The Blind Cat

**The Blind Cat**

Liam never had much luck growing up. Oh, hed had a family at firsthis dad, mum, nan, and grandad. A “troubled” family, as people liked to say, but still a family. Sure, they lived rough, scraping by on whatever his dad and grandad could earn from odd jobs. Then, when Liam was just seven, the adults went out one night for cheap vodkasomeone had paid for a round after a dodgy deal. Only his nan came back. Alive, yes, but not quite all there. So, off to the childrens home he went.

Liam didnt make friends easily. A temper inherited from his grandad meant fists flew before words. He fought hard, fought mean. Eventually, people stopped picking on himbut they didnt exactly line up to be mates either. He visited his nan a handful of times over the years. By then, shed gone proper barmy, filling her flat with strays she dragged in from the bins, wandering the streets all day hunting scraps.

She lived quietly, neighbours giving her a wide berth. Her small pension just about covered the rent, thanks to Auntie Vera, the postmistress, who took the money straight to the landlord. Vera had known Liams family for years and, bless her, made sure the boy had somewhere to go when he aged out of care. The rest of the pension barely kept Nan aliveVera made sure of that, stopping her from starving while she fed every morsel to her cats. At first, Vera tried shooing the strays away, but Nan just kept dragging more in. Eventually, Vera gave up.

When Liam left the home, he moved in with Nan. And *God*, she drove him mad. The cats, the messhe tried chucking a few out once, but Nan wailed like hed skinned them alive. The sight of her, usually so quiet, howling like that? Even hardened Liam froze. So he gave up, coming home only to sleep, working odd jobs on construction sites, sometimes crashing in the site hut with the other ladsyoung, rough around the edges, just like him. They drank, played cards, swapped stories.

Then one night, well into the beers, Liam got into it with Max. Some stupid argument, but drunk blokes dont need much. Fists flew. Liam, used to brawls from the home, didnt back downuntil Maxs mate, Jake, piled in. By the time Liam stumbled home, he could barely breathe. His ribs burned, his head throbbed. He collapsed onto his bed in the dark, barely conscious.

Thensomething shifted. The pain eased. Something warm and soft pressed against his side. A faint purr. A *cat*. Too weak to shove it off, he realisedoddlythe pain dulled a little with each rumble. He held still, afraid to move, and drifted off.

Morning came. The cat hadnt left. Just sat there, staring at him with big, strange eyes.

“Piss off,” Liam croaked, throat dry.

The cat twitched its ears and hopped down.

He didnt go to work. Couldnt.

Auntie Vera bustled in later, clucking about calling an ambulance, but Liam refused. Just bruised. Been worse. She brought soup, fed him and Nan. Swallowing hurt. He ate, then crashed again. The cat returnedginger and white, patchy fur. The kind people called lucky. It hesitated, then jumped up, settling right where the pain was worst. The purring started again. Liam relaxed.

Over days, the cat kept coming.

“Auntie Vera,” Liam finally asked, “whats wrong with its eyes?”

“Oh, love,” she said softly. “Shes blind.”

Liam, strangely, grew fond of the odd little creature. Noticed the othersquicker, sharperalways got to Nans scraps first, so he started sneaking her bits. And the cat? She *chose* him. Rubbed against him, headbutted his hand. Never had Liam cared for an animal, but this onethis one gave him warmth.

He named her Mars.

Life shifted. He kept working, but now, some pay went to cat food. Tried a nibble oncenot bad, if you added salt. The other yowled when he shut the door, feeding only Mars. *His* cat. The first thing that was truly *his*.

Then came the vet visit.

“Name?” the vet asked, filling out forms.

“Dont got one,” Liam muttered.

“Just pick one.”

“Mars.”

The vet sighed. “Blind. Completely. No fixing that. But keep her fed, get her wormed. Understood?”

Liam nodded, wincing at the prices. Then

“Young man?” A womans voice. Small, neat, clutching a tissue. “Might I have a word?”

Her cat*had* been hersdidnt survive surgery. Now she had supplies left. Food, toys, a carrier. “Take them,” she said, eyes wet. “Please.”

Liam awkwardly agreed. Her flat was covered in photosschoolkids, he guessed. Teachers always had those.

“Miss Stephens,” he blurted. “You a teacher?”

She smiled. “Was. Never needed to shout. They just listened.”

He fixed her broken light switchconstruction lads knew a bitand stayed for tea. Talked more than he ever had. About the home, Nan, the sites. Mars explored, sniffing cautiously.

When he left, laden with gifts, he fed *all* the cats. Made porridge for Nan. And that night, curled in bed, he criedfirst time in years. Mars nuzzled his wet cheek, purring, until he slept.

By autumn, life had steadied. The army took him brieflythen Nan died. The funeral left him numb. But back at Miss Stephens, Mars stayed close, purring. The quiet, the tea, her voicesomething in him *clicked*.

After service, he moved in properly. Mars split time between both homes. Miss Stephens*Nina* nowbecame family. When he asked about studying, she helped. And every time he wanted to chuck his books, Mars would pad over, purr, and melt his frustration.

She was there for his first girlfriend, Ludmila. Pressed against her legs, purring approval. “Congrats,” Nina teased. “Highest marks from our expert!”

And when their son, Kirill, was born? Mars sniffed the squalling bundle, then curled beside him, just as she had for Liam.

Years later, Kirill asked, “Whyre Mars eyes so weird?”

Nina smiled. “She sees different, love.”

“But Mum says shes blind!”

Liam ruffled his hair. “Both right. Mars doesnt see like we do. But she knows whos hurting. Whos kind.”

Kirill gasped. “Magic?”

Liam stroked Mars head. “Yeah. For me? Definitely magic.”

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