I should have written and posted this months ago, but as you know my posting is shockingly inconsistent. Life has a tendency to get in the way – the ordinary and extraordinary stuff of life; exciting, fun, outrageous, boring. But just stuff that means that any vague routine I may have, disappears out the window. Sometimes it’s utterly ridiculous like one morning before the summer holidays started and I was alone in the house writing at the kitchen table, when I heard a cacophony of flapping wings and squawking coming from the conservatory, followed by silence. On investigating I found three black cats stretched across a table looking slightly startled and as I walked towards them I discovered the reason why, as I was met with another explosive squawk uttered from a male pheasant who must have flown (or walked??) through one of the open doors. The cats cowered at the noise and the bird flew up to the ceiling fan where he sat for the better part of an hour. Quite a sight.

I eventually succeeded in coaxing him outside and he disappeared loudly, wings outstretched and flapping, still uttering his grievances as he strutted away. Over the years live mice, birds, rodents, one mole and more recently a baby weasel (very cute until it bared its teeth!) have broken up my days providing far too much distraction.

Back to our feline family. In April our oldest Queen of the cats, Holly, had to be put down at the age of 16. She belonged to the vet-in-training, GD, and became part of our family just before Christmas the year before the arrival of the Littlest. GD was just 4. Holly arrived with two of her siblings and it was the most thrilling Christmas the Tribe had ever received. GD chose the smallest kitten – an all black face, white whiskers, a white bib, white socks and a half white belly. She also had the most outrageous purr – it was incredibly loud and actually sounded like a frog! Vets always commented on it.

Six months after the arrival of the Littlest, Max, Jemima and Holly moved with us to the Middle East in the middle of a busy urban enrichment in Jumeirah just a block away from the beach. Despite the summer heat they did venture outside and would sit on the wall surrounding the compound protecting their ‘patch’ from the local strays. They would also explore the compound gardens and Holly had a habit of catching skinks. They’re a type of lizard, about a foot long, with really smooth skin, a small head and legs – they look quite snake like and are really good at hiding by burying themselves in the sand; just not from Holly. She never killed them, we just got to see skinks up close quite a lot.

Returning to the UK, the three cats happily returned to their country lives before tragedy struck. Whilst on holiday one August, with friends looking after our cats, we had a desperate call telling us that Max had been found dead in the conservatory where he and Holly had been locked in together. Max had bled out from every orifice (we assume that it must have been rat poison) whilst his sister was nearby. She must have been terrified – every August since then she always went a little bit nutty spending almost all her time including sleeping, outside.

She was an active old lady keeping the other cats in line (after Max and Jemima died, we’ve acquired rather a lot of cats) and definately ruled the roost. She spent much of her time in the kitchen running around the windowsills and kitchen counters and demanding to be picked up and cuddled. One morning in April, Father of the Tribe, found her dragging her back leg around unable to stand properly – we assume that she must have slipped, fallen off the side and landed badly. Holly appears to have paralysed her back leg.  GD was distraught.  We took Holly to the vets and she was given painkillers and an injection that might help.  Realistically though, the likelihood of movement returning to her back leg was low.  Holly returned home for the night.  The whole family was home which I was incredibly grateful for. The Littlest fell asleep on a sofa with Holly in her arms – I woke her to usher her to bed and she was besides herself with grief.  Holly has been part of her entire life.  Holly (together with her 2 feline siblings) used to share the Littlest’s bassinet when she was sleeping in the kitchen as a newborn.  To the cats, she was just one of them.  GD took over and spends the night with her beloved cat nestled in her arms.  

The following day and the weather was glorious – a cloudless blue sky, not a breath of wind.  Poor Holly was attempting to get around dragging her back leg behind her.  It was heartbreaking to watch and I made the fateful appointment at the vets for later that day.  The day was spent with Holly at the centre of it.  Blankets and cushions were laid out on the grass under a Japanese acer, the Tribe left studies behind and spent their time lying with the cats (the other joined in too), stroking their soft fur warmed in the sun.  Holly was purring, stretched out, basking in the sunshine; she was happy and if I could ever ‘choose’ a last day, it would be like this – outside, under a blue sky, butterflies flitting in the warm air, surrounded by the people that love me.  Everyone hugged her before GD, Father of the Tribe and I took her for her final visit to the vets.  The vet was brilliant and Holly died peacefully.  Back at home she was buried under the bird feeder birch where she would sleep for much of the summer.  The Boy fetches the remaining ashes of Holly’s brother Max – his first pet and the first of the Tribe’s pets to die – and they are now buried together.  It was very sweet and everyone was a bit tearful but it was all quite beautiful and the fact that we were together was a blessing.  The day before she damaged her spine, Holly caught and ate a mouse. She lived well and was much loved.  We all miss her.