Bill Cat has been missing for over a week, presumed dead.
We got Bill, and his brother Ted, from a rescue centre around six months after we moved to Chester. They were around 18 months when we got them, so Bill made it to over 18 years old, Over the past 12 months, he'd become increasingly doddery and pretty much deaf. I thought last Spring might be the last time he felt the rising sun warm his black fur and old bones, making him smell of digestive biscuits, but he made it through to this spring. I always hoped I'd find him curled up in a favourite place, looking as if he fell asleep, but it wasn't to be.
However, he remained my shadow to the end. When out in the garden, there'd be a rustling in the undergrowth and Bill would appear for strokes and tickles behind the ear. I miss that now. Instead, the rustling is a blackbird, tossing leaves aside to look for worms. A lovely sight, but not Bill. I see something black in the house, in the corner of my eye, but it's a hoodie, flung on the floor by small child. I hear a noise, but it's the mewling of a circling gull, and not crazy old, deaf Bill letting us know he's around.
I haven't written on the blog for several years, but it seemed an appropriate place to say goodbye to an era. Both Bill and Ted starred in LAPCBADPOUB Day and many other posts over the years.
Farewell, our biscuity shadow. Go well.
