So why am I sat here in tears nearly 24 hours after my Dad rang me to say that he had to have her put down yesterday morning.
My Dad got her for us after my Mum left us when I was 9, it was something for us both to focus on and nurture I suppose. She was a gorgeous and welcome distraction in some pretty difficult times, and company for my Dad when I was doing the usual teenagers thing.
My Dad adored her and is devastated and feels horribly guilty for making the decision as it was a case of, put her out of her misery now or medicate her and she could last a day or a week or a month sort of thing. He says he feels empty. She was 16 or 17.
We are both soppy buggers as you can probably tell.
He couldn't face being with her when they did it or to take the body home, again hes feeling horrible about that too.
I love my Dad so much, and don't know what im crying most for, him or the bloody cat.
Love you Smudgexxx