The moment you joined our family, you came barrelling out of your carrier, ready to explore your new home and terrorise the other neighbourhood cats.

You grew up to be the most beautiful — and grumpy — boy, affectionately (to me, anyway) known by many as the Beast of Bournemouth. Your favourite hobbies included savagely fighting with your siblings and, in your old age, monitoring our resident mole in the garden for hours on end. My favourite hobby was taking photos of you while you were trying to sleep.

Bundling you into the car this morning, I was struck by a sense of deja vu, remembering the same journey so many years ago when we were told you were unlikely to make it. 

Remarkably, you did pull through, and we were gifted with another decade of your cantankerousness.

Although we were desperate for it to be the same outcome today, we were forced into a goodbye after fifteen years of your company. It feels strange to only realise today that you’ve been with me for half of my life, and stranger still to know that I’ll never call your name in that annoying way again.

I hope you spend your time in the afterlife happily doing what you do best: beating up any and all other cats.

Rest in peace, my boy. 

24.10.24