Brandy and Loquisha

Brandy and Loquisha

I've had to say goodbye to two of my animals recently.
Brandy and Loquisha both departed this world for the next.  One death was expected, one not.
I know it's all part of having animals but I always find it sad to lose friends, which is what they are after all.

Brandy was eighteen when she died, a good age for a cat.  She was very pretty, tabby and white and always immaculate.  She also ruled like a queen, putting all new arrivals in their place with a quick bash over the nose.  She trained all my puppies to respect cats in this way.

Unfortunately she didn't tolerate other cats.  She and Spud had a long standing grievance, with Spud wanting to play and Brandy taking offence and launching an attack.  She hated all the neighbouring cats, none were allowed into her space.  Once a cat had the temerity to come into the house.  Brandy, then aged seventeen and already not well, took a flying leap at the stranger and the two of them, entangled in a flurry of hair, teeth and claws, disappeared out of the window.
I ran outside, expecting to find an injured animal or two but was rewarded by the sight of Brandy patrolling her boundary fence, yowling at the other cat.  They were both fine thankfully.

Brandy sunning herself around the Hydrangea

Latterly I knew that she was failing.  She had dementia, constantly calling for food even though she had just eaten, but she was losing weight rapidly.  She went to the extremes of waking me up at three in the morning (by walking over my hair) so that she could have breakfast.  I knew it couldn't continue and took her to the vet who said she was ready.  And so she is buried in the garden, next to Ras, a Wolfhound x German Shepherd dog, one that she shared much of her life with. 

I don't know what happened to Loquisha (Lucky for short).  I found her in the garden one night last week.  There had been no attack, she had simply died as far as I can ascertain.  It might have been a residual effect of her illness but she had seemed really well after her recovery, eating, clucking, laying eggs.  Hens can just die for no discernible reason and I only hope that she wasn't suffering in silence.  I don't think so, hens that aren't well look so sad, tails down and hunched up, and there was no sign of this in Lucky. 

Sharing a bite to eat (Lucky, foreground)

She was a delight to have known. An affable hen, she simply lived her life as she wanted, not pushy like Henrietta, nor vocal, like Mrs Cluck.  She foraged in the borders, occasionally came into the house but only if Henrietta led the way, and was seemingly happy in her existence.

Putting the world to rights (Lucky, centre)

While I miss animals that have shared their life with me, I don't grieve for them if they have had a good life, one lived as it should have been.
And I believe both Brandy and Lucky had a such a life. There was good food, a warm bed, lots of love and the most important thing, freedom.