It was quick, very quick and a painful eye-opener to how fragile life is, and how quickly a loved one can be taken from your life. It was just a normal Thursday evening as my wife went into our bedroom to change. She called out to me with a concerned voice. I shot up-stairs. I knew instantly when I entered the room and saw our distressed family cat Sunny sitting on her hind legs on the floor, with her tongue hanging out and, the fear in her eyes, that she was not long for this life. Only an hour earlier she had been curled peacefully on our bed as she normally does looking content, relaxed and gently purring with delight. Half an hour later we’re standing in the vets, but she had already passed away. We were heart broken, and the tears were flowing.
She was nearly sixteen years old and had been part of our loving family since we brought her to our first house as a kitten. In fact, she was the first member of our new family. She was there during our engagement, there for our wedding day, there for the birth and christening of both our children plus their first day at school, and always there on our return from the many holidays we enjoyed. She was there for every high and low we have experienced with never a word of complaint, just the occasional annoyed swish of the tail if her food bowl was empty.
“There was nothing that could be done,” said the vet as he explained that she had succumbed to a condition that was common in cats of her great age, “but at least it was quick.” Mary, one of the lead characters in my Daniel Jones series of books always likes to say, “There is always a but in life,” and this was a ruddy great big but for all of us with how quick it was.
Sunny now rests in our garden alongside the children’s two hamsters. Our home was definitely a one cat house as she would not put up with any other cat, or dog, being around. Now she has gone, the children’s pleas for a dog get louder by the day, and my resolve to say no weakens with every sunset!