This is Hattie, born 1996, who died on 21 September 2013, at home, in her basket, peacefully, in a deep sleep.
When a much-loved family pet dies we need to decide what to do next.
But we kept Hattie lying in her basket for a day and a night, nestled in her blanket, where she died.
And it was not macabre, but beautiful, and consoling.
There is something sacred about being in the presence of a peaceful death, after a life well-lived.
Lying there in the stillness and quietness of letting go, her fur still felt soft and her body pliable, and I imagined several times that she was still breathing.
She has filled 17 years of our lives with fun, laughter and affection. She has beguiled us, outwitted us, annoyed us, delighted us and demonstrated something powerful: absolute persistence wins.
I blogged about Hattie a while ago. There, I wrote about the perpetual fascination of cats.
And now Hattie has again demonstrated something powerful about this life.
The gracefulness and the quietness and the beauty of letting go.
Then, all that’s left is love.