Playing chicken is detrimental to a cat's health.......

Living on a main road is detrimental to a cat's life! Having a fascination with cars is also detrimental to a cat's life and Jonesy was nothing less than fearless where cars were concerned. He would sit on the front garden path and watch the world speed by until one of us spotted him and coaxed him back inside. Short of keeping all 3 of our cats inside, we knew it would be impossible to protect them all the time. The two girls, Ripley and Peanut, seemed to have a healthy respect for the roaring metal vehicles speeding by our house, but Jonesy appeared to believe totally in the fact he had 9 lives! When he was young we would spy him across the main road at some dawn hour of the morning, and in the end we would simply shut the 3 of them in the house at night so we could get some sleep without worrying. There is a strong possibility that Jonesy had some near misses, because he stopped his forays across the death trap pretty quick and roamed the side street instead. The routine in the mornings (...and his waking hour is for another post, lol!!!) meant Jonesy would wake us up, get fed and once we opened the cat flap he would scamper off into the distance. Generally, at around 6.30 am when my husband left for work and walked round to the side street to get to his work van, he would espy Jonesy either rummaging in someone's bin bag that had been left out, or nonchalantly wandering down the pavement to see what he could find. No amount of shooing or coaxing could get Jonesy to turn around to come home. His disdain of our concern was disconcerting, to say the least. Jonesy did as he wished, and no amount of human intervention could make him do anything if he didn't want to do it. If our car was parked on the drive and my husband was washing it, working on it, or simply fiddling with it as men do (!) Jonesy would float around and watch intently. If a door should happen to be open, or the boot, he would slip inside when no one was looking. Cat hair became a feature of the car seats! It took Jonesy to be hurt before he learnt that the roads were not safe for him. One day I went upstairs into our bedroom to find Jonesy lain on our bed, panting and a large wide gash in his side and his leg. He was bleeding badly and to this day we have no idea how he got home and up the stairs...we never heard him come in. I screamed for my husband and we raced down to the vets. To be honest we thought a fox or dog had gone for him, but the vet told us he had probably been caught under a car as it drove off. Cats tend to sit under cars, and he had been caught by the tyres as one pulled away. He was lucky to be alive and adrenalin had got him home. He had to have stitches and stay in. Not only was Jonesy miserable during that time, but so we were......he made it plain, even hobbling on 3 legs, that he wanted be outside and he definitely did not want to take any medicine. Would Jonesy learn from this....did he heck! Once he was better and allowed out we would still catch him down the side road, albeit rather more cautiously, but never ever across the main road. Well not that we knew of anyway!

Duckling-gate.............

How much panic could one cat cause? An awful lot, I can tell you! Having a friendly, curious, roamer for a pet kept us on our toes constantly, and even having him neutered made no difference what so ever. I was under the impression having the 'operation' would calm Jonesy down....did it heck! Cats have a particular yowl which all cat owners know means a 'present' is being deposited in a place you would definitely rather it wasn't. We got used to headless bodies being found in the garden from time to time, but 'duckling-gate' was the start of weeks of stalking Jonesy to see where he was going. Our house is fairly close to a river. By that I mean it is around 500 meters away in a straight line. Cats cant be bothered to follow pavements and roads, but simply weave their way across fences and gardens directly to the spot they are aiming for. In Jonesy's case the spot he aimed for was the river....with it's abundance of fascinating things for him to stalk! The first inkling we had that he had been down the river, was when Jonesy returned home one day after his foray into the unknown (well, the unknown to us). He was smothered in a muddy, black gunk which smelt marginally of fish. I must admit we laughed and thought he had tried to catch something and slipped into the river......thinking back about it we should have been worried, but he looked like some punk cat with his fur sticking up in all directions so we just thought it was funny! Finding a ducking running around the garden squeaking, while a cat bats it with a large paw is not so funny. Jonesy did precisely this in the weeks following. It was spring, and ducklings were being born, and Jonesy found out that they could be caught pretty easily, or at least he must have because we ended up with loads. There would be that yowl......one of us would run to the garden......Jonesy would have a duckling in his mouth.....the duckling would play dead....we would tell Jonesy he was wonderful while creeping up to him.....he would drop the duckling....it would come to life.....the duckling would run.....Jonesy would bap it.....one of us would chase them both round the garden.....eventually one of us would get the duckling *phew*. Jonesy would always lose interest pretty quick at this point, and go off and wash himself in the sun, leaving us to place the duckling in a box and cart it off to a wonderful lady who lived in Southbourne. This lovely lady took in hurt birds, orphan birds, all sorts and nursed them. We got to know her very well as a procession of ducklings made it to her house. Unfortunately, if none of us were home the duckling would meet an unfortunate end, meaning a disgusting mess for my husband to clear away, but on the whole we learnt to run when he yowled!! Obviously Jonesy had a particular route back from the river which involved going past people's houses, as one day he came home (without a duckling) with a note attached to his collar. The note said "did you know your cat keeps catching ducklings". Hmm mm yes we did, who are you, shall we attach an answer to Jonesy's collar and why not give us your telephone number? We never did reply as most of the ducklings Jonesy brought home survived, but to this day we have no idea who wrote the note.............

