This is one of the last pictures I took of our cat Rosie, doing what she liked to do best, laze around, roll around in the sun. We took her to the vets last night, she hadn't been well and I think we both knew what was going to happen. But somehow you know, all the preparation in the world doesn't help when a vet looks at you, strokes the cat and says, 'I think we've come to the end of the road for her'. We both cried, but knew what had to be done. And so she was put to sleep, just a little ouchy Miaow when the needle went in her paw and then peace and relief. I am sure we will feel relief for her too, but at the moment, as is often the case, we are thinking of ourselves... how we will miss her.
She was my husband's companion over breakfast... she would always run to greet us, tail in the air, when we had been out... she was there when we worked in the garden... she sat in the kitchen when I cooked, prepared meals, ironed... I talked to her all the time and now I'm wandering around, feeling totally lost and heartsore, talking to myself.
I may have got cross with her often, for digging up plants, seedlings, seeds, bulbs... for chasing and catching small birds then leaving their pitiful carcasses for me to find... but goodness, how I wish she were here now.
She was almost fifteen, and we had had her for all bar six weeks of her life, and a quarter of our own lives. I remember bringing her home, a hissy, spitting little wild bundle, small enough to fit in my hand, and I have photos of her on my shoulder, parrot-like... by which time, needless to say, she had realised that one of us was a pushover, the other not quite so easy, but that this was a lovely house to be in, with a great big adventure playground of a garden, where she would later find all sorts of small creatures to annoy, lots of hidden spots where she could lie in the sun and snooze for hours undisturbed.
I hope she enjoyed being with us, as much as we loved having her. Sweet dreams Rosie