It’s been five weeks since I said goodbye to my big little furry friend, Monsieur Charles de Cat. I still miss him, and find myself hesitating at different times, expecting him to be there. We made a cute little grave for him, and decorated it with a pot of Cat Grass.
Charles was the funniest cat. When I first started working out with weights, I would get down on the floor, on my back ready to lift the dumbbells, and there he would be. His nose just inches from mine as he looked me in the eye. He would sniff my face so closely that I could feel his breath and whiskers. Inevitably he would make me laugh and I would pat him, hoping he would move on. But he never did. I would do the entire floor routine with him curled up leaning against my head. I realise now that he was probably checking on me because it was not normal for me to be on the floor.
I had the oddest dream a week ago… My husband was standing there holding his phone and he says, ‘There is no point going to the Cat Haven, because there are no male ginger cats by the name of Ryan.’ Maybe I should take a drive out there to make sure… Ryan? Where did that come from?
