I know not everybody will understand what it's like to lose a pet, a member of my family. It's particularly difficult because it wasn't fast. He's been off-colour since around November last year, losing weight dramatically for the last month and finally lost the ability to walk yesterday which led us to make the decision to take him to the vets. She didn't do a full examination but it looks like it was cancer and even she said he'd 'given up the fight'. Yeah, I'm pretty devastated right now.
It's well documented that creating helps you move through grief so after the crying and reminiscing and the dinner we had in his honour (really odd/hard to eat a takeaway without the furball nonchalantly rubbing past your feet, just to remind you he's here and, if it wasn't too much trouble, he'd quite like a chicken ball all to himself), I started a new project. A crochet tunic using the bamboo cotton in dusky blue.
It hasn't gone well. Apparently you can't read patterns through teary eyes and I used the wrong hook, wrong by about four sizes. So that's destined for the frog pond.
I've tried again today, a shop sample of a new brooch kit in a lovely grass green that, had he been a customer, I would have pleaded with him to buy - pefect with his ginger tones. Seems to be going well, I think I've made a mistake but it's not too bad and I'd like to finish something today, just for the sense of achievement and finality.
I know it'll pass - this isn't losing one of my parents - but he was the sweetest cat I've known. Not really a cuddler but very soft and ever-willing to offer up his belly for a rub. I had a horrid thought as he passed that I couldn't think of any good times we'd shared. But that's not true. As I was crocheting I realised that when he was little, he'd bite by nose and his bottom teeth were set just the right width apart to get one in each nostril. Once he'd got in that position, nothing short of a kitty treat would dislodge him. That's a nice memory. Or the fact that he gave kisses - nose to nose. Or the fact that he didn't bother with wool, or indeed projects knitted solely for him, but lay something down on the floor or table and will him not to get a hold of it and yeah - you guessed it - he'd be on there. He really had a thing for my crochet blanket:
Him in his happier, fatter, 'yeah it's my blanket, what you got to say about it?!' days.
He was a scruff bag with a gnarled up face and a manky eye from too much fighting. He was also an idiot cat who would not learn from his mistakes. And, he really didn't care for fibre arts. But he was lovely, soft, cuddly and loving. He'll be missed.