Jim

Jim was always a special lad. Special in the sense that he seemed different to other boys and girls of his age. Growing up, he was never detached from his peers, pretty much the opposite really. 'Uber-enthusiastic', his parents used to say. 'Never stops, always happy, always with a suggestion or comment, rarely a dull moment', is what his teachers used to say. 

So, what made Jim 'special'? Well, as above, on the outside you would say he sounds like any other young lad. Over-talkative yes. Duracell-like battery of energy, yes. But nothing and nobody could explain the real thing that made him stand out from the crowd; Jim talked to cats.

Again, I hear you contest, 'Well, most kids talk to animals yeah? Especially their own pets?' But no, Jim could talk to cats, and they appeared to understand every word that he said.

It all started when he was about 3-years' old and a visit to his Aunty Sarah's house. She had just taken ownership of two tabby kittens from the local shelter. On this day, they were doing what kittens do, literally shredding the house apart. Up and down curtains, chasing imaginary mice, sliding across the floor, clawing at anything that dangled (they seemed to particularly enjoy the dangly bits at the bottom of the extremely expensive settee which was losing value at every scratch and bite). 

"Be careful Jim", his Auntie Sarah said. "They might seem cute, but they'll turn on your little hands like fluffy ninjas before you know it."

But Jim didn't care. He was off, chasing them upstairs and around the bedrooms, giggling with abandon. It was like an instant bond.

Ten-minutes had gone and things were noticeably silent upstairs. Even on a quiet day when just one person was in the house, Aunty Sarah would exclaim how you would still hear the kittens tearing the place apart, jumping off cupboards and play fighting with abandon. But this didn't seem right. So, they did what any other inquisitive family would do and sneaked upstairs to see what was going on. 

And there on the spare bed sat the two kittens and Jim. Jim sat cross-legged, back straight and almost conducting an invisible orchestra. But instead of an orchestra it was the kittens, also sat bunched together, never taking their eyes from Jim as he spoke an unknown language and moved his hands in a silent rhythm. The cats seemed to know exactly what he was saying as after a brief pause, they would both let out a soft, identical 'mew'. Jim would mutter more of this language, move his arms a little more and the cats would repeat. As they peeped from behind the door, Jim would change the tone and pitch and chatter at length, and both kittens would roll silently over onto their backs, legs in the air and just lie there, motionless. Then Jim would let out a strange sound, almost like a tropical bird, and the cats would immediately jump up and sit back into position.

"What are you doing?" exclaimed his slightly concerned and confused dad. And as Jim slowly turned his head, they looked into intense green feline eyes, half-closed in a relaxed state of emotion, just like the kittens.