One bump and Jonesy was born........

Jonesy cat was born in our car, right in the middle of Christchurch high street! His poor mum (named Peanut.....so called because she is a tiny ginger cat, the size of a peanut, or so it appeared to be when she was a kitten.) was struggling with her labour, and the vet told us to come straight down. We placed Peanut in a box on a cushion and I held the box on my lap as we raced through town. One bump in the road later and Jonesy was born. My husband took one look and said "ah, Jonesy"!! I suppose being a fan of the first Alien film, which had a  ginger cat called Jonesy in it, may have had something to do with the name, lol? He was a big bruiser of a  kitten, and made his presence felt from the word go. Peanut had two other kittens in the same litter and they were unusual shades of peachy ginger and cream females, so we decided we would keep one of them.When they were 6 weeks old the couple who had said they would take two kittens came to visit..... and fell in love with the two girls. My husband and I looked at each other and decided we would keep Jonesy, and, to be frank, it was the best, most wonderful decision we made. Funny how things turn out! It seemed his mum, Peanut, did not agree. I suppose one big, demanding tom kitten and one tiny ginger fluff probably don't mix...? Jonesy also showed his "I will be boss" tendencies to Ripley, our other cat (yes....that film Alien had an influence on her name, too). She would whack him round the ear regularly, but he never learnt to stay away, and would creep up and pounce on her with great delight. The first few months of his life were filled with hissing and squawking and paws flying, as all 3 cats battled to become "Top cat". Jonesy won!

He was demanding, loud in his attention seeking ways, and generally a disobedient kitten......but all the family fell in exasperated love with him......

In good company......

I think I am in good company!!! Since Jonesy has died I have needed my Jelly cat to cuddle, and to shake sometimes so I can hear the bell. It's like I am invoking the memory of my cat...and it certainly makes the 2 girl cats sit up and look when they hear that bell. They probably think Jonesy is back to haunt them, lol? Sometimes I have even been known to hold the Jelly cat tight and put the paws on my shoulder. Daft, but it reminds me of how I used to carry Jonesy around. Shades of the 'mad cat woman' coming out again, me thinks? The good company I am in is that of Lorraine Chase, currently appearing on 'I'm a celebrity, get me out of here'. She has Tedwood, a teddy bear that is very dear to her, and I have just read an article about why she is so attached to it. Okay, so my Jelly cat is to remind me of Jonesy, a cat, and her Tedwood is to remind her of the love of her life, John Knight, but we both have these 'toys' for similar reasons. When I read the item I fully understood why she has this need to have Tedwood.......
Most people lose their attachment to their favourite stuffed toys decades before they are eligible to collect their pension.

But Lorraine Chase, 60, was left in floods of tears after DJ and former children’s TV presenter Pat Sharp threatened to kidnap and burn her teddy bear Tedwood.The crisis, now dubbed Tedwood-gate, saw contestants on ITV reality show I’m A Celebrity… Get Me Out Of Here! rowing over the cuddly toy.friends revealed Tedwood is a poignant reminder to the actress of the 'love of her life' John Knight, who died of leukaemia in 1997.

The couple had been together for 20 years.Brian Crawford, owner of the Tramp club in London, who gave her the bear, said Tedwood travels everywhere with her.

He told the Mail: ‘Tedwood means absolutely everything to Lorraine.

‘She has been through a lot of heartache in her life and of course the most awful was when her partner of twenty years, John Knight, died of leukaemia in 1997. 

