She was always there for me.
Through break-ups, house moves, failed job interviews, she would sit silently, patiently as I soaked her shoulder with my tears.
I could tell her anything. She showed no judgement, told me no lies.
Every night when I came home and got to bed – however late – she was always there, waiting. Every morning I woke up to her beautiful face greeting mine. So from the moment she entered my life I started every day smiling.
Then one day I decided to go travelling and had to say goodbye to her.
While I was away, she died.
I wasn’t there for her.
I never got to tell her I’m sorry for leaving her.
Sometimes still, in the middle of the night, I think I feel her by my feet.
I don’t talk about her much now.
After all, ‘She was only a cat’, some say.
I originally wrote this about a year after Molly’s death and when I had returned from South America.