Beale in her seed tray

When I couldn't sleep last night, I was thinking about what I was going to write in my blog today and was going over and over it in my mind to the point where I almost knew it off by heart. But now it's time to write it, it almost gives me a headache - maybe because I've been thinking about it so much - even though I know I'll feel much better when I have. Writing really helped me yesterday as I was incapable of doing much else. It helped me sort out in my mind what had happened by enabling me to make sense of something which seemed pretty nonsensical but most importantly it enabled me to remember how lovely Beale was.

I feel much better today and want to say a big thank you to everyone for their lovely comments which have really helped.

I got upset last night because I couldn't remember specific details about my last time with Beale, when I said this to H he said he could, even though he hasn't seen her for months. "I remember Beale, she has a soft fluffy white tummy and a loud tractor purr and dainty paws."

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My mum and my sister buried Beale yesterday afternoon. They chose a spot where Mich had sat down, between the apple tree and the bench at the bottom of the garden. When we walked down the garden and sat on the bench, Mich and Beale would always come and see us. They would materialise from wherever they'd been sleeping to say hello and come for a quick cuddle. Of course, Mich still will. Behind the bench is another apple tree which Beale used to like to climb. From the top she could paw her way onto the roof of next door's shed where she liked to sleep and sun herself.

My mum and sister dug a deep hole and then my sister put a soft blanket in the hole for Beale to lie on. It wasn't just any blanket, it was Mich's. You can tell it was Mich's because it has an 'M' on it. My mum, being good at starting things but not so good at finishing them (like me), started making Mich and Beale blankets before Christmas a few years ago. She sewed on the 'M' for Mich but that's as far as she got, poor Beale didn't even get a 'B'.

My sister placed Beale on the blanket and put a little knitted penguin she used to cuddle next to her. Then my sister put some Creon down as well. For anyone who doesn't know what Creon are, they're my digestive enzymes. Not a normal cat food but then Beale wasn't a normal cat. She loved Creon. If I'd dropped one on the floor and she found it, she'd chew it up while purring her loudest tractor purr and lick her lips afterwards as if she'd just had the best meal in the world. Me being a messy sort of person, I always seem to leave a trail of Creon behind me: at the bottom of bags, in pockets, in coats, down behind the sofa... And Beale would track them down and gobble them up as fast as she could. If I had some in my jeans' pocket, she would sniff them out and go crazy looking for them. Once I told my cf nurse about Beale liking Creon (Mich doesn't) and she told me they were really expensive and wasn't impressed at all. I tried to tell her that I didn't feed Beale Creon, she just found them and I wanted to know if anyone else had said that their cats liked them. I guess it was just a Beale thing.

My sister then picked lots of brightly coloured flowers from the garden and placed them all around Beale so she looked like a saint which, of course, she was. Then my mum put some soil on top and planted some bulbs which will come up in the spring and remind us of Beale forever.