Even though I’ll probably talk about this a little bit in class I wanted to tell the story properly about a beautiful 3-legged kitty cat that lives on my street, or should I now say lived.

I thought he was homeless, there are cat dishes in front of a few houses and flats on my street for him and I always caught different people sitting down with him and cuddling him. He was one of the friendliest cats I’ve ever seen, when I turned onto the street he would often come hobbling over to me as fast as he could, I’d sit with him and never want to leave. I found out a few months ago by some mere coincidence that Greg (that’s what I had named him) belonged to my cousins’s best friends parents, and that his name was in fact Pusscar.

In the last few months I’ve been away and been busy as heck and I hadn’t seen him as much. The last time I saw him was on the 31st of January. In the last two weeks I’d been back home a little more and I hadn’t seen him around anywhere, I wondered where he was and thought maybe he was being loved by someone else every time.

On Monday morning before class I was walking up and down the street taking photos of the houses and I hoped that I’d get to see my dearest Greg/Pusscar, instead I found a note stuck to a post that informed me that he had passed away. Such a sad day.

I thought that this cat had helped my neighbourhood seem like a friendlier and more connected place, because though I don’t know my neighbours, I know that they knew Greg, he was a beautiful cat and I hope he is resting in peace