Fluffy Buffy came into our lives in April 2001. We got her and her mum, Large Marge, from a cat rescue home in London and they rapidly became part of the family.
Marge, sadly, died six years later. Buffy, however, thrived and has been with us ever since. Until a few days ago.
There had been lots of deliveries and pick-ups from the house, so we didn't see much of her. But that wasn't unusual. She had morphed from a killer and a hunter into a gentle and sensitive cat. In the last five years, she'd often spend large amounts of time curled up in the house in the quietest place she could find. This usually meant sleeping on or under our bed. She'd also sleep with us during the night. It was cute. How we adored that cat.
We'd seen less of her over the last week or so, but we put that down to her hiding from the various deliveries. We had still seen her, though, and she was eating. Then a few days ago, her health basically dropped off a cliff. She curled up in my office for a day or so and she wouldn't interact. The next day we saw her outside and her back legs buckled and we took her to the vets.
The upshot was that she couldn't be saved, despite the best efforts of the vet and her team. So we put her to sleep. I've been through the process of Kitty Dignitas with two old and ill cats and one seriously injured cat. And it remains awful.
I will miss her terribly. Rest in peace, Buffy. You were one much-loved cat.
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