On Easter Sunday I lost my beautiful little boy, Bomber. He was slaughtered by a maniac on a motorbike who didn't even stop and left him in the road - although he did come back later, twice, looking for the body. I was out there then and saw him, but didn't twig that he was the one until after he zoomed off, again at high speed... I was too stunned. At the time of Bombers death, I had seen the same bike flash past the living room window and heard him gunning the engine up the hill.
Cats have strong characters, but Bomber was exceptional. Of all the cats and dogs I have had, none have affected me so profoundly as he did - all in the 6/7 short months we had him here. Anyone seeing us together would have seen that we were devoted to each other - far more than you normally see between cat and human. There was none of the aloofness you usually get with cats, he was my little boy and I was his human.
I miss everything about him........ the sweet earthy smell of his fur (which even my smoke addled senses are still picking the occasional whiff of as he always slept on my fleece jacket), the way he would jump on my lap and do a little twisting leap, trusting me to catch him when he landed on his back... the way he would look into my eyes while I was giving him a belly rub, and he would reach up with his paw to stroke my beard..... The way he would put a paw on each shoulder and rub his cheek to mine when he wanted hugs.... his little ronaldoesque stepovers when playing with a golfball..... His being a rock star, playing my guitar with his teeth if I didn't put it away.... I even miss the 5:30 wakeups when he'd reach under the quilt and claw my feet, and him leaping on me soaking wet, stinking of the wild garlic outside our house. And that pnuematic drill purr.........
I've felt grief before, but not like this, not with humans or animals. It's unbearable. I feel robbed of the 15-20 years I should have had with him. He would have grown into an amazing creature.
He was my little lionheart.
