Most of us have been affected by death. And of course, we all will eventually.
During my time here on earth, my parents and grandparents have died, numerous aunts and uncles have gone and one of my brothers and my best man have left us. The older you get the more the grim reaper pays a visit. But I think I’m fortunate that the stench of death has largely passed me by.
Yesterday, Monday 3 October 2016 at 11am we lost our gorgeous boy Puppy. After a discussion with the vet, he was put to sleep as the diagnosis wasn’t good which would have meant palliative care and we obviously wanted what was best for our pet.
Puppy had the most beautiful face and markings. Julie knew him for 14 years. I knew him for five and he bought continuous joy into our lives.
During his later years he wasn’t as lively as he used to be (it comes to us all) but he liked nothing better than regularly jumping into Julie’s lap and snuggling. Julie enjoyed this too. Enormously. As did I, as I observed the obvious mutual affection between them both.
Puppy wasn’t as keen on jumping into my lap and on the rare occasions he did, I felt enormously privileged that he’d chosen to spend time with me. But we did have the “strokey thing”. That was ours.
People who don’t have pets probably don’t understand how it feels when one dies. It’s “just an animal?” No it’s not. He was a member of our family and we shall both miss him hugely, as will his brother Kitten.
Puppy is a cat.