I'll never forget the day I picked you up from the foster home. 'Not exactly an oil painting' was the description used. You came to me to try and fill a cat sized hole in my heart. That was unfair. You deserved your own place there and from the minute you looked at me quietly from the cat basket you had one.
Scruffy straw like fur, dull eyes and skinny you were but within weeks you'd made yourself at home and the eyes were bright and the fur like silk. Yes, you were an oil painting as far as I was concerned.
I loved your "big old lion paws" I called them, and you used to gently lay them on whatever part of me you could reach when we slept. I miss that Lizzie bubble. My boo boo girl. Your dishes are how you left them. Your water glass is full. Even your litter tray has your footprints in. I don't want to move anything, then losing you will be real. I'd give anything to hear you scratch my table legs or not be able to move for hours because you wanted my lap.
The flat is empty without you baby girl.
I hope you can forgive me, I couldn't see you suffer more than you were. Those sleepless nights when you just sat. Desperate for comfort but in pain. I wish I could have taken it all away from you and taken it myself.
I know you're running free at the bridge finally out of pain. Your old owner would have been there to meet you as I was only a temporary trustee. But one day I hope you look up and see me and come running to say hello and we'll have more Lizzie mummy cuddles.
Rest easy princess.
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