Finding Freddie
When the Cat Distribution System decides the time is right...
At the risk of never beating the allegations of becoming a Crazy Cat Lady, just a week since my last post I present to you… another personal essay about a cat.
This time, the focus is on Freddie; the fluffy little dude that came into my life a year ago this month (the anniversary was actually yesterday) and why I think the Cat Distribution System knew exactly what it was doing with the timing of his arrival…
Monday, 23rd June 2025.
It was another long and frustrating day spent at Newham Hospital. I’d been going back and forth there since Mum was admitted on the Friday, due to a COPD flare-up. My mood was rotten - partly because seeing Mum struggling to breathe is utterly terrifying, and partly because I felt wholly responsible for her being there in the first place. I’d started my new job the week before, and on my first day, I worked closely with someone who swore blind they were suffering from “really bad hayfever”. I should have trusted my instincts as it turned out it was in fact a nasty cold, which a few days later I caught… and then passed onto Mum.
If you know anything about COPD/Asthma, you’ll know that they don’t mix well with respiratory infections.
There was talk at the hospital of Mum coming home that Monday because she was showing enough signs of improvement to be discharged to a virtual ward at home (we’ve done this before - it’s actually brilliant). Hopes were high - between me recording her stats and doing her daily meds and the nursing team who would check in on Mum on a daily basis, her being home would be manageable and much more pleasant than spending another day in the hospital side room she was in which during the heatwave that summer flitted between Hades hot or Arctic cold, depending on what mood the aircon was in.
After spending the day having various conversations with the team looking after Mum, and even confirming with the hospital pharmacist which drugs she would be discharged with, at 6:30pm we were still there. It was pretty clear a mix-up had happened. We were not leaving that hospital together.
Despite being exhausted and pissed-off enough to justify getting an Uber, I opted for the 25 minute walk home from the hospital. The sun was still in the sky and no longer roasting the hell out of East London, so I thought that a slow evening stroll would clear my head. Everything felt like it was a mess: Mum was miserably stuck in hospital, I was convinced that I’d almost killed her, and just eleven days into my new job which was supposed to be the dawn of better (financial) days, I was already off work on compassionate leave.
It was all a raging shit-show.
Ian had got home before me, and being the gem of a boyfriend - and Chef - that he is, was cooking us dinner although he’d been boiling in his kitchen all day at work. Stressful situations always stunt my appetite, and even though he was cooking one of our favourite meals (slow roasted Calabrian Spicy Sausages with puy green lentils, if you were wondering) it was highly unlikely that I was going to eat much of it.
Because stressful situations also turn me into a total uptight arse, I had to tidy up the kitchen just as Ian was about to serve dinner. “I’ve got to take this bin out before it attracts flies” I muttered to Ian who was quite rightly looking at me like I was crazy. “It’s the summer, and the flies will go mad!” I continued, muttering like a moron as I yanked out the bin bag and tied it up. “But it’s in the Space Bin, Jools”, said Ian, sounding confused. “The lid is closed and no flies can get in. It’s also not actually full?!”
EDIT: we have an automatic sensor bin and jokingly refer to it as the ‘Space Bin’
Anyway, on a mission not to sit down and push the delicious meal Ian had cooked for us around my plate like a child, I went out the front door, black bin liner in hand… because somehow that wouldn’t be as rude as playing with my food?! As I dumped the bag in the large paladin bin outside the chute room, I heard a faint meowing noise. “Nah” I thought to myself - “That’s gotta be one of the neighbourhood cats on patrol making noise”. But the meowing was too small to be coming from one of the older cats on our street. I looked over to my right, and right there was a small kitten.
NO. NOT NOW.
I LOVE CATS.
THIS IS NOT THE TIME TO SEND ME THIS.
I backed away from the smol ball of floof, which I know sounds utterly evil, but we know where this is going. It meowed even more and started following me. The more steps I took backwards, the more steps it took towards my feet, meowing louder at me.
“If this thing follows me for a couple more steps, I’m picking it up” I said to myself.
A few moments later, of course I was back in the house, holding a random kitten.
Ian (who by this point was probably wondering if I’d thrown myself in the chute room) looked at our dinner going cold, then at me… and then at the kitten. “It followed me from the bins!” I exclaimed, holding the poor thing up in the air like baby Simba. “Shit! What am I supposed to do?!”