‘She had this teddy which meant the world to her and she was devastated when she lost it.‘She is my absolute dearest and closest friend so I bought her this stuffed Steiff teddy to cheer her up.

‘She was absolutely overjoyed and there were a lot of tears shed when I gave him to her.

‘It goes with her everywhere. Lorraine and I have flown first class to tropical islands and little Tedwood has been assigned his own seat in the plane.

Mr Crawford added: ‘It is a shame the other campmates are attacking her for being so attached to the little teddy because she has been through a lot in her life and she is the most lovely person with a truly good heart.

‘She lost the love of her life to cancer and I think her feelings for him were carried over onto the ‘Ted’.'

The actress, who shot to fame as the face of Campari’s iconic advertising campaign in the 1970s, told the Mail earlier this year about the bear.

She said: ‘Tedwood, my little bear, was a replacement for a very dear bear who’d been my companion for 15 years.He was given to me by a partner, but when that era came to an end I had to give him back because it would have been too painful to keep him.

‘I was so distraught I rang my dearest friend, Brian Crawford, who sent Tedwood to replace him. He’s proof that I have good friends and that life goes on.’ 

Her friend Julia Fieldhouse, who has flown to Australia to support her on the ITV reality show, added: ‘Tedwood goes wherever Lorraine goes. He’s been all over the world, including my house on numerous occasions.

‘However, he’s normally very well behaved. He takes his position on a bedroom dressing table and stays there until he departs to the next location.'

Miss Chase has rarely spoken about her relationship with advertising director John Knight, only saying: ‘His death hit me extremely hard.’

It may seem funny to some people, but we all deal with grief in different ways, and I am glad that Lorraine Chase has found some way of remembering someone who was very close to her. In my next posts I promise I will start to remember Jonesy as I should do.......his quirks, his amusing moments, his annoying moments, his character.....the way I want to remember him!! The way he deserves to be remembered, and hopefully this will stop me feeling so angry. I know it wont stop the tears, but it will make me smile more often than cry, and that must be a good thing?

Coming home......

I think this is working! I cried my eyes out last night after writing my blog, but today I feel a little better. It must be the fact that I am letting my thoughts guide the words I write. I know I am really upset inside about Jonesy dying, and I also know I feel totally daft. My husband came into the room as I was crying last night, and when he asked what was the matter I just sobbed and sobbed. I told him about the blog, and why I was doing it. We hadn't talked much about the decision we had made, or Saturday 22nd October, and to be honest I hadn't realised how my husband has been feeling either. I have been caught up in my own 'coping with grief' time, while he became the 'brave man who doesn't get upset'. It helped to talk, and I also said how angry I have been. The memories are too raw for us to chat properly about how we felt, and how we feel now, but that will come in time.

For days after Jonesy died I wanted to go to the vet and fetch him back. It was like an itch inside me, and I had to constantly suppress the need to phone the surgery. We had been told Jonesy's ashes would take about 10 days to 2 weeks to be returned to us, and it made me feel very restless during that time. I think I just wanted him home where I could feel his presence. Jonesy had been such a large part of our lives that, even though we have 2 other cats, the house felt empty. It still does now. My husband had to collect the cat box at the end of the week, and I received a text to warn me Jonesy was home. He had been cremated on the Monday so it would not have been possible to get him home as I had wanted to anyway, though I didn't know that.....I walked through the door after work and saw a cardboard box on the dining room table. Before I even took my coat off  I opened the box....and cried again. My husband had picked the most glorious, beautiful, wooden figure of a sleeping cat curled up, for Jonesy's ashes. It was more than I had imagined, and as I type this I can see it near me on the coffee table. To anyone coming into the room it simply looks like a piece of art, but we know what it holds, and it is very precious. As for Jonesy's collar and disc? Well that is round the neck of my jelly cat, bought for me many years ago by my husband. Every year at Christmas one of the presents he gives me is cat orientated. Jelly cat lays at the foot of my side of the bed....it is ginger and soft and it is my therapy at the moment. Jelly cat therapy has kept me comforted over the last few weeks. The bell on the collar tinkles when I move Jelly cat.....a familiar sound that makes me happy.

Anger...anger....anger.......guilt....guilt....guilt....

