It's been 2 weeks since our darling cat Isobelle was put to sleep. A short illness, she hardly suffered, but I feel robbed that she was only 9 years old.
Such a kind hearted cat, and ultimately weak hearted too.
After midnight, when we left the Angell Hospital we couldn't face going home to an empty house. So we walked up and down Commonwealth Ave in Boston in the freezing cold, reminiscing about her; laughing but mostly crying into the early hours of the morning.
Every object in the house has an emotional attachment to her, and now there's just space where she used to be.
And I miss her each day. I often look up expecting her to walk into the room or jump on the bed. Each noise the house makes reminds me of her. She was always near.
Not sure if we'll ever have another cat, couldn't go through the upset of losing another one.
To everyone who said how sorry they were. Thank you.
In Anne's words