In the bright light of early morning Nadolig sat on the doorstep waiting for Glyn to wake and open the door. Last night the storm was fierce. Nadolig sheltered in a shed in a straw bed. We took him a plate of food, a bowl of water and told him to wait, be patient, Glyn would come back. And She took photos to take into the hospital for Glyn, of the cat, of the house.
Nadolig is a wild cat, a strong cat, a roamer. In summer he wanders the hill, Casanova of cats. He will visit, now and again, sit in the garden, pass the time of day. In winter he returns and measures out the days until spring, warm by the fire in the old house that whispers stories of cats long gone, by the fire, or curled on Glyn's lap, keeping him company, keeping him warm.