Leaving my beautiful kitty behind was the hardest thing I’ve had to do…

She didn’t look dead. What does dead even look like?

She looked asleep. No, she looked awake and just lying there with her eyes open. But it didn’t look odd. It just looked like she was relaxing. How could I just go and leave her there like that all by herself without me?

I wanted to pick her up, but my dad yelled at me. He thought it might, you know, make her bladder empty or whatever. But I wanted to cuddle her. I just wanted to pick her up and hold her.

I put my arm around her and put my head on hers instead.

I will never forget her lying there like that.

I will never forget walking away.

I don’t want her to be there alone like that. I don’t want to have left her. I can’t believe she really was dead.

And what did they do with her body? I should have found out. I should have asked. I can’t even bring myself to ask now. But I should have. Didn’t I even care? I just never thought about it.

I shouldn’t have let them kill her. I should have said no. I should have looked after her.

I want her to come back.

I just want her to come back.

She should be sitting at the back door, scrabbling to let me know she wants to come in. I should open the door and scoop her up and cuddle her. And she should purr like an aeroplane, and then struggle to get down so she can go and eat. And when she eats, I should hear the tinkle of her collar tag clinking on the bowl and the snorty snuffly sound she makes when she gobbles her food.

Made.

Gobbled.

Past tense. I hate the past tense.