Monday, 26 December 2011

A Terrible Day

Christmas has never been my favourite time of year, but this year it has outdone itself.   We'd had a nice Christmas day with the family and my good friend Yvonne round; I'd cooked dinner which was enjoyed by all when my parents decided they'd go home around 10pm, to find beautiful Bailey cat having a fit underneath their car.  We rushed him inside, inspected him and he gave a shuddering breath and died.  He'd been hit by a car; he was only just a year old, and its another blow to our small cat family.  

I think I can be excused for being a bit off christmas once again - there are so many 'if only's' - if only we hadn't brought him over from Mark's Mums' house where he'd been keeping her company for a week, if only we hadn't let him out, if only the weather had been colder he wouldn't have even gone out, oh so many - it has left me feeling desperately sad and I can't seem to stop leaking tears - this is the second untimely, young cat death this year, the first was Aston in April who died of asthma - and the waste of such a beautiful, loved feline has upset us all deeply - he was always a wanderer which happily is not the case with the other cats we have, but that does not make us feel any better. 

To Mark's Mum I had to say he was lucky in a way - he died surrounded by all the people who loved him, who were trying to help him - which I feel sure he knew, he never knew a moment of cruelty or unkindness in his entire life, and it was mercifully (I hope) quick.  

He was such a character, we often received phone calls from people telling us our cat was with them (and often either playing with their cats or eating dinner with them), and in September when Mark was away in France I spent 3 days looking for Bailey, in tears, convinced somthing awful had happened, only to find out he had wandered nearly 3 miles away from home - so realistically it was only a matter of time, but none of that makes any of us feel any better, and it was particularly terrible that Mark's 90-odd year old mother had to be there to see all that.  He's buried in the garden with his favourite toys, along with the other pusscats we've lost over the years, but what a terrible day. 

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