R was our Mum Cat, always there at the front door to welcome us when we came home, no matter how late. How excited she would be when she spotted one of her family (or many local friends) walking down the street, meowing loudly and rolling on the ground for a tummy tickle. She loved sitting in our kitchen when friends called round, listening to the gossip with a knowing expression. The back gardens and alleys of our neighbourhood were her playground. We marvelled at her balance and agility as she tightrope-walked along the fences. She was only 13, still a sprightly thing until she fell ill. We thought we had so many more years together. Had we ignored the signs? I feel so guilty that we didn’t spot something sooner and get her the right treatment before it became the crisis that would take her life. R was the beating heart of our home and the thing we all most looked forward to seeing after being away. Our house feels like a sad, empty place without her.