The day after the vet confirmed Jonesy was not going to last even 3 weeks, I text my husband and asked him to go and talk to the vet. We wanted Jonesy put to sleep at home, with us there to hold him. The vet explained what would happen, and the arrangement was made for Saturday. One small injection, and he would sleep forever. We could change our mind at any time...........For the rest of the week Jonesy was the most pampered cat ever. He ate like a king.....tuna, prawns, anything he fancied. He was cuddled and carried, and probably smothered in so much love that, although I want to cry thinking about it, I can also smile at the memories. We took photos and we just spent lots of time with him. It was a good few days. Jonesy's breathing was getting slightly more laboured, and we knew he was declining so every minute with him was a joy. The vet rang Saturday morning and again told us we could change our minds, that she and a nurse would not be coming until near 4pm as they had some emergencies to deal with first. I was glad. It would give us time ...... but in retrospect it was the worst to happen. The day felt heavy, like you were waiting for something to happen. Well sadly we were, weren't we? It was a glorious sunny day. Jonesy went outside and we sat with him.....and as I was outside, around 3.30pm I heard the phone ring. I knew it was the vet. My husband came out and I told him I knew. I watched Jonesy race to his food dish as the doorbell rang and the vet and nurse came in. The laughed as they looked at him and then at the box they had bought to take his body away it. It was way too small. I thought...you stupid idiot, you only saw him a few days ago. How did you not realise it would be too small! I deliberately didn't look at the dish with the syringe in.....As the vet asked again if we were sure, my husband looked at me and I nodded. It was to be beautiful.....music as I held him...he would fall asleep....a small injection....I now know this blog will help me get my rage out....because when I think about it I am so angry I want to scream. It didn't happen the way I thought. The vet and nurse asked for a table to place Jonesy on, to place a catheter in his leg ready for the injection. As he was in the sun lounge my husband told them to use the table there. I wanted to say no, but it happened too quick, as the nurse took him and held him for the catheter to be positioned. I kept thinking....he never is on this table.....it should be the dining room table because he always jumped on that, even when I told him off. I was so angry with my husband for telling them to use that table, but I can never tell him because I know he is also missing Jonesy. I do want to shout at him though! How stupid is that? It's how I feel now but I know it will pass. The nurse had to hold him tight so he didnt get hurt as the catheter went it. I wanted to hold him as they did it, but felt helpless to ask, so I talked to him..telling him "Jonesy it's okay....it's okay Jonesy". He turned his head once and meowed. Such a sad helpless meow. The other two cats came into the room as it was happening and I asked the vet if it was okay. She said animals often know what is happening....I could smell the antiseptic smell of the catheter, and if I could so could they, and so could Jonesy. He was scared, I know he was scared as he didn't know what was happening. When it was inserted I grabbed him, and held him to my shoulder. I wanted to run away and take Jonesy with me, but the vet asked where we would like to be. I just held Jonesy and said the sitting room. I had imagined holding him and talking to him while he fell asleep...as I stood still in the sitting room, and said I was ready, the vet gave Jonesy the injection. My husband had turned to adjust the music. Within a second or two I felt Jonesy's body go limp. His head slipped down and his body felt heavy. .I turned to look at his head as it sank, and inside my head I shouted out that I hadn't talked to him as he died. I hadn't soothed him. I knew he had known what was happening. How scared he would have been. How could I do this. It was too quick. I needed more time. But I still thanked the vet as I sobbed. It was polite to do so. They left us alone for a while and we both held him close...I cherish that moment but it was so sad. There are things to be checked afterwards, and obviously vets have other animals to look after so we didn't have the luxury of time. I am sure if we had asked then we could have had longer, but if you have never experienced anything like this you don't know what to do or say. I do now.... There is a lot I would do different. We let the vet and nurse take Jonesy away in his cat box, wrapped in a towel of ours. We kept his collar and disc and said goodbye. The arrangements had been made for Jonesy to be cremated alone, and for us to have his remains back in a box, a special box my husband had chosen. As my husband closed the front door, I lay my head in my arms on the kitchen work top and  howled my grief. The 2 other cats had vanished. My husband held me close, and all I could think about was that I wanted Jonesy back, and I wanted him back now. I could run after the vet and say I had made a mistake...........but I stayed still and cried instead.

Jonesy cat......

