A sad blog: Goodbye to my Beastly

This is not a happy blog post.  Feel free not to read further.

At 4.45am, on the 13th November, my Beastly, my 19 year old boy cat, died.  Since 2011, he had recovered from a heart attack and subsequent heart murmur, hyperthyroidism, pancreatitis, kidney problems, and a blocked urethra which was operated on under general anaesthetic in the middle of the night.  In the end, and seemingly trivial compared to all that had gone before, it was anaemia that finished him, making him too weak to move, to eat, and finally to breathe.

I have written this blog post several times.  Previous drafts have run into several thousand words each as I have tried to describe what made The Beast special, and why his passing is so difficult for me.  In the end, though, I've come to realise.  There are no words that could possibly ever be adequate, possibly ever could describe exactly what has been lost

To try to describe these wordless (but never silent) creatures in words alone is to attempt to describe the voices of the gods.
Such words can only ever be a pale and bloodless imitation of the vital and the indescribable.
Such words, insufficient, futile, can only render the remarkable into the mundane.

My boy's fight is over now.  He will never be too tired, or too weak ever again.  It's of little consolation; he will never be warm, or happy or comfortable again either.  That brilliant, bright ball of energy passes unremarked from the world, because no remarks can ever suffice.  They never can.  Not for any of us.

Jack Black had it right - this is not the greatest song in the world.  This is just a tribute.

Sleep well, my bright boy.

Beastly is survived by the Jabberwocky, aka the Jibber.  Jib is a bit dense, so he hasn't quite worked out what's happening yet, though today, his first ever entirely alone, he has been a bit odd.  Time will pass, and the loss will become less acute for us both.  In some ways, I dread that day.  I hope the memory of my Beast remains as bright as he was himself.

Thanks to all who wished The Beast well during his many ailments and sent him healing energy; and to those who were forced to follow his exploits via my facebook and twitter feeds.  Thanks to Steven C. Davis who offered to travel up country and look after him to allow me to go and play a gig - sadly, that help wasn't needed.   Special thanks to lovely Jo (Crimson Clocks violinist/ oboist) for various acts of Beastly minding, including tablet administration, over the years.  And thanks also to all the staff at Value Vets Kings Heath, who got to know the Beast quite well over the last few years, and put up with me mithering over his health with very good grace indeed.

You can see a video of the Beastly, in his later years but still very active, here.