Life in Tasmania's Huon Valley, by a blow-in from the mainland
Monday, January 17, 2011
A casualty to our move
Six weeks ago my dear, soft, slightly senile 15 year old cat Patsy ran away into the bush next to our house and has not returned. As she was old, timid and fragile, and the weather in the weeks following was cold and often wet, and the Tasmanian bush hostile and full of other creatures like possums and snakes, I don't hold out much hope for her survival. For four weeks, I called for her every day, and shed a little tear when she did not return. When it was windy, cold and wet at I night I couldn't sleep, knowing my poor little cat was out there, frightened and hungry. But now, six weeks after her disappearance, I think I have to accept that she's gone.
A couple of times when she was younger and we lived in Sydney, she disappeared for two weeks only to turn up unexpectedly, a little thinner but otherwise fine. Miracles always happen, I guess, but I doubt she's still out there now. Please don't ask me to talk about it as I can't do any more crying. Goodbye, my little Patsy.
Escaped Sydney in 2010 for a piece of paradise in Tasmania's Huon Valley. I'm a keen walker, remote worker, incompetent gardener, Bernese Mountain Dog owner, fan of almost anything German (food, language, cars, beer), amateur linguist, chook fancier, childfree.