My big, bold, beautiful Trixie died today. Killed by what looks to have been some brain dead Mick in a tractor. At least someone had the decency to place her body by the side of the road. Trixie unwillingly posing for a picture. I'm the one hiding behind her.
Trixie was twelve years old. Pippakin is her sister.
I can't do this.
In twelve years there has never been a time when Trixie didn't come home for meals. If she was home when meals were being prepared she would jump onto the work top to see exactly what and how much was going into her dish.
Whoever killed her took a beautiful, contented, happy life. May the murderer never know good health, happiness or good luck. May he know the pain and death of loved ones, that's if he loves anyone more than himself.
I don't want to know who he is.
Trixie loved to play and she could be a wee bit of a bully, lately she started to play a game she would sit behind a half open door and refuse to allow Maggie to go through. My beautiful Trixie is all cat and poor little Maggie a small dog is only about half her size.
You couldn't hear Trixie purr she was so quiet, but if you held her you could feel her happy purring. She would run to strangers, always happy for new adventure and meeting new people. My Trixie would follow me wherever I went it happened so often I had to make sure she was locked in before I went out of the garden.
Understand this I never write for sympathy, empathy or applause. I know who reads my blog. I write for me I don't care what other readers think of me, my dogs or Pippa and Trixie.
If there are civilized Irish people you won't find them outside Dublin and even there you'll have to look carefully.
One Irish murderer, Ireland is full of murderers, murdered Trixie, but what do you think the rest are saying? 'Just a cat' absolutely they are because they don't care about or for animals.
On Monday I prepared her meal and called her most unusually she didn't come. I put it in the fridge and throughout the morning I kept calling, finally I went out to look, dreading what I might find, and there she was left by the side of the road. I took her to what passes in Ireland for our home.
Today I emptied her dish into the rubbish bag.
My beautiful girl is gone.
All that's left are her clean dishes and my memories
My beautiful girl spent a lot of her time in the kitchen after all you never know what delicious tidbit might be about to stroll out of the door, particularly out of the fridge door, and anyway the kitchen window catches what passes for sunlight in Ireland and so the draining board is a good warm place to lurk.
My Trixie loved mayonnaise, cheese, butter and sometimes milk. She would watch each dish carefully to make sure no one got more than her. Food was her big weakness and there was never a time when she didn't have plenty. For her I cooked chicken again of course Jezzie, Maggie and Pippa loved it too but Trixie was the addict and the reason I went back to cooking chicken.
Trixie died on the 28th August 2017, Some evil bastard mowed her down as if her life meant nothing. Oh, well, maybe if you have someone who killed a person living on your street the murder of a cat is a small thing.
I came to Ireland with three cats and one dog In less than ten years two of the cats and the dog have died. To say Ireland has diminished me is putting it mildly.
Pippakin
Is the only one left of the four I brought with me from England. Tax, Ollie and now Trixie all dead, all buried in what once was going to be the garden and is now a graveyard.
My poor Pippa, loves Ollie, she never seemed bothered by Tax or Trixie even though she and Trixie are sisters Ollie was obviously the one she loved and the one she bullied but this week has shown a difference.
Maybe Pippa is missing Trixie today Trixie's grave was pulled apart it would be very rare for Jezzie or Maggie to hear a strange animal in the garden and not create a huge fuss or to be in the garden unsupervised for long enough to pull the grave apart themselves.
Pippa is off her food, staying outside and refusing to join in anything including meals, but she doesn't seem to be ill, maybe she is lonely and missing the link with the past and our real home. I know how she feels...
Pippa went out yesterday morning (04/09/17) and has not returned. She has never done that before...Its dark outside on 05/09/17 and Pippa is not yet home.
Pippa is a strong, neutered cat she can survive outside but she has never stayed out for so long. Did she eat something that poisoned her? Is she lying somewhere in pain? Pippa is missing and I am lost.
Pippakin IS HOME! This morning 06/09/17 I again walked down the road calling for her and up she came! She can be a talkative girl and she was telling me off all the way home! I'm so relieved. She is still not eating so I think she may have found a kind stranger or knowing her she may have been killing small creatures.
Not to worry! I have added chicken to my shopping list and even though we don't have Cats Club I have ordered packets of Felix fish cat food, which she does or did like. I'm so relieved!
Pippakin is STILL not eating, she hasn't been out all day and she hasn't eaten even though she usually likes trout, tuna and chicken and she is hungry. I changed the time of the next delivery hopefully Pippa can hang on until then.
I wonder if these problems began with the advent of the beautiful ginger tom? Female cats are territorial and both Trixie and Pippa started going out more as soon as they saw him. Maybe stalking him and protecting their territory made Trixie careless of vehicles and maybe the loss of Trixie has given Pippa more to patrol and protect. We are not home Pippa is all I have left of home.
In the last two years Pippa and I have lost three of the corners of our world. I hadn't realised how much an animal can grieve. Its definitely not a quick sniff and forgotten it seems to be a weight Pippa carries. Now that she seems to have grown accustomed to the loss of Trixie she stays close to me, she is right behind me right now when I go to bed she will be on my shoulder. If I have a hope left its that she dies before me. I hate the thought of her having to endure another blow.
Pippa is eating a bit, not as much as when Trixie was here but more than the last week or so. I went to Tesco, a relative was here and drove me there and back, and bought some Cats Club. Pippa is a bit better. Problem now is she won't go out. I have to put her outside and when I do she waits close by the door to get back in.
There is no doubt Pippa has had a dreadful shock.
Good News!
Pippa has reclaimed her chair.
This is Pippa's chair she didn't mind sharing it with Ollie and after he died she seemed to lose interest in it to the extent that Jezzie and Maggie took it, that has changed. Pippa is home and she has returned to the fusspot girl who would only, and grudgingly share her chair with Ollie.
I hope its a sign she has come to terms with her great losses
I made a mistake coming here. I should have sold this hovel and I would have if Irish property prices hadn't dropped through the floor, the ground and middle earth. No sooner had I arrived than Ireland had to admit its politicians, bankers, property developers and their own what's in it for me attitude had bankrupted the country.
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