You came into my life, fifteen years ago, as a little bundle of fluff just a few weeks old. Since that day, you were always the perfect friend. I grew used to you running down the garden to greet me when I returned home from work, and rolling on your back to have your tummy tickled. I learned to expect the thunder of little paws and a black bundle of fur landing in my lap, the moment my bottom sat in a chair.

You were always there, through the good times and the bad, never failing to raise my spirits when I was down and to help me celebrate when things were good. Overall though, we had mostly good times.

Four months ago, your behaviour started to change, you became quieter and didn't like to leave the house. The vet said that something must have scared you, but he couldn't find anything physically wrong at that time. He said to give it time and you would probably settle down as you recovered from the trauma. I know now that you were far from fine, you were developing cancer, The next few weeks saw some weight loss, and your behaviour was still quiet. I was told that this was likely as you dealt with things in your own way. This past month, the weight loss became serious, even though you were fed several times a day - the food went straight through you. You became weaker, jumping onto a table became harder and soon you stopped trying, in case you slipped.

Throughout all of this, one thing never changed, your good nature. You always waited by the door for me to cuddle you when I came home, loving nothing more than climbing onto my shoulders and wrapping yourself around the back of my neck, sitting there while I made my tea, or worked at the computer, your purring loud in my ears. Despite your illness, you were never ill-tempered, remaining affectionate until the end. It was my turn now to see you through the bad times, as you had seen me through mine. I made things as comfortable as I could for you, never caring about the extra cleaning up after you - it wasn't your fault.

The last few days saw a rapid deterioration in your condition, your body became skin and bone and the vet told me you were starting to suffer. Medication could no longer help, it was time to make the decision I had been dreading. It was possibly the hardest thing I have ever had to do. You never complained about your condition or let it change your nature, remaining loving and loyal until the end. This morning you sat on my knee, purring happily while I stroked you, I knew then what the vet was likely to say and wanted to say no, but I knew in my heart I couldn't let you suffer.

I know that my decision was the right one, for you, but it doesn't stop me feeling guilty. Farewell, old friend, life won't be the same without you.



(I apologise to fellow PBasers for the lack of photographic & post-processing quality in todays PaD shot. For once, that was not my main priority in choosing & preparing my picture.)