Yesterday, my lovely, funny, gentle, and rather silly teddy bear of a cat, Taz, died. He was 11 and had gone from being a terribly scrawny kitten to a chunky boy who loved nothing more than a cuddle, or having his tummy tickled.
I miss him taking over the bed leaving me perched on the edge, I miss him shouting at me for food and I will miss him crawling under the duvet and lying against my stomach next winter.
The other three watched him die, and are really stressed and clingy as a result. They have hardly eaten this evening, and there is nothing I can do to make them feel better.