When my mum arrived in the summer 2015, I was very busy trying to create a new life for the two of us. I remember I was extremely tired all the time, in a heavy sort of way. I had to put one foot in front of the other both literally and metaphorically. In other words, every step I took was a deliberate but laborious movement forward in time.
I was unable to drive the car my husband and I had bought when we arrived in Wales. While I had driven in left hand traffic when I was young, I had never driven with a left hand gear stick (the car I had at the time was French because I lived in France for a while when I was young). It proved almost impossible. I therefore went ahead and applied for a loan to buy a second hand automatic car. I was very nervous at the bank because I had to explain to them how my mother’s pension would support my repayments, and at that point I wasn’t even hundred percent sure she would make it to the UK! The deal was nevertheless a very good one, my mum did make it, and the car was quickly paid off. I had a friend who had a friend who was a car dealer, in fact he owned several garages, and he wanted to help me because he himself had recently lost his wife. Big boss thus came to my kitchen and asked me what kind of car I wanted, and then, since automatic cars were rare in Wales, he went all the way to England and picked up the car at an auction. When I saw the car, I was awestruck. The number plate bore my husband’s initials! At the time I was certain it was a sign that he was there for me in spirit, but I have since given up on such beliefs.
The car was invaluable as I was now able to drive my mum to the hospitals and such. I also needed it to take my cats the vets. Some time in the autumn, we found out that the reason Marius, the ten year old grey fluffy Norwegian forest cat, always had diarrhoea, was bowel cancer. I held on a bit too long and the last couple of months felt rather indulgent and pointless. While he did have an insurance, there were some problems with the timing and I also ended up having to pay some of the costs out of pocket. At this stage, I had some money, but not much. We took him to the euthanasia, but I didn’t give it all that much thought because I was so busy caring for my mum, and still had my cats Robin and Beatrice.
Through a lady from Age Cymru, I found out that new housing was being built in town, and I applied for one of the houses. My mum and I received a two bedroom house, which is why I now pay bedroom tax for the extra bedroom. It’s an inordinate amount of money. But I would rather have it that way than sit in one of the midget houses that the council allocates for single people. Even the basins in the single’s houses in my area are midget ones and bedrooms don’t have doors.
Through another friend, I found out about a man with a van who was willing to help me with the move, and he offered a really good deal, too. In addition, he has loyally helped me out many times with handy man jobs despite being busy with a different type of business. And thus my mum and I moved from the draughty old Victorian town house to a newly built house in the outskirts of town. I was pleased the house had never been lived in before, and that I now had an outdoors space as well. Work on the house and garden has taken me years and really only picked up when I received some inheritance money after my dad. He died of old age in 2019, and photos from his life as a photographer can be found here.
My cat Beatrice (black and white) suffered from shock due to neglect. I cannot stress enough just how angry I still am. This person had advertised herself as a genuine pet minder. I was going into hospital and had hired her to look after my cats. But I was caught up in hospital due to medical negligence and for almost two weeks, I was only an antibiotic away from death. I tried to message her to look after the cats while I was still gone and she said yes, yes. After a week when I felt a little better, I called a neighbour and asked if she had heard from the pet minder. I had instructed her to get the key from my neighbour. No, she had not picked up the key! My neighbour quickly ran to see how the cats were doing and found them hungry but still alive. Thankfully, there had been some glasses with water on the tables. But unfortunately Beatrice never recovered and started fouling on my couches. She also had arthritis which in hindsight, was possibly already a reason to let her go. But I persevered for over a year until I finally decided I had to let go of her - she was sixteen and walked in a hunched up sort of way. It was a beautiful autumn day and I sat outside with her in the sunshine and gave her treats before I took her to the vets. But because of Covid, she was taken inside and I wasn’t given green light to go in and say goodbye to her until she was already unconscious. This also upset me quite a bit.
This is a photo of Robin one month prior to the euthanasia.
In the meantime, I’d been too busy to notice that my ginger cat Robin had lost a lot of weight. Weirdly enough, I noted it briefly and signed him up for an insurance. He was diagnosed with thyroid disease soon after Marius’ death, and wasn’t doing very well on drugs. Luckily his insurance paid for an expensive radio iodine injection at a hospital in Bristol. It was a long drive and once back in the house, he had to be confined in the kitchen for two weeks. After a while he gained strength and after a couple of years, he was looking incredibly strong and healthy. But then kidney disease started to wear him down and we had to visit the vet quite often. The vet was a lovely South African fellow with whom I had become friendly during the many out of hours chats we’d had at the clinic when everyone else was gone. In the beginning of summer, Robin had episodes of howling that seemed to indicate pain, and was withdrawing a lot. He still came out from under the bed to cuddle with me but I could see that he was not well. When I decided it was time to let go of Robin, the vet came to my house, and we sat down on the living room floor while the afternoon sun peeped in through the patio doors. Robin stood up the whole time, and then his legs gave way and his eyes turned black.
Robin was a very chatty cat. The last night before the euthanasia, he came up in my bed and chatted to me for about half an hour before I had to sleep. Afterwards, he returned to his position under the bed. We had had a couple of wonderful and calm years together just the two of us, and I had loved seeing him grow old. He was seventeen when he passed away and it was good to be able to have the procedure in my own home. My vet was wonderfully empathetic and left me flowers and card afterwards. He knew that Robin and I had had a special connection and commended me for having brought up such a confident cat. He also knew that Robin was the last of my family. As another beautiful gesture, he gave me Forget-Me-Not seeds to plant in my garden.
That summer, my garden was so very empty without Robin’s gentle presence. Although it was unbearably sad, I’m grateful Robin’s end was quite beautiful because it also marked the end of an era. I will not be able to have another cat. I am sadly too unwell to take care of pets.
There are some videos of my beautiful cats on my
Youtube channel, especially in ‘
Vivi-Mari in a Day’.
