I am both overwhelmed and again, incredibly grateful to everyone who has responded to my post about Bibby’s imminent passing. In fact, after what seemed like the longest weekend of my life spent watching over her, holding my own breath as I paid minute attention to every faint sign of life, we took her on her last journey to the vets yesterday morning.

We had agonised about this, but there were practical as well as compassionate reasons for this. Firstly, I wanted to be sure that her final moments were painless. Secondly, we live in a flat (what American readers would call an apartment), so we have no access to a garden where we could give my beloved Bibby a dignified burial. And thirdly, we knew from experience that we are blessed with one of the most caring and empathetic vets I have ever known – and I will name and recommend Prathayini Parameswaran at Wilbury Vets in Hove without hesitation.

I should explain that Bibby had a twin sister, Chuffy (don’t ask me to explain how I name cats, it’s just a thing of mine that I want them to have monikers that sound as though they match the creature’s personality and I never give them ‘human’ names). Like Bibby, Chuffy brought unalloyed joy in my life, but sadly succumbed to kidney disease in November 2020, during the pandemic. Her end was sudden and terrifying: she started having fits overnight, thrashing in my arms as I tried to comfort her, and before dawn it was clear that we needed to make that call.

Wilbury vets were amazing, and had set up a couple of private cabins in their garden, tastefully and sympathetically decorated with candles, flowers and soft blankets to make the last moments of beloved pets as comfortable as possible – and as bearable as possible for their owners too. And as for Prathayini, let’s just say that she was wonderful, managing to attend to the clinical need of not prolonging Chuffy’s suffering, whilst at the same time ensuring that we, Chuffy’s loving and grieving owners, at no point felt rushed or lacking the time to say goodbye.

We wanted this for Bibby too.

And so it was that early on Monday morning, we tucked Bibby into her carry crate with her favourite blanket and drove her the short distance to the vets, where we were greeted with kind and caring faces and voices, and a nurse took Bibby from us briefly to prepare her, whilst we had a short discussion with Prathayini to confirm the situation and our decision.

Bibby was waiting for us in the very same garden booth where Chuffy had spent her final moments and it was comforting knowing that Bibby would leave us from the same spot where her sister had passed peacefully away, with the beautiful garden outside the window and candle light flickering on the walls.

We made the right decision. Prathayini was empathy embodied and did her job flawlessly, with words of comfort when needed and a simple, dignified presence when not. Hers is a job I simply could not do; my heart would be in pieces every time.

It seemed that Bibby had hung on to life by a thread so that we could share those final moments with her, corralling a last few wisps of breath and slow heartbeats just long enough for us to say our final goodbyes.

And then she was gone.

Annie and I drove to a local beauty spot, Devil’s Dyke, from where one can see a vast expanse of the Sussex countryside and the sea beyond. The air was cool, and a mist hung over the rolling hills and farmland, and out to sea the shapes of wind farm towers lurked on the edge of a cotton wool horizon. There was hardly anyone around, a wonder and a blessing on what was an August morning that would normally see bus loads of visitors and a crowded car park.

We sat in silence in the car, holding hands, looking north towards the Weald and, in the other direction, the faint hills of Surrey, drained of the energy to communicate verbally after the tearful days and sleepless nights of our final vigil for our beloved Bibby.

The day was bright, but a light had left our lives.

And now, as I sit here tapping out this Note, amidst the agony of loss, I want to mention someone.

– your writing and love of cats has brought me comfort in recent days, so thank you, and I know you’ll understand.