A cat's life

The day after your birthday is always a bit of a downer, and when you also have to say goodbye to one of your best friends too…well, you can mark that down in your diary with a massive colon + left hand bracket. Put it in 1000pt font in fact.

That was what happened today, as our beloved eldest cat Seth finally had to admit defeat against illness. For you non-animal lovers, you might as well log off now, as I come to praise our furry friend in this blog post.

Cats have risen to prominence on the internet over the last few years. Amusing LOL-captions and the ability to play keyboards are great. But Seth didn’t need that – because he was too busy cuddling and spreading love.

This was a cat who we met over four years ago, when he was picked up by the RSPCA wandering the streets with a dodgy hip and nasty skin complaint on his back. No-one knew where he had come from, but he knew where he wanted to be. His first act was to bound up to me, climb on my shoulder, and grab hold for dear life - and from then on he was family.

Given the fact he had been on his own he could have been forgiven for dis-trusting humans, but he clearly had a better nature than most of us ever could. From day one he wanted to cuddle and to be cuddled. He would follow you from room to room, rarely savaging carpets or sofas when he could spend his energy climbing up higher so he could get you to rub his head, chin, back or belly.

When he was happy, you could hear it. Seth had something in his throat that gently rasped – the happier he was, the more he rasped and coo-ed, sounding like a high-pitched pigeon (ask anyone who met him) – when you heard that noise, you knew he was totally happy.

And he was happy a lot. Whether it was hiding behind the hot water tank, stealing slices of ham bigger than his own head, levering doors open with his paw, grasping a catnip-filled banana, or just meeting new people, he purred like his life depended on it. And if you ever worried he would miss you if you were away, you could be sure it’d be worth it for when you came back – as he charged towards you on a one-cat mission of headbutting/headrubs.

And all this with a myriad of illnesses. A wonky hip that sometimes meant he could hardly move one of his legs. A skin complaint that brought dozens of little scabs to his back and neck. Asthma (yes, cats get Asthma – but no little blue inhaler) that saw him rushed to the emergency vets. A thyroid operation that would have finished many cats off.

It was kidney disease that eventually did for him, but even up to his last day he didn’t complain – he took the myriad tablets and the prescription food, he enjoyed his ‘spa’ days when he was given fluid and attention by some of the nicest vets you could meet, and even when it turned out he was about five years older than we first thought he just shrugged it off. And then did a poo in one of my slippers.

You can think a lot about the day a friend dies, but it’s better to remember the many more days that they lived, and we’ll be doing that a lot from today, and probably forever. There are too many to talk about here – the night he stayed out and how we drove around the estate at 3am trying to find him only for him to arrive home at 6am and give us a row for not letting him in earlier; or the day we had a visit from the RSPCA to check we were nice people to get another cat – to which Seth walked into the room with the inspector, looked at her, and immediately just rolled around on his back to say how much he loved living with us; or when a supposedly old and fragile cat was spotted about a mile from his home climbing up a sheer rock face like a veteran Sherpa.

For all those moments, and thousands more, we shall always be grateful - even if we’re sad along with it.

So, if you’ve made it this far, thank you. And if you want to do something in honour of our furry friend, stick your loose change in an RSPCA collection tin and make sure that the other Seths out there get picked up, re-homed, and spread the love.

Seth Colman, thank you for everything.