On the evening that my husband told me Jonesy was dying I cried......and cried......and cried. I know it is daft to do that over just a cat, but I had no idea it would hit me so hard. I shocked myself with the reaction I had to the news! Jonesy seemed perfectly okay, and pretty nonchalant that we were having a breakdown over his illness. He ate just fine, drank, trotted about meowing for attention, and curled up with me on the sofa. Over the last few weeks Jonesy had got into the habit of standing on his hind legs and stretching up my legs when he wanted attention, so I would reach down and pick him up, and hoist him over my shoulder. In fact I would end up carrying him around like a baby, with his front legs dangling, as he gazed about in satisfaction at the world around him. He had become one pampered cat indeed...... and everyone in the family would tease me about it. I would snuggle my head into his fur and mutter to him......I had become the 'mad cat woman' it seems (or so my sons and hubby told me, lol) It was important for me to go and talk to the vet myself, even though i knew she would give the same diagnosis. I had questions I wanted to ask. I needed the vet to tell me face to face. We made an appointment very quickly and took Jonesy back with us. I think, deep down, I wanted the vet to say there was a mistake.....that Jonesy was actually okay....but as she checked him out again, and I watched her, I knew what she would say. The illness was making him retain fluids, which in turn was making his body swell and compress his organs. He was putting on weight rapidly, even though his limbs were thin. His stomach had become round and hard,  and as the vet explained about the organs becoming compressed, I realised that where I had thought Jonesy was being cute with his 'sighs' recently, it was actually because his lungs were being squashed by the fluid. He was finding it hard to breath properly. How had I missed that? My husband had asked for diuretics to help, and the vet had provided us with them, even though she said in the end it would not help. Very gently the vet explained that we were going to have to make a hard decision soon. Jonesy would become uncomfortable, and it was important for him to have a good quality of life.....therefore we needed to think about having him put to sleep. I was due a week's holiday 3 weeks ahead and I mentioned that. As the vet told me Jonesy would not make it that far, I began to cry. I couldn't help it. I just felt so sad and so angry. It was the beginning of the week....I was due to have the weekend off work. As we came home I knew that I would not wish to be at work the day after Jonesy died. I knew in my heart that the coming weekend would be the right time.  Cuddling Jonesy later, I said very little to the family. What was there to say.

Looking on the internet....don't!

I think we all knew Jonesy was ill, really ill, but deep down we also hoped he would get better. In fact I know it never occurred to me that he would decline so rapidly. Maybe that was for the best, although I certainly don't feel that way right now. Once Jonesy started to have blood in his urine two days after finishing his antibiotics I did look on the internet. I read all about cystitus and how it makes a cat unwell.....yep I knew that.....I also read that if untreated, especially in male cats it could lead to a blockage and cause death within 24 hours. Yep I understood that. Then I scrolled down, like you do, and found out all about kidney failure. Well that was okay because one of the classic signs was weight loss and over the last few days Jonesy has positively got rotund....he was eating well and drinking, going to the loo, and his tummy was looking as plump as a lazy tom cat's should! The vets sent off a blood sample and it came back to show he did have a urine infection but they wanted further tests done....would we pay. Yep we would. Jonesy had an injection to fast track strong antibiotics into his body but it didn't really seem to help. .  Then I went back to the internet and read all about Proteinuria. Jonesy had some of the symptoms although he was putting on weight rather fast around his middle. Back to the vets my husband went, along with Jonesy, while I stayed at work confident the vet would give him more antibiotics. I knew the vet needed to discuss things and when my husband text me to say he would tell me more when I came home from work, I just thought "okay, Jonesy needs an operation...or something". I waited all day. As my husband collected me in the car from work I peeked at his face and kept silent. Half way home I could hold it in no longer. "What did the vet say?". There was a pause and my husband's voice cracked as he quietly said "Jonesy has weeks to live".

Let's get the bad stuff out of the way.......

