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