My Missie died in 1994. I had just got divorced and moved from London (Notting Hill Gate) to a town just north of London. The house was on a main road, but a fairly quiet road. When we lived in London Missie was kept in unless we supervised her when she went out infrequently.
I worked full-time at the time. I also had another cat called Binnie, a stray that I had adopted in about 1993.
I have this very high quality movie in my head of Missie running down the garden to the back door after I got home from work. She raced down with Binnie behind. Missie was a Norwegian Cat/Moggie. She was a great jumper (6 feet from the ground no problem). She was compact, with long soft hair and a fluffy soft tail. She had a very quiet voice. She spoke very little. She used to sleep on my arm in bed under the duvet on a cold night.
She was my daughter that I never had. One day coming back from work she was wasn't there. I remember the day's work. I had seen an idiot of a client and done my best as usual to help him (I was a family law solicitor in those far off days).
Quite quickly I knew something was wrong. I searched and called. I knew she had been hurt or killed.
Next day I searched in the field opposite. I found her under a tree. She looked asleep. Blood that was still liquid came from her mouth. I picked her up and took her home. I didn't cry then but I'm crying now, 14 years later. Every time I think of her I shed tears. So I put her out of my mind.
She was cremated and she is still with me in a casket. Binnie is still alive. Robust but a nervous cat because of her difficult start in life. That nervousness keep her alive as she has never gone far from the back door. Missie was adventurous. She had crossed the road and, I think, had been knocked down by a vehicle. Just one of many thousands killed that way.
For me she was one in a million and I weep for her. I don't believe in the after life but I want to believe that I will see her again when I am gone. I want to go to her.