Losing Anastasia

It's always difficult to give up something that you love, but when that something loves you and depends on you and asks nothing in return apart from your love then it's beyond difficult. In fact, it's positively heartbreaking.

That day I sat in the front seat of my car, the cardboard box with the flaps interlaced next to me and I fell apart for a good ten minutes.

Beside me, in the box, Anastasia knew that something was wrong, that today was different, and was adding her inquisitive meows to my quiet sobbing.

Stasia, as we used to call her, was the most beautiful Russian Blue cat, who together with her brother Rio had come into our lives as kittens, and had ram-raided their way into my heart.

The first day, they were overwhelmed by their new surroundings, and the moment they were set free on the floor they fled to the safety of the small space behind the cooker, where they stayed, peering down the dark, narrow gap between the oven and the cupboard next to it with a sense of wonder and apprehension.

Eventually, I coaxed them with a little food and a lot of gentle baby talk, and from then on we were firm friends,

Once, I had taken a long, deep bath, and had wrapped myself up in towels and was reading on the sofa when suddenly I heard a splash from the bathroom, followed by a frantic meowing. I rushed in to find Stasia standing on the bath mat, absolutely soaked and looking up at me with pleading eyes as if to say "what just happened?"

What had happened was that she had been doing her usual daredevil exploration of the rim of the bath, but as I'd forgotten to pull the plug after my soak, she'd lost her balance and taken a bath herself.

I sat for a long time, Stasia wrapped in a towel, drying her off while her brother looked on, talking gently to her, assuring her that everything was OK.

I loved that cat, both of them in fact, but there came a parting of the ways between me and my partner at the time, and while she could take Rio, her favourite, with her, I couldn't take Stasia with me, and so I found a good home for her, through word of mouth of my friends.

So, as we sat there, about to be parted, I took her in my arms and told her everything was going to be OK, that she was going somewhere that she would be safe, and happy, and that she would be loved.

She looked into my eyes as tears spilled down my cheeks and gave a single meow, as if to say goodbye.

I never saw her again, but have often thought about the brief time we shared. Yes, she was only a cat, but she was my cat, and I loved her dearly. Time has passed and she'll be in the great cattery in the sky now, but she did teach me a very important lesson.

It's always difficult to give up something that you love, so before you let it go, make damn sure you've made the right decision.