RIP Pablo

If my eyes were my camera on the world as I passed my oak today, the image would have been blurry beyond belief. Pablo, our Spanish cat extraordinaire, died yesterday - his life cut cruelly short before he had properly left kittenhood.

But I left the field with tears dried and a smile, if somewhat sad, on my face for in his short life he bought tremendous joy, laughter and cheer to our family.

He inveigled his way into our life on a holiday in El Campello last summer, beguiling us and ensuring we were powerless to do anything other than adopt him.

An EU passport holder, his short and eventful took him from the tracks alongside Poble Espanyol tram station, on a road trip through Spain and France to the Cotswolds and Casa Lloyd.

From the moment we met him we all instinctively knew, with his mischievous nature and vociferousness, that he would be the perfect foil for Poppy, our bitch (in the nicest possible sense of the word) of equal character. And so he was - full of nonsense and boyish bravado.

I had only said to Eddie 2 days ago that I hadn't seen Pablo giving Poppy a rough up and run around for some time so it was strange that less than 24 hours later he was doing that very thing when Eddie got back from school. Less than 2 hours later Catherine learned from the vets that he had been run over.

Make no mistake he was a cat, but he had time for each member of our family, particularly Lucy, who he bonded with inseparably from that first meeting on the Alicante to Altea tram line less than a year ago.

Wherever your soul might be, it will be an altogether livelier and happier place for it. Pablo. You will be missed and certainly never forgotten.

RIP little man.

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