Then in the morning, I went looking for him with Mark. I just knew. Then I found him by the side of the road, and someone had killed him with their car. Harley has lost his brother, and I have lost my baby and I am desperately, deeply sad. Mark took him away when I collapsed after I found Harry, and a very kind lady looked after me. I never saw her face, I was crying too hard. This is the second Christmas this has happened - last year it was Bailey on Christmas Day, today it is my sweet boy.
He was an adventurer, a brave boy, a clever boy, with the longest tail on a cat you could ever imagine - he would always be in the studio with me when I worked, he would have this funny way of stretching all the way up to the kitchen surfaces when I was cooking - he'd put his front paws on my legs and s-t-r-e-t-c-h and then ask me for something to eat. He'd always wait for me to tell him to eat his dinner before he began eating - so polite. He seemed to walk on his toes all the time - so I used to call him Harry Tippytoes. He and Harley would wash each other every night, and he and his brother would follow me around everywhere. He got into all sorts of scrapes with Harley, but we never thought he wandered as far as the road. Naive, perhaps, but there you go. Its terrible because we bought this house believing our cats would be safe. Too awful for words. Just heartbroken. Again.