Our third cat, little Bailey, has come to the end of the line. He was struggling to eat and was losing weight fast so we thought the best thing we could do for him was put him out of his misery.

So little.

It’s really hard to describe Bailey, a rather reclusive cat. He came to us about five years ago, hanging out on our deck until we let him in. We had seen him before in the front and back of our house, calling him “Brown Tabby.” He was a big guy back then. He was shy then, too, disappearing out of sight quickly. That’s why it was such a surprise when he parked himself on the deck in plain view.

Bailey fit in with our two other cats fine by ignoring them for the most part. He kept to himself, spending the first two years here under the buffet in the dining room. Gradually he branched out to the dining room table itself and even the loft. But his favourite place was our bed where he would come for snuggles almost every night. This was entirely out of character for him because he would actually back away from us if we approached him. But the bed was safe, for some reason. He loved his chin rubs and he loved to rub his sore mouth up against my hand. This held true for the cottage as well, where he would leave his abode – the corner of the cupboard – only to hop on the bed.

Bailey was quiet and did no harm. Once Richard arrived a year and a half ago, he had to defend himself against the youngster’s relentless chasing. I’m sure that heightened his stress levels. Yet they would sleep close to each other in the loft, sometimes even on opposite sides of the bench, separated by a pillow.

I will miss Bailey and will keep him in my memories forever as my special cat.