In Memory of Bobby 21-10-2009
My beautiful boy died in his sleep last night.
He was not well for less than two days back. At first I thought it was just a minor stomach ache. Then the second day, he became lethargic. I thought, like my other cats, he would rally and be back into form by a few days.
Yesterday he lay the whole day next to his bowl of water, but he wasn't drinking from it any more. I still didn't think much of it. I went out, to get some books, and came back to find him in the same spot. By evening, outside, at the back of the house, he couldn't bother to even move into the shade when the rain came. I had to carry him inside and place him onto a big pillow.
I watched over him every half an hour, till 2 am. It was then after 5 - too late to bring him to the vet. I thought I'd bring him to the vet in the morning. But when I checked on him this morning at 6:30 am, I saw him in the same position as last night.
I touched him, like I did yesterday, to make sure at least he moved his tail. He wasn't this time. I touched his legs. They were stiff. A film had gone over his half-closed eyes.
He was no more.
The next couple of hours I cried, then went about making breakfast, for myself and the other two cats, a mother and daughter, Mimi and Jane. They are - were, now ? - Booby's granny and auntie.
No way round it, is there, burying him? I wrapped him in my own clean bath towel. I placed a toy - a mouse - under his chin, in the towel. I had been digging a big enough hole in a ground just in front of where I usually park my car.
Several times I couldn't bear to put him into the hole. I lifted a corner of the towel, many times, to see if he was really dead. One last time - sounds so maudlin when it's written down, like this - I took him out of the big towel and held him, very tightly. I kept saying to him, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, Boy. Because I should brought him to the vet the very first day he was unwell?
I kissed the top of his head, one last time.
Then I buried him.
My lovely, lovely, beautiful boy.
