It’s with some sadness that I relate Layla (aka ‘Lady Fussington’, aka ‘The Duchess’, aka ‘Ol’ Lefty Bereux’) has moved on to pastures and scritches anew. Yup, she’s got a new owner and a new home.
Of course I should add I was never her owner. I merely shared a den with her, one which I left half a year ago or more though I never stopped visiting for feline fuss. But I was always Layla’s favourite uncle and my lap was rarely empty with her about, that’s for sure.
And things would always have been that way if not for Layla herself. See, Layla is the most loving cat you could hope for, truly, but she really does think other cats are dicks. It’s just the way she was raised in her kitten years when she had another owner. So she never fully accepted the presence of Cleo, another cat in the den.
In the last few months neither of them were happy, particularly Layla herself. She had become something of a sad recluse, which was quite unlike her. I think me leaving may have compounded that, frankly. But I couldn’t take her with me, not where I was going. And, honestly, though I can look after myself well enough I don’t think I’m ready to look after another sentient being. Not without help.
The good news is Layla is being adopted by a lovely new owner with a big house that’s, vitally, cat-free. Layla’s gonna get a lot of love and be spoiled to a level she doesn’t deserve but gladdens my heart.
Safe journeys, Layla my lady. I know you’re just a cat but you lit up my life. I’ll miss our face rubs.