It’s a gloomy Sunday here in Cardiff with dark clouds and heavy rain most of the morning. That, together with the impending ordeal of a trip to Swindon, has obviously dampened my mood a bit after the last couple of days. It has however at least given me the right frame of mind to write something about my dear departed Columbo, who passed away on 1st August. Was it really so long ago?
I’ve found it difficult to know what to do about writing about Columbo in the weeks that have passed since he died. I was devastated, of course, and often felt the urge to write something on here, but was anxious not to allow myself to get too mawkish about things. To do that would have exceeded even the generous allowance of self-indulgence which comes with writing a blog, so I’ve held off and tried the best I can to deal with it on my own. Now, though, I think I’m ready to write something about the past weeks and months. Who knows, it might even help other people going through similar things themselves.
When Columbo died I simply couldn’t face going straight back to work so I took a day off. What I did that day will probably seem strange to many people, but I felt I had to do it. I got rid of all Columbo’s things: his basket, toys, food dishes, the lot. The only thing I couldn’t dispose of was the yellow plastic “sharps” bucket containing the used hypodermic needles that I’d accumulated during the course of his treatment for diabetes. These constitute medical waste so it’s not permitted to throw them away with the usual refuse; I’d have to take them to the vets for disposal and pay a few pounds to have them incinerated. In fact, I still haven’t done that. My last visit to the vets was so traumatic that I still haven’t been able to face going back there.
I was even going to take all the posts I’d made about Columbo offline, but in the end decided not to. That was mainly because people have told me they enjoy reading some of the old items and I therefore thought it would be a bit selfish to take them away. I know I’m not the only one who misses the poor old thing.
After a day or two of vegetating at home, I went into work. I almost came straight back home again after bursting into tears on the way to my office, but soldiered on. Over the next few days and weeks I tried to work as hard as I could to distract myself from things and adopted a “business-as-usual” approach to the blog. Although I was at work I tried to keep myself to myself more than usual, avoiding our communal coffee and lunch breaks, trips to the pub, and so on. Going away to a conference also helped. Sudden mood swings came and went, but gradually their amplitude decreased. NowI think I’ve regained some sort of equilibrium. Life has changed, but goes on. The Columbo Era has ended.
Which is not to say that I don’t still miss Columbo terribly. Coming home from work there’s still the shock of an empty house and no Columbo to greet me at the door. Being an old fart it was my habit to take a nap on Sunday afternoons; Columbo always joined me for a loud purring session. Without him I simply can’t do that anymore. No cat, no nap…
I’m not the only one to miss Columbo. A couple of days after he went to meet his maker, one of the neighbours’ cats appeared at the glass door in my dining room peering inside. This cat, a female of the species, was quite friendly with Columbo. I don’t know her name. Although she wears a collar I never managed to read the tag; I call her Maud because she comes into the garden. Although she’s been a regular visitor to my little garden I’d never seen her so close to the house before. I watched her searching all around, mewing plaintively. I could well be reading too much into this, but I do think she was looking for Columbo and was upset by his absence.
As time has passed, other cats have visited the garden with increasing frequency. There’s a very sleek black tom cat, a strange skinny cat with a big nose, and a young tabby who I first saw as a pair of green eyes staring out of the bushes late one night. Although Columbo was never much of a fighter these other cats didn’t come down into the garden very often while he was here; they usually sat on the fence or shed roof. Now there’ll probably be a turf war over who gets to count my little patch as part of their territory. I won’t chase them away. In fact I’d be quite happy if one day I could make their acquaintance properly. At the moment they all scarper as soon as I open the door.
The only other thing I want to say is to answer those people who have asked me whether I am planning to get another cat. Well, to be honest, I haven’t got any plans to do that. I just couldn’t face it right now. I’m not sure I ever will, actually, but you never know. Just not in the foreseeable future.
In the Dark 