This is a short and rather difficult second post. On the 8th October we had to make the sad decision to have Willow, my cat, put to sleep. She was nearly fifteen. By a sudden, cruel, twist of fate, or bitter irony (you decide) she developed pancreatitis which lead to kidney failure and, after trying everything to help her, the vet declared it was no longer in Willow’s best interests to continue with treatment. She was a pretty little thing, not terribly fond of humans, or dogs or other cats, but I miss her. The upstairs is eerily quiet and empty without her.
I was genuinely convinced she’d live to be at least twenty and during her days of struggling I developed a sort of superstitious notion that if the cat lived, I’d live and vice versa. Weirdly, the only other time Willow was ill was during my radiotherapy treatment in October 2011. She nearly died then and it cost me a bloody fortune in vet fees. I had radiotherapy to my pelvis at the end of this September. Coincidence? I actually have no religious beliefs and I’m generally too much of a sceptic to believe in fate or anything like that, however, I do find the inexplicable intriguing. I can only assume that these kinds of thoughts are ‘normal’ for someone in my position and the experience has raised some interesting questions. I’ve also developed the infantile behaviours of sleeping with a ‘comfort’ blanket and leaving the landing light on. I’m surprised.
Anyway in conclusion, I have decided that public, wry expressions of my desire to outlive the household pets is clearly the kiss of death for them, so hereon in I shall desist. There was a moment though … a very brief moment, when I considered purchasing a tortoise.