They think he died on a Sunday but his body was only found on a Tuesday. By Wednesday the body was delivered to me in a bin liner.
When the council lady rang me at 8am on the Wednesday morning the intonation of her voice went up at the end. ‘Up’ I took as hopeful. Like perhaps he’s alive and sat with her. Her intonation should have gone down because when I rang her back full of hope and a fizz in my tummy she told me she had his body. I thanked her for her call, my throat closed up and my heart burst.
It was inevitable really living where we do on the brink of a busy dual carriageway. We lost his sister 6 months earlier in the same way and as sad as that was it wasn’t this Wednesday.
I even reprimanded myself for crying so much over a cat but there was something special about Dash. He was technically the first pet that I owned even though he was free. He was always stood waiting on the console table every time we came in from the school run. If we were later than 3:30 in the afternoon he would be stood on the doorstep waiting. He slept on my eldest daughters bed every day and on us every night and would always run to my call. We even took him on our mini breaks. Yes he was a very special cat and now he is in the ground. He was out in the rain for 2 whole days and he hated the rain, we had that in common.
I was walking with the littlest babe through the village the other day and I met a dear older lady who was chatting village life and I mentioned our cat was run down a few days earlier and after describing our sweet boy she told me an elderly woman at number 87 took great joy in seeing him each evening. She would stand outside her back door and he would make a figure eight around her legs and make her feel like she mattered. Seems our boy gave joy to lots of people but most especially to me.
Just a cat? Yes, but not to me and I’m not a cat person.