It was a tight hug; not so tight that she should struggle to breathe, but tight enough for her to feel loved. It was an undying love, powerful and, most importantly, deadly. With warm fur against his chest, Tom stroked the cat, curled up around him.

He wondered if she knew what was about to happen. Was she prepared? Was she terrified? Perhaps she had curled up on him as one final, desperate attempt to cling onto something. Anything. Or was she letting him know that everything was going to be fine and that her pawprint would linger forever in his heart?

Tom could hear her heart, beating peacefully with the slow pace of a wave, brushing against the shore, getting further and further away. Her familiar paws were placed lightly on his stomach; he couldn't recall a time when the two had ever hugged so closely. In fact, Tom could hardly recall a time that they had ever hugged.

He wished he'd held her more.

Her heartbeat slowly began to fade like a footprint on the beach; the tide drawing in quickly. Tom crossed his fingers and pulled her closer, hoping she could feel his love. They say cats go to a place they feel safe when they're dying; it was a comfort that it should be true.

Between Tom's heavy breaths, tears trickling down his cheek, there was a moment of silence. A moment of complete and utter peace. No more purring. There would be no more cries. Scratch marks upon the sofa had already begun to heal and just like that, she was dead, as she would be forever more.

Tom, for one final time, kissed her furry head.

"Goodnight, girl." he mumbled. "Sleep well. I'll miss you."




© Kieran James Bunn