Fairwell, King Bo.

Life is all about accidents, twists, turns and nearly-was and nearly was nots.

Boris had a life full of these - found as a kitten in a puddle, named Craig, looked after by Dundonians, about to be left alone in a flat before being saved by me and re-named Boris.

He lived with me for 6 months before Bry came along and then he came everywhere with us. He was diagnosed with cancer just before I had Arlo and given 6 months to live. He got better, lived another 3 years before we had Ida and lived through her birth and early months.

He was a brilliant cat. He was an old cat and he was an unhappy, vomiting cat.

We booked a camping holiday and my friend Katy offered to look after him. 2 weeks turned to 3 weeks and he hadn't been sick or unhappy once. 3 weeks turned to 5 and then Bry had his operation and 5 weeks turned to 4 months and then we realised that Boris was happier with Katy than with us. Weird when you think that Arlo tried to ride on him like a horse and Ida chased him trying to pull his fur.

2 years on and Boris and Katy made a pretty amazing team. She kept us updated every couple of weeks on how he was doing and the updates were always really happy - she gave him a lovely life in his latter years.

In the last few months he wasn't doing well and today Katy and I made the very difficult decision to end his suffering. I am really sad, but it was the right thing to do. Even though I'll always remember our grief and the sight of Boris leaving, it was the right thing to do.

Why is it that doing the right thing can so often feel like the very worst?

I am so grateful to Katy for taking Boris on. For being there when we couldn't and for giving him a peaceful, comfortable and cosy end of days. None of us realised how much she'd love him - but he was impossible not to love.

Officially The. Best. Cat. Ever.

Lovely, fluffy wee beast x ❤