I am the bearer of sad news.
“I think he’s moved.”
I stayed in denial for a couple of days, he’d be back, he always appeared, I never went more than a couple of days without seeing him. But I started to work backwards. Just how long had it been since I last saw him? A week? Two weeks?
I was confronted with the awful truth one morning when I opened my bedroom curtains to realise that Eddie’s house looked different. The Hull City flag which used to hang in the bathroom window was no longer there. It really was true, he was gone.
I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to you that I have actually shed a little tear about this. (I know Diane in particular is shaking her head in exasperation at this point. Yes I really do love cats that much.) I didn’t even get to say goodbye to him. What happened when he got to his new place and went outside looking for me and couldn’t find me? What if they didn’t take him with them and put him in a shelter or worse? These questions have been going round my head on a loop.
Never again will I scoop up the big lump and look at his gormless face. Never again will I tell him to get out of Maud’s personal space because he gets too close to her. Never again will I despair at the dirtiness of his face and the fleas on him (probably won’t miss that bit). Never again will I go outside to see his big fat black and white face peering at me over the top of the shed roof. And never again, will I look up from tapping away at my laptop to see him sitting on the wall and peering in at me.
Farewell Eddie von Grumpy Face.