Poor Old Thomas

Hamlet says, 'When sorrows come, they come not as single spies but in battalions.  Perhaps I am being a bit extreme but this morning I got a very sad phone call from my sister-in-law, Jane.  After 19 years of companionship Thomas, their family cat, is going to be 'put to sleep' this afternoon.   We both had a good weep and said it was for the best but it tears one's heart to shreds.  I suppose it's because we've lost so many pets and family members already.  Each loss compounds the grief of the next and yet it always takes us  by surprise.  Shouldn't it get easier instead of harder?  We've been here before, we should be more equipped to cope with the loss.  I suppose it's the depth of feeling we have for the lost loved ones which makes each passing so difficult to accept.  That has to be a good thing, doesn't it?  


I look at my little cat, curled up in his favourite chair, sleeping so peacefully.  I hope he has as long a life as Thomas. Nineteen years, well done Thomas!