Sir William,

I remember the day I first met you. I had gone to your foster home to meet the new kitten, a small baby who was coming to join my fur family - a bright & friendly little tabby girl. You were there, in the pen below hers, fed up and miserable, with a dry, rough unkempt coat. A big old scruffy ginger and white boy. I couldn't resist your sad eyes, pleading with me to give you a little love, you didn't want much....just a little.....

As I bent down to speak to you, I was greeted with a gentle smile and my heart was lost. You came home with me that very day. As you jumped out of the carrier, I could see that you knew that you would never have to leave, or be abandoned again. I have never, before or since, seen a cat grow young again, like you did.

I remember the way you would march up to me with your deep *mmmrrough* as you answered my calls. I remember the way you used to sit in the flower bed in a sunbeam, smiling as the sun warmed your bones. I remember you curling up next to me, so close that every part of you touched me, while you purred me to sleep, and I remember the way you welded yourself to my lap every time we watched TV. I remember the musky smell of your fur as I buried my nose in your belly when I cried, and I remember you washing away my tears with your rough tongue.

The day I had to make the decision to let you go to Rainbow Bridge was the worst of my life. You had soldiered valiantly against your ear infections for months, and when you shattered your leg - I still don't know how you did that - you put up with all the surgery so bravely. You started to make a good recovery, and Terry even took out your stitches, but it was just too much. Your body couldn't cope anymore.

You told me you wanted to go. I am just so grateful you let me say goodbye first. You stayed for such a short time, but you'll be with me forever. Sleep well Sir William.

In Loving Memory of Sir William
who passed away on October 1, 2000.

Copyright © Helen Miles
April 12, 2001