<a href="http://pigyard.com/wordpress/?attachment_id=332" rel="attachment wp-att-332"><img class=" wp-image-332 alignleft" title="Millie" src="http://pigyard.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/Img2002-11-09_0016-200x150.jpg" alt="" width="200" height="150" /></a>After getting back from our holiday in Cumbria our little female cat, Millie, was not well at all despite our neighbour doing everything she could to get her to eat. We took Millie to the vet and heard the shattering news that she had a cancerous growth in her gums that had spread and it was so bad it was stoppiing her eating. The prognosis was terminal and so we made the very difficult decision to have her "put to sleep". We held her whilst the vet gave the fatal injection and she purred all the time until she slipped away with a final, gentle gasp. We cried and throughout the day we cried again and from time to time we still well up. After 15 years, <a href="http://pigyard.com/wordpress/?attachment_id=363" rel="attachment wp-att-363"><img class="alignright  wp-image-363" title="Millie's grave" src="http://pigyard.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2012/03/Millies-grave-150x200.jpg" alt="" width="150" height="200" /></a>one quarter of our lives, to lose the cutest of cats has been very difficult - we loved her dearly. Perhaps our tears are for the recognition of our own mortality but whatever the deep psychological reason, it still hurts.

We buried her next to the rockery, laid a stone on top and placed a basket of flowering plants (a gift from Martin &amp; Kate) alongside.