch of his fur.

I love the bastard. But I wouldn’t want to be him. People are always on about cats having a nice easy life. But Nelson is a nervous wreck to be honest. I’ve got the vets bills to prove it. Maybe I should buy him his own cat.

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The Reset Ep 33 with Nigel Adderley

The podcast is now available on iTunes, Spotify and wherever else you like to get your pods. Just click this magic link.

This week I had the privilege of talking to top sports broadcaster Nigel Adderley who told me about the loss of his son and living with epilepsy. It was a moving and honest chat that I hope you find the time to listen to.

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Some services, links and phone numbers to help you through the tough times

https://www.samaritans.org/ Tel 116 123

@calm 0800 58 58 58

@YoungMindsUK 0800 018 2138

@CharitySane 0300 304 7000

https://www.alcoholics-anonymous.org.uk/

https://cocaineanonymous.org.uk/

https://andysmanclub.co.uk/

https://www.nhs.uk/live-well/healthy-body/gambling-addiction/