Yesterday evening our lovely little cat, Stan, was hit by a car and killed. We are bereft.

I miss him so much and feel guilty at his loss. People who read this blog may know that he was hit by a car once before, a few months ago, but happily made a full recovery. Following that, we decided that we would keep him indoors at nighttime as, given he was dark furred, and that is the time when people seem to drive faster on the road that passes out house, that he would be safer if he only went out during the daytime. We would make sure that he couldn’t get out in the evenings but, as the days have shortened into autumn, he would still go out for a short while during darkness but would then come straight in when we shouted his name or, more often, by himself.

Yesterday evening I last saw him asleep on top of a box in my office and thought he was safely indoors. Unknown to me he must have come downstairs not long afterwards and gone outside before we closed up his catflap. A short while after that we heard a knock at the door and found a lady looking very upset, asking if we had a small black cat called Stan. When I said yes she told us that he’s been struck by a car and had died. My wife and I ran out to him and it was awful to find him just laid on the grass verge beside the road. I think I thanked the lady for letting us know but, to be honest, it’s all a bit of a blur. My wife was distraught and I think I was in shock.

We wrapped him in a towel, carried him back home and my wife, our two sons who still live with us, and I said our goodbyes. After that we placed him into a box and put him in the garage overnight where it is cool. I felt so bad doing this and had a paranoid idea that perhaps he was just unconcious and that we’d abandoned him – so much so that I had to go back in the garage and check later to make sure and put my mind at rest.

This morning we took his body to the vets. I didn’t like doing this, but if felt better to be doing something than leaving him in the cold garage all weekend – that felt undignified and not what I wanted for him. On Monday morning we will need to contact the pet crematorium for them to collect his little body for cremation before we can have his casket of ashes returned to us. Stan is the sixth cat we’ve had the privilege of having be part of our family over the past thirty years but the first we’ve lost suddenly like this (and also the youngest). He will sit at rest beside his brothers.

I think Stan might be the last cat we have, at least while we live in this house. The thought of putting another at risk, and the worry we would have every time they went outside, is not something I think we could bear. His loss, and the thought he might be the last cat we have for some time is terribly sad, and hard to think about. Time heals though and I need to concentrate on the joy he brought us. All cats are individuals and Stan was no exception. He was the only cat we’ve had who’s method of getting attention was to gently nip and scratch my ankles and lower legs. This could be very annoying and sometimes painful, but I would rarely get cross with him – it was just the way he knew how to get things done. I have a number of small scars on my legs as a result of his attentions and I am now so grateful for them – I’ll carry his marks for the rest of my life – but I wish he were still here to scratch me afresh.

I miss you so much Stan. I don’t know how this universe works, but I hope we might be together again one day. Love you always little man.