h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

It's been a bad day today. We had to have our cat put to sleep.

Misty was the last of four. And I'm glad she got time on her own. She'd always been a grumpy mare, at least once we got the other two and she and her brother were no longer on their own. But when the first two died, she calmed and then when Dizzy died, she was so relaxed, she was happy and calm and her temper tempered and she became a funny and lovely cat. We'd never realised quite how ridiculously funny she was before then.

She's also been one of the few things, that when I've been really depressed, has helped to lift me by yowling in my face, clambering for attention or eating treats from chopsticks.

Mini was nearly 18. The equivalent to 90 in human years and had been fine until Monday. Yesterday she'd picked up (the vet had given her something hoping it would means she would improve) and we had a good day. I'm glad we had a good last day with her.

I went with mum and petted her as she went. It was peaceful and quiet and it was the right decision. I couldn't let mum do it on her own, even though it was hard and I can't stop bursting into tears.

The house seems so empty now. For eighteen years, which is most of my life, she's been wandering around the house, getting under foot. The dawn chorus being her meowing for food and there's always been one of them there.

I know people say cats are nonchalant and don't really care about their owners as long as they're fed, but they're wrong. I have had four cats and they were each different and wonderful. They have huge, complex personalities, they're funny and intelligent, they know when you're upset and know exactly how to wrap you around their little finger and they become a huge part of your family. At least they have in ours.

I really want a Mini cuddle...and I can't have one again.

Sorry to read about you loss. I have had a number of cats and dogs over the years. You remind me of my cat 'Barbara', a friend of mine and our dates found her on a beach while we were in high school, alone as a kitten. After buying a little food and milk it was decided that one of us must adopt her. Having the poorest excuse of the group, only that I would be disowned and the kitten and I would be homeless together, she spent the night in my bedroom.

Early the next morning my mother woke me with the exclamation "What is that?" pointing at the poor calico kitten. "We will find her a good home" she concluded after my stammering reply.

In retrospect we did. She lived with my parents a full 18 years after that morning. When I married my wife and I moved out of the house, Mother decided that Barbara should stay with them as they were used to each other. My wife and I inherited a Golden Retriever dog several years later. Whenever we visited my parent's house with the dog, he was banished to the screen porch. He and the cat inside would stare at each other for hours on end. While we were buying our house we lived with them for two or three months. The dog and cat watched each other through the sliding glass door all that time.

A year or two after that poor Barbara had reached the end of her time. With much sadness she made that last trip to the vet.

Not long after my parents decided to sell their large house and move into smaller quarters. Among the things given to me at the time was a framed 8 1/2" x 11" framed portrait I had taken of Barbara the cat years before.

When we returned to our house I placed the picture on the coffee table in the living room without much thought.

A short time later I saw "Cody" our golden retriever staring at the picture intently! He eventually walked to the other side of the table and began sniffing hard for her scent.

I had never before, or since seen a dog react to a photograph. I think it has a great deal to do with the fact they rely far more on smell than sight for identification, but for Cody seeing Barbara behind the glass of the picture frame was little different from watching her through the sliding glass door.

The memory still bring me a smile.

FS

Thank you dear.

It's a month today since we lost Mini, and things have started to go back to some degree of pre-cat normality, though pre-cat normality would mean me reverting to the age of 9.

The cat box still hasn't been put away, no one's yet tackled the boxes of food or cat treats etc which are in the cupboards, and we're all still having cat moments. My sister bought a new blind last weekend, it sat in the hall and everytime I caught the white label in the corner of my eye I turned to check if she was there.

Your story - which is so incredibly sweet - reminds me that I need to buy a frame, I've got a picture of each of the cats on my wall and haven't gotten one for her yet.

It's weird, a month on, it still doesn't feel real that she's gone, I keep expecting to round corners and have her yell at me to say hello.

It's just weird plain weird.

Thank you for being so nice, I'm sorry it's taken me so long to reply, between work and trying to avoid more tears, I haven't replied.