This morning, I buried Hattie. I was away on Wednesday when she died. Mrs L arrived home that evening to discover that she had recently gone as her body was still warm. At seventeen, Hattie had had a good, full life. She was one of the four kittens born on midsummer night of 1998. Now, only her sister, Cleo survives.
Her last couple of years were not ideal for a cat. She suddenly stopped going outside and became somewhat frail. For a cat that, in her prime, had been very much an outdoor cat – the picture above, taken ten years ago, is testament to how she liked high places and the woods that line the cycle path opposite. When we were living in France, that summer, Hattie was one of the small group of cats that insisted on being fed outside on the patio, barely venturing in until the winter snows in December. Clearly her failing health caused her to lose confidence during the last few months or so.
However, she was still happy to leap around on high surfaces and my last, enduring memory of her will be that Tuesday afternoon before setting out for Ramsgate. I’d just prepared a spaghetti bolognaise and Hattie was trying to steal the grated cheese. A week previously she’d managed to snaffle a slice of beef that was momentarily unattended. So, to the very end, she was an opportunist thief with an eye for good eating. Sometime on Wednesday afternoon she settled down in her favourite chair for her afternoon nap. She didn’t wake up.
These little creatures steal your heart for a decade and a half or so, then they go and break it.
Cats and dogs both. They are like children in that respect.
It’s a nice way to go. I hope I go the same way…
The pain of loss diminishes in time, then you have wonderful memories and realise how privileged you are in that they made you such a part of their lives. Beautiful creatures.
Sleep tight Hattie with dreams of the happy life you had.
What a beautiful puss she was! And what better way for a cat to go – sleeping soundly on her favourite spot in her comfy, loving home. It’s very little comfort to you at the moment, LR, but at least you were spared the awfulness of “the decision,” and, then, being there for “the act,” which tears you into tiny little pieces and spits you out the other side as a ruinous wreck. In time, I’m sure, you will fill the space she leaves with wonderful memories of your adventurous mini-tiger.
I’m so sorry to hear this. But at least you were spared that final trip to the vet, which always seems like a betrayal, no matter how necessary.
They all meet the Furry Reaper in the end LR. I’m just so pleased that you weren’t forced to hasten the moment. You never forget ’em, and
their mental-case quirks and foibles still make you smile years down
the line. Vale Hattie, puss-cat among puss-cats, who died as she lived,
monopolising a chair…
She had a good life and went peacefully. Can’t get better than that.
Yeah, the little critters have a habit of doing that – breaking your heart.
Still she loved being where she was and she had the odd victory of being an “opportunist thief”, and no doubt both you and Mrs L loved her to bits. Hattie passed away peacefully in her sleep – there are many of us who would wish that too. A good life, happily lived – what’s not to like.
Sorry mate
Thankyou all. She will be missed very much. Already I’m looking across the kitchen and expecting to see her there, waiting, just in case…
The cat was adorable. It sure hard to move on when you lose a loving cat. Just keep on taking care of animals. That way you can show your true feelings for them. And give the greatest love and affection you would ever give on your pets.