I needn’t have worried. The neighbours I was gifted with were kind, thoughtful, and always looking out for me. The family who lived above me would regularly cat-sit, and their children adored playing with my cat, Gary. When Gary passed away at just three years old, my neighbours were the first people I turned to. A man knocked at my door one evening to tell me he’d found Gary, hit by a car and hidden under a hedge a few roads away. In a moment of panic, I knew I couldn’t go alone to check if it was him. I ran upstairs and knocked on my neighbour’s door. Without a second thought, she went in my place and brought Gary home, wrapped up gently.
