Today was an all too sudden end to ten years of purrs and quiet demands.
For that decade we fed you, collared you and cared for you, and, in return you allowed us the privilege of sharing your life. You dipped in and out of ours at will, mostly at predictable times, and were an ever present at meals.
I’m going to miss the easy comfort you gave, so elegantly expressed in the incline of your head towards my clumsy hands for a rub behind the ear.
For some time yet I’ll expect you in the garden within seconds of my stepping out, a silent mew alerting me to your gentle presence at my heels, your company ever welcome and unquestioning.
I always appreciated that one member of the family was attuned enough to know the warmest place in the house at any given time and where best to catch the precious last patch of sunlight of the day.
I won’t forget the patient lessons you gave me in relaxation and the simple, furtive enjoyment I got by sneaking you a morsel from the table. In return you gave us regular presents of mice on the doorstep, or bits of them at least.
You troubled us with so very few worries in your happy life. We blithely assumed you were well, but you slipped from us as quietly as you came, soft footed to the end.
You were the best of things, never just a cat, although that alone would have been enough.