Home alone

First time in 19 years I am home alone. Completely alone. Big cat died this morning – he had used up all of his nine lives. I scooped him up from his favourite place to lie right next to the aga, and held him as he went to sleep. He was such a love cat. He gave love out in bucket loads and was enormously loved. I am bereft.

We buried him in the garden, wrapped in a warm blanket with his birth certificate and a jar of double cream to help him on his way. These small things we do at times of grief become very important. We were meant to put his brother’s ashes in with him (which have been on the sideboard since 2016) but we forgot and it felt a bit weird to dig up the soil again and put them in. So he is staying put on the sideboard for now.

How do you say goodbye to a cat? He was one of my best friends. He would seek me out if I was feeling poorly and in bed. He would come running to meet me when I opened the door, and when he was younger would jump up, paws outstretched wanting a big hug. At times, he felt human. That sounds weird but feels right.

The aga looks bare without him stretched out, tummy pressed against it, come rain or shine, hottest day of the year or coldest day of the year. At times he would even appear to want to step inside the warming oven. There are no cat bowls with variable amounts of food, no glass of water, no litter tray. Just silence.

Thank you, Big Cat, for all the love, joy and friendship. For the laughs and now for the tears. You were so loved.