Knockin' on heaven's door

As so often, Bomble lies on the red sofa, but this time he's wrapped in a rug and he doesn't move. Bomble himself has gone, and left his body behind for us to bury.

This morning Bomble wasn't weaving around my ankles when I got up, late for work. He wasn't in the front garden or any other obvious place. Steve noticed Bomble had been sick in the passage, and went out to the back garden where he found Bomble staring into space. Poor cat, he kept going to the flowerbed to try and poo, but was crying with pain at the effort and not getting anywhere. He could not eat, either. At one point he dragged himself up the stairs and collapsed on the bath mat. I had to move him because I was about to have a shower. Steve said he'd take him to the vet, so I kissed him goodbye to him in the garden, where he'd retreated once again.

As soon as I got home at 5pm and saw CleanSteve's face, I knew that he'd had to have him put down. The vet had said he had an inoperable tumour in his gut, and the procedure couldn't wait. I didn't mind that I wasn't there, I was very glad that Steve was. We just keep imagining that we see him everywhere, out of the corner of our eyes, and in my case I just keep crying all over again.

We'd had Bomble for 15 years, adopted as a rescue cat with several previous owners and a history of being rehomed. As soon as we met him, we knew we wouldn't be sending him anywhere. Asian cats ( a group that includes the British Bombay, of which he was an example) are sociable and seek out company. They have been described accurately as half dog, half cat, half monkey. Bomble was all three. Heat-seeking and height-seeking until arthritis took over, he was always to be found in the middle of any action, whether it was building the cabin in our garden in 2008, moving the grow-mate earlier this year, or doing a jigsaw. He'd sit right in the middle of the jigsaw board, and occasionally flick pieces at me, or toss them on the floor. As for the keyboard, that was a heated sleeping pad designed specifically for cats, wasn't it?

He also had supersoft fur and was not a shedder. Asians aren't. He was noisy and demanding at times, but didn't miaow like a Siamese. In recent years, he had become severely arthritic, and we'd begun to notice that he was losing his sight as well as his hearing and his marbles. It was time for him to go. He had given us a fright during the third lockdown when he suddenly couldn't walk for a couple of days, but he got over that and recovered, to our complete amazement. He also had a long-term virus that made him sneeze, for which he needed regular injections of antibiotics. Poor old fellow. He was a trooper.

I'm glad that some of my friends, relatives and the little boys have been allowed to visit our house in recent months, so they have been able to see him. He wasn't just well loved by our household: his fan base was international. I've used this picture before as a blip, but I hope no one minds.

Rest in peace, Bomble. We miss your gentle, inquisitive spirit.