Passing of Tilly

Eight week old Tilly.
Copyright ©2022. Mark Kelly

Once more I find myself faced with this difficult task, the loss of our beloved Tilly (Trotter) on Thursday 8th December, at roughly 1430hrs.

Tilly, then called Frodo, (as Lord of the Rings was just released in the cinema, and it was believed she was a male cat) came to us as an eight week old, grey-striped bundle of attitude and sass, and for something so small, wasn't afraid to give a smack.

At the time we lived in Llantwit Major and had recently lost Baila, our very first cat - such a sweet, gentle and loving soul - and Thomas our tom cat was now alone.
Enter Tilly. Like a thunder bolt, Tom's life was turned up-side-down by this wild bundle of grey-striped fury and fun. 

Tilly was as loving as she was mercurial - one minute purring from being stroked, to swiping you with her claws with a hiss. She was, at heart, a semi-feral cat, discovered as a kitten running wild on a golf course in Bridgend, evading capture for three days. Of her mother and possible siblings we knew nothing. We had adopted her from the Bridgend Cat Rescue centre.

Time.

A strange concept, Time. We are governed by it throughout our lives. We race against it, try to make it up, we waste it, we value it when it comes to a break in our daily work routine, we complain about it, and even reminisce about it. It can feel as if it is flying by, or dragging slowly. Sometimes we measure it by success, or failure. We can invest it, or squander it. But when it comes down to the final moments when we are faced with the inevitable passing of a loved one, we always wish for more. 

More Time...

More Time to say the things you were scared or afraid to say, to express your feelings, say how much you love them, to say you are sorry for something maybe said or done, or not in some cases.