When I was about one year old, Tom Cat came into our garden. He was a stray, older than a kitten, we guessed about a year or so older than me. And he didn’t seem to have an owner, so he stayed.
Tonight we had to have him put down. He’s had problems with his teeth before but on Tuesday night something happened, almost like he’d had a stroke (cats don’t really have strokes, so the vet thinks it was renal failure.) He became very still, and he wasn’t eating anything. So we took him to the vet and, as I thought might happen, he was euthanized. We were all there to watch, and I’m really glad we did.
So yes. The house is empty now, even though I can’t really believe he’s gone. (Already I’m hearing mewing from the hallway.) My strongest memory of Tom Cat is him jumping up the fridge and freezer to get to his favourite spot on the top of the kitchen cupboards, which always used to impress visitors. But I also remember when we moved house, and had to go out for months with a picnic basket to get him back from our old flat.
b. Who knows?
d. 03 \ 03 \ 2006
I’ll miss you Tom, but remember your life with love and fondness