We live in a three-cornered household. I occupy one corner and my beloved partner Tigger another. Given our interest in the feline races it will not surprise you to learn that the third corner is firmly occupied by a cat. She is female and we call her Freya. What she calls herself, I do not know.
Freya wears an elegant tabby costume and has large yellow eyes with which she is able to gaze at me with hypnotic intensity when she wants something.
Freya is a “rescue” cat, that is, she was acquired by a cat charity from her original owner who was thought to be mistreating her. When Freya first came to live with me, she was so nervous and resentful that I thought she would never settle down and that I would have to give her back. Happily, she eventually calmed down and grew to accept and trust me. The cat that once ran away and hid from me is now full of affection and loves to curl up on my lap and be stroked.
In addition to the usual feline language, Freya has a vocabulary all her own and emits sounds that I have not heard any other cat make. For example, if I come into the room and don’t immediately see her, she will emit a little click, rather like someone clicking his tongue. Sometimes she will pronounce what sounds like the work “ick”. Unfortunately, I have no idea what this means!
When we go away on one of our trips, I lodge Freya in a cattery so that she is well cared for. There are two catteries that we use, both in Chingford. As I no longer have a car, this means that we have to travel to and from the cattery by bus and train. The once frightened cat now undertakes these journeys without a qualm, showing how far she has gained in confidence from her nervous beginnings.
Needless to say, when we have been away, the first thought in our minds is to fetch Freya home again to complete our three-cornered household!
Towards the end of May 2015, Freya’s health began to cause concern. Her hitherto healthy appetite suddenly declined and she virtually ceased eating. She spent most of her time curled up in one place and showed little inclination to move about though she was affectionate towards us and purred noisily when stroked.
We visited the vet on Tuesday May 26th but a blood sample showed no useful results. During the week I became even more concerned about her and took her to the vet’s on Friday. She was admitted as an in-patient but her condition worsened despite all medical care.
By Tuesday June 2nd, when I went to see her, she was almost completely passive and it was obvious to me that she was not going to recover her health. The only humane decision I could make was to end her misery.
Freya, the rescue cat who became a trusting and affectionate companion, died at about 11:15 am on June 2nd 2015.
I will carry her memory in my heart with love.