There really is no easy way to say this – our sweet little boy is no longer with us.

I have been so distraught, I haven’t been able to talk about it.  It’s been all I could do to carry on with any semblance of normality.  He was killed by a car on May 4th and we are both still reeling from the shock.  If you could see where we live, you would understand our disbelief that it could happen on the quiet country lane outside our house.  And so quickly – I saw him minutes before Adrian went to get him in.

Making the decision to let an old or sick cat go to their rest is hard, but you know you are making a choice to end their suffering.  The senseless death of a young, healthy animal carries a much different kind of pain.  It is harder to accept, more shocking to experience, there is more anger and rage and an endless mindstream of self recrimination and ‘if only’s’.

The rational mind knows that this grief was inevitable, but the heart is screaming that it is too soon.  The mind knows that this was not our fault, but the grief  whispers back “are you sure?” There is a chasm of self pity that I long to throw myself into, but an insistent little chirrupping meep reminds me that I have another kitten to attend to and she needs us more than ever.

Farewell snuggly one – when you get over the rainbow bridge, the wise one called Sesame will be watching for you.  He’ll lead the way through the scratching post forest,  through the valley of cardboard boxes, over the snowy mountains of clean laundry to the glorious garden of catnip delight where you can bounce and pounce your way through eternity.