Halcyon days with Beanie.

Beanie was a very friendly cat with a placid nature. She had become a favourite with the children in the village, who liked to stroke her. Mature and matronly, she walked with a peculiar gait, a legacy of a displaced hip earlier in her life. We thought her a very beautiful tortoiseshell cat. She had a mask of black fur across her eyes, a silky fur coat and a fluffy tail with a white tip.

In addition, she was an excellent mouser. She’d leave on a regular basis, presents of the entrails, or the heads even, of mice, shrews and voles on the doorstep. In the evenings, she was happy to play ‘pass the parcel’, sitting on each of our laps in turn, and serenading us by purring like a motorbike.

Each of us had a special relationship with Beanie, but our younger son adored her. She was a very good-natured cat, and never complained, no matter how many times she was stroked and cuddled each day. If we bent down to her, she had a very endearing habit of jumping upon our backs and perching on our shoulders as we walked along, purring in our ears.

As well as her healthy diet of cat food, Beanie was given an occasional treat by our younger son, who would offer her a little piece of cheese from his sandwich, or a small dollop of cream on a saucer, after which, she would show her appreciation by licking her lips and grooming her whiskers.

She had three happy years with us, until she became poorly, and after a month’s course of treatment, died of a heart condition, which the vet reckoned she had been suffering from for many years. Each of us felt very sad, none more so than our younger son. We would all miss the special bit of magic she had brought into our lives.