I've just fed my five cats and come up to bed. Then I realised I'd left the chicken in the microwave and went downstairs to put it in the fridge. I pulled off a sliver of chicken for each of the cats and laid a piece beside Bertie, my lovely boy, who had already gone to sleep. He didn't move. Unbelievably, in the space of fifteen minutes, he had eaten his supper, laid down on his bed, and died. He hasn't been poorly and was wolfing his food down as I said goodnight to him. He must have had a stroke or a heart attack. Had I not gone down he'd have been there all night with the other poor cats beside him. He is now on a blanket in the sitting room. I'm so shocked I know this message is rambling but I don't know what else to say.



