Goodbye Finney Push, my little pushikins!!
I'm sure you would have made the most of the lovely day today, perhaps a little rub in the grass in the hot sun, a casual nibble at the pellets in your bowl, or just a long cool slurp of water.
You might even had flicked your tail at the sunshine in defiance and had an indulgent nap, curled up amongst the scatter cushions on the couch, in the curtained drawn darkness of our living room.
Whatever the choice, you would have enjoyed it to the fullest.
So I hope you're enjoying your final rest.
As for us, we're trying our best Finney, but I'm not sure we're succeeding. I'd give anything to feel your soft fur and hear your insistent meow and that purr of yours - its rumble could shake the very foundations - or at least it felt like it. I'd even put up with your stale sardine breath - you know it was foul Finney!
But I guess nothing is going to patch up this hole I now have right in the centre of my chest. Like a stubborn and petulant child, the ache just simply will not let go. I'm hoping it will dull with age, but perhaps the wrench was too hard, too furious, too fast ... the wound too jagged and raw.
And nothing will replace that spot in our lives which you once occupied and claimed as your own not so very long ago. 17 years ... eclipsed in a matter of minutes ... it doesn't seem right somehow. There should have been fireworks and rainbows and coloured balls of string and fried chicken ... not the insipid hum of clinical machinery amidst cold hard white surfaces, and firm grasping alien hands tugging at paw and mouth alike. Finney can you ever forgive us, dear friend, our very "first-found".
Still I hope you like your little spot under the Magnolia tree. We tried to think of places that had some significance in your life to put you - the neighbour's backyard at the old house, the secluded haven of the fernery - but we wanted somewhere close and pretty - just how we need you to be.
We won't forget you and will love you for the rest of our days.
Goodnight my Finney-push!
