Bite Hard! Bite Hard! And find the tenth life.

My friend Monty has left us.

Over August he lost his appetite and then a great deal of weight. He began to be unsteady on his feet and unable to jump up onto my lap, onto the dryer where his food and water were set up, onto the bed at night.

And when I eventually figured out this was more than a passing distemper and worked up the courage to call in the vet she told me his kidneys had pretty much totally failed and he was dehydrated and dying.

I brought him home for one more night and worked up either the courage or the cowardice to call them in the next morning. I took him out into the sunshine of the London Road at the end and held him as he died.

I knew this day was coming when I took the responsibility on but philosophy fails me in the face of the fact of the thing. I can’t work out if his death was for his comfort, to avoid any further pain and humiliation, or mine, to avoid having to watch.

He was a kind, gentle cat, a bit too needy perhaps. He was the most vocal cat I’ve ever lived with, which I’m told is a characteristic of ginger moggies.

He was brave when push came to shove and his memorial title should be The cat who slew at least one rat because who knows how many others he may have faced down when he was on the streets in his youth.

For he is an instrument for the children to learn benevolence upon.

For every house is incomplete without him, and a blessing is lacking in the spirit.

For the Lord commanded Moses concerning the cats at the departure of the Children of Israel from Egypt.

For every family had one cat at least in the bag.

For the English Cats are the best in Europe.

Which is Christopher Smart in For I will consider my cat Jeoffery.  But you knew that.