That’s the second time in my live I’ve had a cat tumble at my feet looking for one last ounce of affection.
She was tiny and thin. I could feel every bone. Her breathing was shallow and her body was cold, even though it was the sunniest of days.
I picked her up, held her close and listened as she began to purr. Not wanting to put her down I sit onthe floor and prop myself up against a wall and continue to stroke her.
About an hour past and eventually the purring stopped, she stiffened up and slipped away.
Being surrounded by roads and concrete, I only had one bush to put her under. There wasn’t much more I could do. I but my farewell and left her in peace.
That’s now the second time a black cat has died in my arms.
Strange fate, isn’t it.