Those of you who follow me on Twitter will probably know this already but we lost one of our lovely kitty cats the other week, poor little Marmalade was hit by a car. A neighbour who we have never even spoken to before saw it happen and luckily guessed that he belonged to us. We must be known as that house full of children and cats… After the car hit Marmalade, they just carried on driving (how could they not have realised that they had hit him? Or worse still not even cared enough to stop?) Anyway, our neighbour very kindly wrapped him up and brought him home to us. I don’t think that I’ve ever been so grateful for kindness of strangers.
Poor little Marmalade. We were just heartbroken. Having four children and four cats meant that quite organically, each child claimed their ‘own’ cat and Marmalade was my teenage daughter’s favourite. She loved him to bits, as we all did, but she really really loved him to bits. She took it really hard when we broke the news and I know people bang on about how having pets is a good life/death lesson for children, and I guess it is, but as a parent that doesn’t make it any easier seeing the poor things cry themselves to sleep at night. It’s devastating. But time is a great healer. And in time we have come to terms with the sad news even though we still miss him lots.
But that’s just us. His human family. And this is where I am in serious danger of wandering into Crazy Cat Lady territory (if I’m not there already of course) You see, Marmalade was the first born kitten of our cat Pixie. When Pixie had kittens just one short year ago, we kept three of them – Marmalade, Duchess and Elvis. They were a proper little family. Pixie was – is – the most amazing mother to them. And instinctively, they knew that something was wrong which I know must sound bonkers but they really did. They wandered from room to room like they were looking for him. Then at night time, all three of the cats would sit on the front doorstep like they were waiting for Marmalade to come home. It was truly heartbreaking to see. But weeks on, poor Pixie still sits at the door night after night. She must miss her baby like mad and obviously she doesn’t know where he has gone. It’s awful. I wish I knew how to make her feel better but the poor thing is clearly heartbroken. I only hope that in time her grief might ease like it seems to have done for Duchess and Elvis. We are spoiling her to death with fish and cuddles but she really isn’t her usual happy self and it’s so hard to see the poor thing so sad. She just looks so lost.
When I went to find a photo for this post, I couldn’t find one of Marmalade on his own which only goes to show just what a lovely big softy he was. In every photo he is snuggled up to someone – cat or human! I particularly love this photo of him and Pixie though. Just so precious. RIP little Marmalade.