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Please forgive the fact that this is a thread, but I just wanted to tell you the story of a cat named Boris.
Now before we get into it, Boris wasn't my choice of name. Believe me, it would be very low on my list of names behind this likes of Steve and Bruce.
We moved into our house two years ago along with our cats Rudi (lovely) and Eddie (idiot). We began noticing a big black and white cat would walk along the fences most days for hours on end, meowing to himself.
Our first proper introduction to this cat was when he jumped into our garden, stared us dead in the eyes and used our newly turfed back yard as a litter tray. We weren't much fans of him after that.
But he kept coming back, and we noticed he was a little bit obsessed by Rudi. And let's be honest, who can blame him - he's a handsome chap.
The two of them eventually became pals, and would happily sit together in the garden and were even - on occasion - joined by Eddie.
We grew to like him too, so asked in the neighborhood WhatsApp group if he belonged to anyone but he didn't. At least nobody in the group. But a few people had noticed him around a lot, and one couple had nicknamed him Boris.
So Boris is how he came to be known, but his owners were still a mystery. After a year of visits, Boris got curious and came into our house but he panicked if the door was shut behind him. We were curious too, so we put a paper collar on him asking his owner to ring us.
An hour after he left with his paper collar, we got a phone call. A lady a few streets away told us Boris (or Kitty as she called him) was homeless, he had a family but they moved away years ago and just left him behind, now he wanders around taking food and shelter where he can.
After hearing that we began to give him food when he visited Rudi, he would meow when we said hello to him and eventually let us give him a fuss.
Unfortunately, when he came on one occasion he had a nasty wound on his head. He got in a fight with another homeless cat we nicknamed Eminem (because when my girlfriend saw him she kept saying "Guess who's back again?!") and came off worse.
We tried to take him to the vet but he got upset when we put him in the carrier and ran away, we didn't see him for a few weeks after. He couldn't resist the lure of Rudi for long though and returned, his ear much better. But as winter drew in, we worried about Boris being out.
My girlfriend decided to get some bits together and built Boris a den on our patio and we woke up every morning to find him in there, he had his biscuits and a place to sleep. But Salford climate, like the infamous weather of nearby town Manchester, is terrible.
We had wild winds, snow, frost, flood warnings, and downpours. Boris's little den blew away more than once, other cats tried to steal his food, we were worried about how he would cope.
And so Boris now has a house, a permanent structure he can call his own, where he can keep safe and warm, and be close to his good friend Rudi. And he loves it. And Boris isn't really homeless anymore.
