I found my gorgeous loving characterful BoyCat knocked down and killed on the road last night. He was only 18 months old, and we had only had him 6 months, but I loved him so much. He had gone from hiding in the corner shaking to weaving himself into every aspect of our lives. I literally can't stop crying - I just about managed to hold it in for long enough to get the DC back to school for the first day of term this morning, otherwise they (especially 11yo DS, whose special buddy he was) would have lost it too, but now I am back to square one and sobbing over photos.
Tell me it gets better. Please. We are going to have to find another cat to keep his sister company, but I don't know how long to leave it, as I don't think I could let another one into my heart quite so thoroughly just yet - it hurts too much.