Today

My lovely little cat, Arietty died last night. Yesterday morning she was as right as rain. She'd had her supper the night before, pestered me for a cuddle during the evening as usual. During the morning Paul discovered her, apparently poisoned, having fits in the back garden. The vets did what they could - even gave her dialysis to try to get the toxins to flush away, but no good. They've just phoned with the bad news.

She was only 12 - which is no great age - and she always seemed to me to be a happy cat. She had little to fear and had the run of the field behind the house, where she hunted with great relish, supplementing what she clearly regarded as her meagre diet of Felix. She was extremely gentle, if you weren't a rodent and was the prettiest cat I've had.


In My Day

I suppose you have to get used to the idea of your pets dying before you. The first experience I had of this was when we had gerbils at the house in Rowan Avenue. 2 of them, sisters, I believe. We never tamed them and just cleaning out their little cage was quite a job as those beasts can really jump, And they also bite. Even so, I was sorry when the first one went. This was especially the case because Lizzie, aged 3, was the first to notice that one of the gerbils was stretched out on her side and because, when I went to remove her, I found the the sister, with a "waste not, want not" principle had already started to make a meal of her.

Your expect rodent pets to live a short while - little Mini, the hampster only made 2 years and Harry the Hippie, guinea pig, 3.

But your cats and dogs are really family members. They have such personalities and bring constant amusement into your life.

Arietty, thank you for all the laughter you caused me. I'm going to miss your little fluffy presence.