It's been a sad week in our household. Our cat, Becks, fell ill - he lost control over his limbs and emitted a constant high pitch purr - and spent two nights at the vet. He was diagnosed with both feline diabetes and hypoglycemia, which made treatment largely impossible,especially since he didn't respond to insulin injections. As he was only 7 years old and not overweight, we suspect his condition was actually congenital. We noticed he had trouble using his hind legs when he was very young.
So we had to say goodbye to a much loved family member because we didn't want him to suffer unnecessarily.
Becks was always very much his own pussy, he led a very independent life and liked us very much being in his domain on his terms, looking after him and feeding him when he felt like it.
When you walked in the garden he loved showing you the way, and sometimes scooting up a tree to show off he could impersonate any panther.
He was fiercely territorial and eagerly took on the neighbours' cat, Jock, in regular Mexican standoffs, with both of them wailing like fire alarms.
Becks had his tail broken, we don't know how, and it had to be amputated 4 years ago. Also he almost lost his tongue, we suspect in a fight. If he could have he would have worn a leather jacket and rode a motorbike, that's the sort of tomcat he was.
But he also loved snuggling up every night on Ewen's lap - never on mine! - and sleep between us when the weather was wet or cold during the night - but never under the blankets!
In the morning he loved scoping out a sunny spot in the garden and often slept under a tree all afternoon as well.
So we laid him to rest in a quiet corner of the garden and planted a kowhai tree on his grave.
Sleep tight, little man!