On October 22nd 2011 at about 4pm in the afternoon Jonesy was put to sleep by the vet. I wanted to type those words and get them out of the way. I actually wanted to put something more dramatic like....'Jonesy was killed by the vet'....or....'Jonesy was given a lethal injection'....or....'Jonesy died'....but it would have shown my anger. That anger is something I didnt know I felt so badly until now. I think it has been bubbling under the surface of my mind for a little while, but I have managed to suppress it. All part of the grieving precess I expect, and I hope I can get it out of my system here rather than blurting it out at some point? Time and time again I realise we just don't talk about death enough in this country.Whether it is the death of a human or an animal it has an effect on a person's life if that 'body' was part of their family...part of their life. Just because it is an animal, a beloved pet, a death should not diminish the feelings of grief.
Anyway, I had to get the calender to check the exact date of Jonesy death, not because I had forgotten, but because I wanted to know. I have counted the weeks and it is only just over 4 weeks ago. I am amazed it is such a short time ago, but also amazed it is so long ago. We are only November. He died in October...last month in fact. I think i am torturing myself by writing that, but as I write it I have smiled. Maybe torturing yourself is part of the grieving process too? Gosh just how far can I go in my analysis of grieving over the death of a pet?
Jonesy had only been really ill for a couple of weeks. At the beginning of the year Jonesy had a urine infection, probably cystitis, and he went on a course of antibiotics. Who knew a cat could get cystitis? Who knew a male cat could get cystitus? Well he recovered, and spent the summer lazying around in the front garden (more on that in a later post) or on the neighbour's recycling box, neatly positioned to catch the afternoon sun. We, (the family) put it down to him being an older cat....a 15 year old male tom cat who had got into scrapes during his life, and was stiffening up and slowing down. All of us expected him to grow older and get fatter and eat lots and sleep lots. After all that's what tom cats do!
Around the beginning of October I came home from work one afternoon, on a half day, and Jonesy used the cat litter tray. He tended to go outside most of the time so I thought he had been 'caught short' and went to check if it needed cleaning out. As I looked closer at the white cat litter crystals I realised the spot when he had urinated was a pink colour. Jonesy seemed fine so I phoned my husband, saying that maybe we should get him checked out as he could have his urine infection back. Jonesy went outside very shortly after and urinated on the grass again, and sure enough when i went and looked the area was pink. Again Jonesy seemed fine and happily ate, drank and snuggled up to me as usual as I sat on the sofa. He also managed to annoy our 2 other cats as per normal, by wanting to sit where they sat or by following them about. Jonesy was 'boss cat' and the 2 girls knew it well. Mind you he often got a swift paw round the head if they managed to get one in before escaping! That evening my husband laid some paper and tissue by the front door. One of the girls, and Jonesy from time to time, seemed to take great delight in urinating by the door instead of using the cat litter. It didn't matter if the cat litter was clean....once they got into the habit it was hard to break. The paper was the lesser of two evils.....having to scrub a carpet was definitely the worst! I will always remember my husband calling me at around 9.30 that evening, to come and look at the paper. The note of controlled panic in his voice made me rush.....Jonesy had urinated on the paper and it was red. It wasn't pink, it was bright scarlet red. My husband rang the vet straight away. Jonesy, meanwhile, trotted off to munch on some food, totally indifferent to our worry. The vet asked some questions...was he eating, was he drinking, did he seem okay......ie, as pet owners you always recognise if your pet is under the weather.....and the answer was yes. Jonesy was eating, drinking, meowing at us for attention as usual. In fact he seemed totally fine except for the lurid red urine. Okay said the vet, bring him in first thing in the morning, but feel free to ring if we were worried about him.
I told work that I had to go to the vets as my cat was ill.......9.20 appointment.....and I am lucky I have an understanding manager. It took maybe 10 minutes. Jonesy had another urine infection. He needed antibiotics. He didn't appear to have any lumps. He seemed fine and had no temperature. In fact he probably had cystitis again. One course of antibiotics later and Jonesy's urine was back to normal colour. For a day or so, at least. Then it came back. I should not have looked on the internet. Don't look on the internet.

You think you know......don't be fooled!

Nothing prepares you for death. At the age of 51 I finally understand that. Everyone thinks they know what it involves, how you will feel, how to cope with your grief, what to do...even I did, until Jonesy became ill. Jonesy was my cat. My wonderful, naughty, demanding,' loving you whatever you said or did', cat! If I am honest, part of me deep inside feels a little guilty that I am going to write a blog all about the death of a pet. Will I feel this bad when my parents die? If I feel this much grief, that even as I type these words my eyes well up with tears so badly that I cannot see the screen for an instant, what will I be like at that moment? Well, let me tell you that I was not ready to decide my cat needed to die, but I also understand that I probably never would have been ready for that decision, ever!
As I take a deep breath I hope that this blog will help me to regain the happy memories that are somewhere in my mind. I know they are there, but I don't think I have reached the stage where they can take me past the deep unhappiness that grabs me when I least expect it. Like now for instance. Do you know what? I just didn't realise how much I loved my cat.