The Story of Fester Cat

The Story of Fester Cat

Language: English

Pages: 304

ISBN: 0425275043

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


I always knew that the rest of my story is gonna be a good one. I don’t know how I knew that, but I always did. Ungow! I am Fester the cat. Welcome to my book, everyone!

From when he first ambled into Paul Magrs’s yard—skinny, covered in flea bites, and missing all but one and a half teeth—Fester knew he’d found his family. Paul and his partner, Jeremy, thought it was the ragged black-and-white stray, tired from a rough life on the streets, who was in desperate need of support. But clever Fester knew better. He understood that it was his newfound owners who needed the help.

Over the course of seven years, the feisty feline turned the quaint Manchester house into a loving home. Through his fierce spirit, strong will, and calming energy, Fester taught Paul and Jeremy how to listen and breathe, how to appreciate the joys of simply sitting and singing (what Fester’s purrs sounded like to his silly humans), and how to find joy and contentment in life, even when dealing with hardship.

This is the true story of an extraordinary little cat whose gentle charm and trusting soul turned two young men into a family.

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I wasn’t prepared for how it would be. She held on to her husband’s arm as they walked from their car to the house and over the tall step. Every step is a real battle for her. She is dreading needing the toilet here because there isn’t one downstairs. Somehow she’ll have to deal with the stairs. They’re talking about the hotel they’re staying in. Paul found them somewhere not too far away. They’re talking about breakfast. He’s telling them to just have what they want. “Well, I won’t have

were kind of out of sync. I wasn’t happy on the stairs. Also—aaarrgghh—my claws were too long. Last time at the hairdresser’s Mr. Joe was good enough to give them an expert, professional, no-nonsense clipping. And afterwards I wasn’t snagging myself on carpets, blankies, table mats. But he didn’t do them during my visit this week and I was a bit like, huh? But claw clipping is what really needs doing. It’s all very well giving out new diets and shaving patches of fur—but what about all this

take them in the house? Maybe that’ll be an incentive to Paul to come back? Look! Look what I’ve been up to! My Work There are mice underneath our house. Oh, I’ve been down in that cellar. I’m not supposed to, because of what happened before. When I used the whole of one room as a litter tray for a week. But I know that it’s there. It’s like a whole other house under there. There are just as many rooms, all of them dark, with a muddy floor. There are boxes—cardboard, mousey-smelling, slowly

first time we ever settled properly in one place and spread out, with all our stuff under one roof, pooling all our dreams and building a home and a garden and a future together. It was the place we found in our midthirties. In South Manchester, alongside the railway lines. And only then did Fester come marching out of the undergrowth and up our back garden, demanding to be let into our house and our lives. This cat who must have been a kitten back in the midnineties, back in the days when

into another car. There were speed bumps. The car rolled over them bumpily and I wobbled. I almost rolled over completely. Jeremy tried to phone the nice lady again but the sun was glaring on the screen of his phone. He threw his phone onto the backseat, swearing. Paul rang up using his instead. The nice receptionist said, “Oh, we’re not far after the turnoff into Queen Street.” And they were! Jeremy and Paul looked around and we were there! We were parked right outside the emergency vet clinic.

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