Stan: My Cat | Charlie’s Column

by Charlie Ridgewell
Published: Last Updated on

I count pets among the best things in life. They add something to every house that they can call home—be it a bark or a meow. And we, humans, fellow creatures, give our love to them for as long as they’re in our lives—be that a lifetime or just a few short years.

But like all good things in life, there comes a day when you have to say goodbye.

My cat, Stan, had a very big mouth and a personality to match. His relentless, attention-seeking cries in the early hours of the morning would often wake-up my mum. And on occasion, he’d just sit for who-knows-how-long making noises at our neighbours’ parrot. When the weather was nice, he’d disappear for hours to hunt with Steiner, his best mate and fellow cat—only returning, much later on, for some more food.

Stan was a wonderful cat, a bright spark that added a lot to our home, and he was loved more than you could possibly know. Sadly, though, we recently had to make the difficult decision to let him go, for his ever-worsening condition was starting to take hold. He was only three years old, but the day had come to say goodbye.

“I think of you / I haven’t slept / [ … ] You’re always in my head”

—“Always In My Head,” Coldplay.

To say I’m heartbroken is an understatement: just thinking about him is tearing me apart.

Pets can help with loneliness, keeping you company. They become part of the family, and they are around breakfast, dinner, and tea. But now the cat-flap doesn’t swing, and the house is silent. There’s no meows—not even a purr.

However: Stan won’t be forgotten.

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