I lost a rescue cat

I lost an old rescue cat this week, and my heart has felt strangely heavier ever since.
He came to us in the twilight of his life, a little soul worn by years of wandering, and for a moment it felt like time paused to let him rest.

Watching him fade was painful, like holding a small piece of the world as it quietly disappears.
For a while, I wondered if I could have done more, even though I know that life doesn’t always give us the chance to change the ending.

But then I realised something softer.
He didn’t leave this world as a shadow on the pavement.
He left as a loved being, warm, safe, and finally at peace.

We gave him a home when he had none,
a bed instead of a cold doorway,
a name, a presence, a place to belong.
And in return, he gave us the kind of silent trust that stays long after he’s gone.

Losing him hurts, yes.
But knowing his last chapter was gentle, that is its own kind of beauty.
Maybe we didn’t rewrite his whole story… but we healed a page of it.
And that feels enough.

Farewell Fofão