“Err…. I think we’ve got another cat now?” said Ian.
We kept Peggy and Gin out of the living room while trying to work out which cat version of Pandora’s Box I’d just opened. I made-up a makeshift litter tray in the porch, and gave him (I was able to lift his tail to sex him) a bowl of water and a little portion of cat food, terrified that as it was senior food, it was the wrong thing to feed him. Within minutes, the kitten had lapped up both. The little dude had a wander around the room, sniffing all the spots that Peggy and Gin frequented and didn’t freak out.
Then, the kitten was on my lap, looking at me with complete trust… and promptly fell asleep. It was pretty clear that someone had decided that this space was safe and they’d found their new home.
The Next Day.
Unsure if the kitten would turn into a feral gremlin if left alone for the night, I made up a bed on the sofa and slept downstairs. When I woke up at 7am, the face that greeted me on the duvet - and the fact the living room was still in one piece, told me that he was a good boy!
I spent the morning slowly introducing Peggy and Gin to the new kid on the block. At 13 years old, there was the huge chance that my two senior ladies - especially Gin, wouldn’t take too kindly to child they didn’t ask for. They were curious for sure, and also ever so slightly sceptical, but seemed to start accepting him. Of course, there were a few moments when he’d get put in his place my his elders, but that was all part of learning the rules of the house.
In all of this excitement, I realised I still had to tell Mum that our cat family had suddenly expanded. Already fed-up in hospital, I had no idea how this news was going to land. I thought it best not to tell her in our morning phone call, and fill her in when I arrived during visiting hours in the afternoon. Bracing myself for some kind of falling out, I figured showing Mum a photo of the kitten looking cute with our other cats, and then explaining the situation, might cushion the shock.
“It’s a boy?” said Mum, looking at the photo.
“Yeah - he’s a little boy. Peggy and Gin are curious about him, but it’s been alright so far”.
The silence felt like it went on forever.
“Well, his name is Freddie”. said Mum. “He looks like a Freddie to me”.
PHEW.
In the following months, Freddie became a fully-fledged member of our family: registered with our vet, chipped/neutered and vaccinated. It was official and it felt fantastic.
Life with Freddie.
The past 12 months with Freddie have been filled with utter joy. Mum loves the fun of having another kitten around house again and my girls adjusted to his presence and made him feel welcome… while reminding him who’s the boss. I’m still getting used to him making it very clear that he is an outdoor cat. As much as he loves lounging in the garden with Peggy (and Gin when she was still here), he knows there are life adventures on the other side of our wooden fences, and he’s exploring them every day!
Freddie also seemed to bring out a new lease of life in Gin. As you’ll recall, last year, she first started showing signs of slowing down, but when she had a new, much younger pal to play with, sparks of the old Gin started to reappear. She became playful again, started running about the house more, and reminded us why her nickname was ‘The Bash’ with some of the antics she got up to with Freddie in tow (one of her last acts of Bashing was knocking my beloved vintage Pyrex butter dish off the kitchen counter - you can guess how that ended).
I know most will say it was just coincidence, but Freddie coming into our lives in June felt special. We’d got Peggy and Gin in the June of 2012, and 13 years later, after having NEVER found a kitten before in my life (and always wishing something like that would happen), the Cat Distribution System decided to bless me at one of the most turbulent times in my life.
I had no idea that 12 months after Freddie’s arrival, I’d be saying goodbye to Gin. Perhaps it was all just a coincidence, but so many things came from him becoming an unexpected part of our lives. A new pal for Peggy so that she wouldn’t be alone after 14 years of hanging out with her sister. A new bundle of life for the house to nurture and love and relive the wonderful chaos of having a kitten again. A special companion for Gin to allow her to relive her more active days.
A whole year of preparation for the hardest day.
Making coming back home with an empty pet carrier a little less hard to bear.
Maybe the Cat Distribution System knew exactly what it was doing after all.
Whatever the reason he appeared beside my feet on that June evening, I will forever be grateful that he did.
Even if all I was trying to do was take the bloody bins out.
Once upon a time, I wrote a book. It’d be lovely if you bought a copy or told your friends about it: Back in the Frame: Cycling, Belonging and Finding Joy on a Bike.
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I loved reading this, thanks for writing it. I’m really sorry to hear you lost Gin. A good cat is such a joy through all of the times and I reckon it is a very good sign about a person when a cat chooses them for their whole life.