Spook went missing 10 days ago, and this afternoon Lucy found his body under the neighbours' hedge. He'd found himself a place to curl up and die, and there didn't seem to be any violence involved.
Tears all round, really, as Spook was RSPCA's best — a teddy bear of a cat. He was, er, big boned. People used to ask whether he was pregnant, which would have been something of an achievement for a neutered Tom! He wasn't really overweight, just very stocky. Lucy and I must have spent days combing out the tangles in his coat; something he completely hated, but was very tolerant about. "It doesn't do to be sentimental about cats — the best ones don't respect you for it" (Susan Howatch), but Spook was a very special part of our lives, and we're all feeling rather droopy.
Since 2004, Max the Cat has largely shunned human company, steadfastly refusing to climb on furniture, largely confining his role to Robocop for Voles. Following on from his recent operation and the loss of Spook, however, and Traumatised by a (worse than dog) Collar, he has suddenly decided Lucy is OK after all for a lap. And so say all of us...
