Micky
Full Name: MitzvahAge: Old
Hobbies: Getting lost, eating, walking around Aberystwyth
Micky was my first cat. We found him one day when we were walking from my wife’s flat (we’d only been dating three weeks at this point) and my flat. He was sitting in the road, and when he stood up he was so emaciated he couldn’t lift his backside.
He was covered in fleas, starving, filthy and his teeth rotten. In the end he had all but his top two fangs removed.
We had him for a year in the end. We used to take him on walks around Aberystwyth. Sophie’s cafe would give him a saucer of milk, we had a basket he would sit in when he was done with walking.
He slept on my wife’s pillow every night, and would get lost at night in our one bed flat. Even though it was a straight line to the litter box and back.
He died of liver failure, a combination of age and the time he spent as a stray. I don’t think I’ve ever cried that hard before. I still miss him over a decade later.
My mother buried him under a cherry blossom tree.
