Minos

 

The months of Spring were months of recovery for M, and the last months of Minos's life. Towards the end of April, he suddenly became extremely ill, having developed blood clots in both hind legs and lungs; a condition we had been advised about, and had medicated him against. There was no hope for our suffering cat, even though I had wished that he could slip away there in the garden, we were obliged to take him to the vetinary surgeon, where the dose to bring about the end of his life was administered. 

We buried him in a cardboard coffin beside his brother, Silas, whom he had survived by seven months, in the garden, and planted pansies over his grave. The garden, despite the presence of the multitude of bees, and gatherings of little birds, seems almost unbearably quiet without him. 

I remind myself that both he and Silas lived long, full lives, lives began at the lodge in Hampshire, continued in my mother's garden in Hampshire, and concluded after many years with M and I in Somserset. I remember, also, the game Minos played with an empty snail shell in the days before his death; leaping and diving, and pouncing like a kitten despite his fifteen years. A chapter has closed. I feel intense grief for our beloved cats, but above all, an overwhelming gratitude for their having lived with us in mutual companionship and, it is not too fanciful to say, love.