For the last few weeks, I've been having a really bad time, thinking about Matilda a lot. She was Bertie's sister - I had them from the same litter when they were six weeks old and they were my first cats since my childhood - and she was killed by a car in August 2005 when she was 11 months old. On the day she died, she wanted to go outside to play but I wanted to keep her indoors because I was going shopping, and didn't want the cats outdoors while I was out of the house because I didn't have a cat flap. I wouldn't open the door for her, but then she started being naughty and knocking books off shelves, so I decided to let her out for an hour just to keep her quiet - and 20 minutes later, I had a phone call from a lady who had found her body at the side of the road. I don't know whether I'm thinking about this a lot because my parents' dog was put to sleep recently, but I'm suddenly feeling incredibly guilty for letting her outside when I could have stopped her dying by keeping her inside. And I'm feeling bad about the fact that I let my dad bury her in the garden without putting her body in anything better than a bin liner - I was too upset to think of anything else, but now I wish I'd done more for her. I've moved house since then so she's been left behind, although I brought her gravestone with me and put it in the flowerbed in my new garden so she could see the flowers. But right now I feel so bad for letting her down and I wish I could know whether she forgives me. I saw a beautiful tortoiseshell cat that looked just like Tilly, but with white feet, yesterday and it broke my heart because I never got to see her grow up. Sorry for the whinge - no one else understands why I am so distraught still, even though she's been gone for more than two years. I've got Bella and Minnie now and I wouldn't swap them for the world, but I would give anything to have my Tilly back too. She'd only be three years old if she was still here and it feels so wrong that she's gone.
