Bad Friday

Little did I know when I wrote that last post yesterday afternoon, Sulu lay dead under our bed, possibly from a heart attack.

The night before he had seemed very slow, not his self, he was bright-eyed and alert, but not eating and not himself really. At night he pestered to be fed from about four, so he usually gets to sleep in the kitchen. But Thursday night we let him sleep on our bed. He slept right through, or at least was quiet. He ate a little at breakfast and seemed fine when I took Julie to work and then do the shopping.

I was bsy during the day, and really did not notice there was no sign of him until late in the afternoon and it had begun to get dark. I looked all around the garden, but with no luck, and then in his usual places around the house. Somehow I missed his body under the bed, and it was Julie who found him when she looked.

We took his body downstairs, wrapped it in a pillowcase and buried him in the garden. The house now seems quiet without him, he leaves a big hole in our lives, but he died happy and loved.

We'll miss you, old fella.