Bye Bye Trixie

Three years ago after my housemates moved to Australia and my sister came to stay for the summer I decided that I needed a furry companion.
Living in a flat at the time I wanted a house cat - one that doesn't go out much. And I wanted an old cat. Kittens are for houses where they can run around and go outside and there are people to play with them. Old cats that find themselves without an owner are difficult to re home. I wanted to give a loving home to an old cat, and give it love, comfort and companionship in its last years.
So at the end of August 2005 Trixie came to live with us. Her owner had gone into a care home and so she needed a new place to live. Her paperwork was immaculate and her vaccination certificate said she had been born in March 1991. This cat was already 14.
She was great fun, enjoyed playing with bits of string, and anything that she could bat across the floor. She wasn't much of a huggable cat, but she liked company on her own terms.
The first night she stayed with us we kept he in the sitting room as instructed. Periodically throughout the night Alice and I could hear her wailing. We'd take it in turns to go in to see what was wrong. We were met by a low warm rumble of her purring and rubbing round our legs. She was lonely.
As she grew to know the flat her favourite place to sleep at night became the bed. On top of us. Or on our heads, or on our pillows. She knew when breakfast time was and was very good at walking on us and giving our heads a gentle tap to ask us to get up and wield the tin opener! In the day she lounged on the big fleecy cushion by the radiator, occasionally letting out little meows as she stretched and caught her paw on the hot metal.
The summer after James moved in he decided that she should go outside. So she did, enjoying the grass, and dust of the garden. She never wanted to stay out long, and would occasionally pop out to see if the outside world was still there. As she got older she did less, and played less and became more grumpy. She was my grumpy old lady.
She wasn't very happy when we moved, and she became noticeably older. She found stairs difficult and was more grumpy.
When we went on holiday last week she went to a cattery. It was sad dropping her off and she looked so old.
Last Monday the cattery phoned and I had a very tough conversation with them. Trixie had become more poorly. She was a very sick cat and we had to make a decision about what to do.
With very sad hearts James and I decided that it would be kinder to let her go there and then, rather than hospitalising her for a week until we came home. The vet who saw her said he thought she had a brain tumour.
It was very sad, and I was upset. I am still sad and the house feels a bit empty. I keep expecting to see her in the mornings or hear her on the laminate downstairs. But she's gone. After 17 and half years.
Tidying away the kitchen I found some cat food. Senior, it said on it, for cats aged 8 plus. It struck me that Trix had been Senior for more than half her life, and that's pretty good. I am glad that she came to live with us and was part of our family. I loved her very much, but I'm glad she's out of pain. H x

Time to turn the page

On Friday I will leave my job after nearly four years. I have had this date on my diary for months now, and I have known I was leaving since 28th November last year. But as I sit here now it all feels a bit real, a bit odd and I am unsure. On Sunday in church as I was praying I had an image come into my mind. I was standing on a huge book. I looked behind me and I could see the fold down the spine and the facing page in the distance. I was quite close to the edge. It felt like I had to step off so that the page could turn over. I was scared but I knew that God was there with me. And that's how I feel. People ask me if I am excited about SCITT but I am not ready to look at that yet. It's on the next page.
I have recycled masses of paper, sorted out files, written handover documents, deleted emails and computer files, handed over the keys to my filing cabinet and now I'm sitting here reflecting.
What does four years of a job look like?
The information in these files cannot possibly convey the conversations I've had, the relationships I've built, the anger I've felt, the good times I've had. It's even hard to portray the progress I've made. What I do is very qualitative, its been about changing attitudes, making links, talking to people and getting people to think differently.
I have changed enormously in the last four years. I started here at the end of August 2004, aged just 24, only one 'real' job under my belt. I have had to change and develop, learn a new jargon. I have grown to understand how things work, how to behave in meetings, how to address professionals and service users. I've learnt to work with people I don't like and to like people I work with. I have learnt not to take things personally. A few weeks ago I found myself chairing part of a meeting with some fairly high level professionals in it. I had a heated discussion with a service user who upped and left saying "I am not being insulted by some young girl." And as he walked out, I held my cool, took a deep breath and carried on. Some young girl I am not anymore.
I am leaving this job as a young professional woman. I hope that I have earned respect from my colleagues. I hope that I have been able to share some of what I have learnt, and worked on. I hope that I have been a good and amiable colleague. I hope that whoever comes in to do this job after me (Watch out for the advert in Wednesday's Guardian, as well as 4 other jobs) has energy and passion and refuels this project to achieve its potential. My time here is done. I am finished. Time to turn the page.
Hannah