Loki has been battling cat flu ever since he came back into my life in December last year. We took him to the vet and got him on a course of steriods and whatnot, and were able to put some weight back on him and get him in much better shape. But it wasn’t something he could entirely shake off, and this weekend he went down hill very suddenly. The vet said his kidneys had shut down and he was dying. We said our goodbyes and spent the afternoon cuddling him as he slipped further away. Then Mum took him back to the vet and had him put to sleep. It was very peaceful and she was able to hold him all through the process. He’s now buried under a pomegranate tree in her garden. Another part of my life is closed and finished.
He was a lovely little cat with a distinctive white moustache, loads of personality, and a penchant for sleeping in unusual places, like this bowl of pot purri.
He was born to a lovely starving stray cat we took in. We gave the rest of the kittens away, but kept him and his Mum with their lovely grey and white coats. He was about 10 years old.
He was very affectionate, even demanding. Insisted on his morning cuddle before breakfast.
Had a tendency to look like a grouchy owl with really hairy ears!
Here he is with me and Charlie back in December.
He loved to sleep tucked away in shelves.
Here he was with Charlie this afternoon:
Goodbye little cat, sorry it had to be this way. RIP.