A little old friend, part of the family for ten years.
A veritable beauty. The biggest bluest eyes, pretty face and fluffy and gorgeous and friendly and so damn good.
Ten years ago I bought berti the huge British colour point cat after our last cat had been run over. The lady who sold him to me asked if I would ever be prepared to rescue these beautiful creatures. Of course I said yes.
Within a year I had three of these fabulous furries, Berti, Bella and Baby. All related, all bundles of loving fun.
Well 2 days ago Baby disappeared. She is a little home bod, never going far from the garden, sleeping on the deck of HQ in the sun. Being there, always happy to see you, part of my life. Now she is not.
Yesterday was spent hunting high and low. Going round the neighbourhood searching stables, sheds and garages. That gut wrenching search through the hedgerows looking for remains. Calling, crying, hoping.
The hurt and fear overflowing into all aspects of the day. Pulling you away from the things you have to do, putting you in places you don't want to be. Everything overwhelms and it all becomes too much.
You know your real friends when they just drop everything and come help in the fearsome hedgerows looking for loss. They rally round to help sort the things that piled in and overwhelmed. Gather up the broken shards of calm and help put things together again.
Has the idyllic area turned into a hateful hell where some scumbag excuse for a human being could come and take her away? Has someone heartlessly run her over and thrown her body away? Is she trapped and hurt and dying?
Oh God what to think. The fields are being cut this week, the noise is unbearable, the lorries and massive tractors thunder past day and night, fast, noisy, mind twistingly aggressive beasts with rage in their engines and deadlines in the drivers eyes. What chance a little cream cat.
Sometimes the idyllic countryside is not what it seems.
This is for Baby, we miss you so much, please come home.