I wonder who’s comforting who in that embrace?

I had my suit ready. My Elvis suit. It was a party to celebrate Elvis’ life. A party only for cool cats. I looked fantastic, practiced my jive and the swivel hips motion. But I didn’t go.

Lil went into the garden accompanied by me and then Dolly this afternoon and Lil’s back legs gave way. But Lil she just got up and toddled off as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

The cat basket has been taken down from the attic. It looms in the living room it’s wire cage door hanging open. There is a towel in the bottom of it and a cushion. Dolly has been trying to destroy it. Clawing at the woven wicker and biting the broken bits. I told her it wouldn’t do any good. There’s another basket in the loft. And if that was to be ruined too there’s always a cardboard cat box...

Friday evening. Coronation Street is being watched. Big Lil is snuggled into Susan’s side on the sofa. Dolly is in the garden with the catnip. I can see all this from my vantage point in the conservatory. Susan is crying and Dolly’s as high as a kite but chews on. I feel angry. I’m impotent. I can’t do anything to make this better...

Big Lil is losing weight, a bag of bones. Susan has noticed. I’ve been reading her diary. She’s frightened of taking Lil to the vet she scribbles -doesn’t want to know the answer. Doesn’t want the diagnosis and then the prognosis.

Big Lil leans closer to Susan and pats her arm with her paw. I wonder who’s comforting who in that embrace?

Ferdinand: I don’t cry.